I don’t score well on psychic tests. I’m sure I have the ability to be a psychic medium, but it’s too hard for me to access. But I do seek help from psychic mediums and tarot readers on occasion. And I find it tremendously helpful. But sometimes, even a relatively non-psychic person like me gets an odd and eerie psychic experience in a direct, personal and profound way. I’m referring to an experience as one of the unwitting rescue mediums that has stuck in my mind for a long time. I’ve never really talked or written about it before. And it was a bit more of a medium experience (you know the ‘crossing over’ type) rather than a psychic ‘get a snapshot at your future’ experience. But it was something that once experienced, still gives me shivers. So here it goes. The following is my own true and personal account of the events in the Fall of 2000…
Are Mediums Real?
It was a beautiful fall day about a year before my wife and I got married. It was an unusually warm Sunday early afternoon. My soon-to-be wife and I were scouting out reception hall venues in the midst of wedding planning. The good halls are very competitive in the fall and we knew a one-year start was barely tolerable in our city. On this day, we were quite excited about this hall even before seeing it. It was a historic old flour mill that had become a reception venue, restaurant, hotel and spa tucked in an old, but residential part of the big city where I lived.
When we arrived, we fell in love with it right away. Our bridal administrator took us on a tour of the facility which just entrenched our certainty that we’d celebrate our wedding here. When she took us to the giant hall with all the ornate carvings, glittering chandeliers and massive stone fireplaces, we were speechless. And that was before anything was set up. The tables were normal banquet hall tables, except that they all had fresh tablecloths. They weren’t set up yet for any event on that day we were touring, but it was early afternoon. We could here kitchen staff beginning to prepare. Soon this room would be fully set up for that night’s wedding or event. The place was very popular and booked fast for every day of the week.
As we made our way through the giant room to get to the next part of the tour, something caught my eye. There was a pack of matches sitting on one of the empty tables – no doubt from the previous night’s Saturday wedding. For some reason I can’t explain, I felt compelled to grab the matches. Now, I don’t smoke, use candles, or have any reason to take the matches. In hindsight, it was an unusual thing for me to do as I had no reason, purpose, or intention about it. But at the time, it just seemed natural for me to grab them and stuff it in my pocket. I didn’t give it a second a thought as we continued the tour.
We ended up booking the venue at the end of the tour. We were excited and knew that there was no point looking elsewhere. We went to a restaurant for lunch in the area to celebrate this monumental step in our wedding planning. It was exciting and we were euphoric. It was such a nice day we decided to walk around after the restaurant. We were both very familiar with the area which was an older and semi-affluent neighbourhood in the city. I had gone to high school nearby so I knew all the places to go.
The area was a mix of old English and Tudor style homes on quiet streets and quaint shops and restaurants off the main through street. There are a couple of parks/playgrounds and churches nearby. Next to one church and off the main road is an old cemetery that looks out of place with all the houses and businesses surrounding it. But it’s a widely regarded “urban” cemetery in the sense that stores, homes, and structures were built around it over the years and it’s just a normal part of the neighbourhood popular with yuppies going for walks and shortcut seekers in addition to the more sombre visitors.
You don’t think of a cemetery as being a cheery place, but all the old growth trees and the street level quaintness of the area strangely suited it. It also makes a convenient short cut to a popular coffee shop in the area.
With a mission to grab some coffees on the other side of the cemetery, we walked through the cemetery roads. As we walked deeper into the cemetery, the traffic faded and all we could here were birds singing and tree leaves rustling in the occasional soft breeze. It was refreshing and contemplative. We were still so excited about booking the venue and the walk felt so nice and calm and peaceful. There were a few other people walking through the cemetery as well. The odd car was parked were someone was paying respects. The cemetery is an old one, but there are a lot of family plots so it’s still an active cemetery for existing families and estates who own plots there. I know this because my parents wanted to buy a cemetery plot in their own estate planning at this cemetery, but there was no more land left for sale there.
We were holding hands walking along the road in the deepest part of the cemetery. The sun was still shining brilliantly. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw a figure moving towards us. It was an older lady and I didn’t think much of it as there were other people nearby. But as she got closer and closer, it dawned on me that she was coming towards us specifically. My wife didn’t notice until I stopped in my tracks so the lady could catch up to us. As she got within speaking distance, she caught her breath and explained she brought candles for her late husband’s gravestone and then turned to me and asked – get this – if I had any matches?
I replied no and said I was sorry I didn’t have any and she looked disappointed but shuffled off and we continued walking. After about twenty or thirty steps, I froze. I had just remembered. I reached into my pocket and begin pulling Kleenex, my wallet, and keys out of my pocket madly searching for it. My wife didn’t realize what was going on. Finally, I found it. Matches. I pulled out the match book and stared at. It had a bride and groom outline on it and said “George & Mary” in gold letters. My wife was a bit surprised I had matches but thought nothing of it realizing I must have taken it from the hall. I quickly turned around and walked back surveying the area trying to spot the lady. My wife waited at the road. I spotted her and walked hurriedly to catch up to her. When I finally caught up, we were at her husband’s gravestone. I explained I actually did have matches and gave them to her.
Again, the full eerie coincidence was only just beginning to hit me at this point. I was just glad that I could give her the matches. She thanked me profusely and quickly moved to light the candles while stood there. I realized she was rushing because she thought I wanted the matches back. I told her to keep them and that I don’t smoke and I don’t need them. She thanked me again and I turned to leave.
Then in hit me again. I noticed something else that must have registered subconsciously since I wasn’t looking directly at it anymore. I turned and read the headstone. It was for “George” and “Mary”. The dates weren’t yet chiseled for Mary (obviously), but that would be her final resting place too – next to her husband George.
I walked back to my wife. I didn’t say anything to the lady. She hadn’t noticed the names on the match book and I was too weirded out to say anything. Actually, I remember getting strange chills and as I explained to my wife, we walked quicker to get out of the cemetery. It was creepy. As we sipped our coffees I speculated that I must have been a messenger or something. What are the odds that I would 1) Grab a match book, 2) Walk through the cemetery just at the time this lady is there, 3) The lady would stop us for matches, 4) The matches have the same first names George and Mary as the headstone. It was like I joined the legions of mediums communicating spirits unbeknown to me.
To this day, my wife and I never forgot what happened that day. True story.
I would love to get a psychic mediums opinion on death in the context of my personal experience. Coincidences are certainly possible, but this just seemed too unreal to be limited to worldly machinations.