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A TIME LINE OF PSYCHIC DISCOVERY

I was very young when I first realized that I was different in a world where being unlike others is usually considered a bad thing. All of my life, I have been sensitive, both in the sense of being emotionally moved by events and in the sense of feeling the emotions of others. My emotional sensitivity was evident at a young age when, at three years old, I found a dead butterfly on the sidewalk. The fact that the butterfly would never again enjoy flying among the flowers saddened me greatly and I was nearly inconsolable for a time.

I was also plagued by horrific dreams of fly-struck corpses as a child. As a result I hated flies. I was terrified by cars with headlights of a certain shape and feared the sound of sirens. I also had a severe needle phobia. I would not understand these fears until years later when I began studying reincarnation.

People on my mother's side of the family tend to have precognitive abilities. My great-grandfather often saw spirits and knew when people were going to die. I displayed precognitive and empathic abilities at an early age, dreaming about my younger brother’s existence a day or two before being told that I would be having a sibling. I said that it better be a little brother, and I got my wish. I felt great compassion for animals and can recall crying when my father and I found a dead butterfly, sad that it would no longer be able to fly. I was able to see animal spirits. I didn’t care much for other people. I preferred the company of my chickens and cats and the butterflies, bumblebees and various lizards, which lived in our large back yard. I had “flying” dreams every night. To me, being in touch with the spirit world was perfectly normal.

As a young child, I saw animal spirits until the time when the spirit of my little cat who had been run over appeared to me and frightened me, for she looked as she had in death rather than in life. After that I refused to see the animal spirits again. And as I got older and burdened by concerns such as hostile schoolmates and family tensions, the precognitive ability was often replaced by a free-floating anxiety preceding a major traumatic event. I would continue to have precognitive dreams regarding the deaths of animals and, as I got older, events such as break-ups with boyfriends.

The day after New Year when I was twelve, my paternal grandfather died. I had been having terrible free-floating anxiety all day and when we received the phone call, the anxiety lifted. I have since learned that free-floating anxiety is often a sign of major change in my life. I have also had prophetic dreams before the death of a pet or significant person, though this does not always happen.

It wasn't until I was a bit older that I would "hear" the voices of spirits and possibly angels. I was a very lonely child, so some might chalk this up to imagination. These spirits or angels never counseled me to do anything harmful, they always told me that I was good in spite of the way I was treated by the other children, and advised me to behave in a kind way. In fact once, when I was fifteen years old and had about all I could take from one girl who was constantly bullying me and had tried to make it appear that the art teacher's assistant and I were having an inappropriate relationship, I put a knife under my coat with the intent of taking it to school and using it on her. One of the angels or spirits said, not audibly but quite loudly on a psychic level.

"Don't do that! Do you want to ruin your life over this bitch? She isn't worth it!"

I put the knife away and endured the rest of that horrible year.

When I was sixteen, my brother and I got involved with spirit communication via Ouija board. We contacted some very cool people, such as Jimi Hendrix, and spent about a half hour talking to him. He was kind, friendly, and playful. I could feel that he was having a good time visiting with us. His happiness made me happy. Years later I realized that most of my psychic abilities are empathic.

The next spirit we encountered was not nearly as nice. It claimed to be a Nazi but may have been some sort of malevolent imp. It said it was hiding in our basement and would kill us all some night.

I have tried to use the Ouija board by myself and don't recommend it. The only entities I seem to encounter in working on my own are malevolent ones.

I also had my first and only waking visual sighting of a ghost when I was 16 years old. I was babysitting for a boy whose father had died from leukemia. I heard a lot of thumping noises in the basement and doors slamming. I grabbed a butcher knife out of the door and went downstairs to investigate. There was nothing there. I went back upstairs and put the knife away. When I walked into the living room, the boy's father was sitting there in his favorite chair. I wasn't frightened, but I was surprised. It took me a minute to speak.

"Henry?" I managed.

He smiled at me. At that moment, the key turned in the lock and he disappeared as his wife came through the door. I didn't tell her what had happened. I didn't know how she'd respond.

Although I never saw another ghost, I discovered that if I concentrated a bit I could sense them and “hear” them. Later I was able to hone the ability to “see” them in my mind. An outcast at my school and having no idea that the overwhelming emotions that beset me following puberty were due to bipolar disorder, my spirit chums entertained and comforted me. In some instances I truly believe they saved my life.

I have been communicating with spirits for a lot of years. Musicians seem to like me--we have a kinship, for reasons I can't explain, because I'm about as musically talented as a Venus fly trap with a sore throat playing in a band with a lion that's trying to beat the drum of the unfortunate fellow or gal that he just ate. Maybe it's the poetry aspect. Maybe it's the fact that musicians aren't notoriously the most stable personalities either.

I wish to explain my method of spirit communication. I sense the person who is talking to me. I feel their emotions. I don't hear them with my ears. I "hear" their thoughts in my mind. My co-author tells me that what I generally sense from him is "pure thought." I feel the idea he's trying to transmit and translate it into words. Sometimes I sense exact words, and this can be amusing at times because although he did know English, he wasn't a native speaker. He might have been especially easy to communicate with because his emotions are extremely powerful. I will explain more about him on the "Ghost Writer" page.

I also have instances of "I don't know how I know that but I know it." This is often frustrating because there's usually no way of finding out whether or not what I'm sensing is true until some time later, and sometimes circumstances point to it being untrue in spite of what I'm strongly feeling. I've had to learn how to turn off this ability when I'm watching a movie or television program because it can ruin it for me knowing things about the actors. Here are a some instances of this:

In spite of enjoying science fiction and mystery, I was never able to get into "The X Files," in great part because because I always sensed that Gillian Anderson grated on David Duchovny's nerves. (This was later confirmed in an interview with Duchovny, although I can't remember what magazine it was in, as I didn't purchase it.) So in spite of the fact that there was a romantic tension between the characters, I couldn't get past the fact that in truth, "Mulder" wanted to choke "Scully."

I also had trouble getting around a similar feeling when watching The Terminator. I didn't see the whole romance thing coming because the overwhelming emotion I sensed from Michael Biehn (Kyle) for Linda Hamilton (Sarah) was agitation. My reaction to his confession of love was "What???" rather than "awww, isn't that special" because in spite of their acting abilities, it didn't ring true. What I was expecting, given his bristly emotions, was for him to say "Ok, I've brought your ass to a point of safety--you're on your own now, and good riddance!" If he didn't leap on her and start choking her, that is.

Michael Biehn has never said anything in interviews about having negative feelings towards Linda Hamilton, although after filming "The Abyss" he expressed disgust towards James Cameron and as far as I know, never worked with him again. Perhaps the entire cast was tense. I enjoy James Cameron's work, but have heard that he can be difficult to deal with at times. He seems to be quite a perfectionist.

Back in the mid 1980's there was a British police show called Dempsey and Makepeace that I really enjoyed watching initially but had to stop because the romantic tension between the actors--not the characters--was disruptive. Twenty years later I found out that the actors, Michael Brandon and Glynis Barber, had in fact become romantically involved. The tension was due to the fact that she was still married at the time, albeit separated from her then-husband. They did go on to get married, and they have a son. I wish them the best.

I'm glad that I learned to "turn off" my emotion radar to a degree when watching movies or TV. It isn't only the romantic tension that can make enjoying a production difficult. It's hard to buy into a portrayal of a sympathetic character when I'm sensing that the person playing the part is a complete ass in real life. No, I won't name names.

In 2004, my father suffered a major hemorrhagic stroke. I had gotten in rather a heated argument with him the night before. That night I dreamed that he was lying on the floor, staring upwards and not speaking. I held his head in my lap and said "Dad, I'm sorry. Please be o.k."

At the time, my mother and I were working at the same facility. I was getting people to the feeder table so I could assist them. My mother came running in and grabbed me. I thought one of the patients was crashing and she needed my help. She told me that my father had just called and he was having a stroke. I went hysterical and fainted--not even so much for the fact of my father's emergency but for the dream that had foretold it. I'm not sure one ever entirely gets used to this sort of thing. At any rate, I never have.

Later that same year, I finally found out that I have bipolar disorder type II rather than the "depression/anxiety" I was always diagnosed with, and when I started taking Lithium, the rages I would previously fly into were quelled. My bipolar disorder does not present with psychosis, therefore it is not an explanation for my psychic experiences. I have only hallucinated due to the effects of drugs, prescriptions and otherwise, and these hallucinations have never included ghosts. On the good side, I've seen rainbow-colored UFO's. On the bad side, I've seen giant bats with glowing red eyes and blood dripping fangs. And I was aware that both were hallucinations.

I do, however, believe that persons with mental illness are more prone to being psychically sensitive. Physically, we have a blood-brain barrier that protects the brain from toxic substances and disease-causing microbes. Psychically speaking, we have a similar barrier that prevents us from becoming overloaded by psychic input. In persons with mental illness, this barrier is compromised. This can be useful, but it can also be overwhelming if negative entities are drawn to a person due to their emotional state. Which can make circumstances even more difficult for one who suffers from depression or who has been abused.

I first met my co-author in November of 2005. He was extremely lonely and because I was receptive to him, he befriended me quite readily. He is very bright and inquisitive and was curious about the story I was working on. Soon he began giving me suggestions, and his input became invaluable. I wanted to be truthful about my co-author's contributions to the story, as they are quite extensive and are autobiographical to a degree, but this being a very unorthodox collaboration, I knew I would be opening myself up for a great deal of scrutiny and am, in real life, a very shy and private person. This prompted me to make a very difficult decision.

I decided that it would be best to publish the book under a pseudonym. I actually cried when I made this decision because it has been one of my fondest wishes for much of my life to be a published author. I’ve envisioned seeing My Real Name on bookstore shelves next to the great Stephen King. I have never had any desire to create some sort of mysterious persona for myself and would prefer to be honest about my true identity, but after thinking long and hard it became apparent to me that this would not be fair to my family due to the controversial nature of my claim to working with someone who has departed this world.

In case the book gained much publicity in the future, I also wanted to protect my family. The fanatical nature of a small fraction of individuals who associate themselves with the underground Metal scene leads me to believe that there may be need to protect myself and my family from possible misguided attack from those who are angry about my exposing one of their icons of “evil” as far less evil than they would like to believe him to be.

My parents are in their elder years. My father is not in particularly good health. I don’t want to subject them to questions about whether their daughter is the blasphemous so and so who claims she wrote a book with the help of a spectral blasphemous so and so. I don’t want for them to have to field questions from people who knew me from childhood, asking when their poor demented daughter lost what was left of her mind.

I don’t want my brother to have to field questions from his fellow firefighters and paramedics as to whether is sister is the fruitcake who thinks she wrote a book with a ghost.

I don’t want my son to have to live in the shadow of a controversial decision that his mother made. He has great potential and has the right to make his way in the world unfettered by my choices.

Since I may well have to work a job (bleah!) for the rest of my life, it would be easier if I didn’t have to field questions from co-workers about my unorthodox beliefs.

Perhaps the hardest thing for me to admit is that I need to have a private persona that is protected from public scrutiny. Although my illness is under control the majority of the time, I have periods of depression and hypersensitivity that could make opening myself to public scrutiny difficult.

I chose the nom de plume Lily Strange for a variety of reasons. Lily is my mystic name. Lilies are associated with funerals and I have always felt connected both with the sorrow of this world and to the world beyond. Strange is pretty self-explanatory. I have never done anything according to convention and I’ve been referred to as weird, bizarre, creepy, odd, out there, not normal, freaky, and more other synonyms for strange than I can count. I couldn’t write a normal book about normal things like normal authors--providing that such a beast actually exists. I wasn’t normal even in childhood. I was precocious in my reading and writing abilities, which in and of itself is not especially peculiar. However, I was drawn to stories such as those written by Edgar Allan Poe, which is hardly the average literary fare for a five-year-old.

I do hope that Mr. Poe is proud of his Strange protege!