Medium

There was a time growing up that I became interested in spiritualism. This was an interest my Mother was willing to share and we ended up taking a couple of trips to a spiritualist church in Hull. My Dad stayed home muttering something about ‘encouraging activity’, but was always interested in what had happened. He was, I believe, right. It both encouraged the activity in our house as well as made me more open to it.

Attending a spiritualist church as a teenage boy was interesting. The first thing I noticed was that the vast majority of my fellow visitors where female and well over the age of 50. However, the mediums were often younger people I noticed. One evening, it was quite full as the medium was highly thought of and he attracted a more diverse audience. He was about 2 to 3 readings in when his eyes met mine.

“Young man,” he said.

I gulped and likely flushed, as all eyes suddenly stared at me.

“I have a man here who would like to warn you about that motor bike that you have. He is showing me that you will have an accident, so be careful. He is young this man, and he is wearing motorcycle gear. He passed some time ago though,” said the medium.

To be honest, I could barely speak. I just nodded and the medium duly moved on to his next ‘victim’.

Of course, I was consumed with thoughts for the rest of the meeting. The young man could have been my Dad’s brother who had died long before I was born in a motorcycle accident we thought and yes, I had just bought a Honda C70 motorbike.

At the end of the meeting, the medium and the organizer approached me and my Mother. The organizer knew us and lived not far away from us. It transpired that the medium wanted to spend some time with me. He had some things he wanted to tell me and so could I come by the next day around 2pm for some tea?

We went home and told my Dad what had occurred and he was understandably a little upset, but he agreed I should go for the tea.

The next day was very disappointing really. I had this idea that somehow, the medium would tell me something really important and deep. In fact, we sat in the back yard drinking tea and eating cakes, and just chit chatted for about an hour. After that, the organizer suggested I should leave so as not to tire the medium who would be giving another session later that day. As I was about to leave however, the medium looked at me and said,

“Do you write at all Gary?”

“Not much why?”

“Well, I just wanted to say that you will, one day, write a lot.”

“OK, thank you,” I replied.

“One more thing Gary,”

“Yes,”

“Be open.”

“I’m sorry?” I asked puzzled.

“Be open to spirit. They will write through you. Don’t be afraid. It will feel quite natural. It may not happen for many years yet, but it will and I think that you might just sit from time to time with a pen in hand and paper and see if it happens.”

“Thank you,” I said again, feeling a bitter sense of disappointment. Was that all?

Apparently, the medium put on a poor show that evening. He was tired from meeting me he claimed. I never understood why that should be so, nor why he wanted to meet me and then told me nothing very much at all.

About 6-months later, I had visited the University of Hull. They had an open day for prospective students and I was 17. Driving back, as I accelerated, I saw a blur suddenly jump out in front of me. I braked as hard as I could, but hit whatever it was. I heard the yelp of agony as I did so and was then sliding along the street at about 30mph, until the handlebar hit a pothole and threw me away, gashing a hole in my knee as I went. The bike was messed up, I was OK, but bruised and the dog was dead. I felt bad. I felt guilty for killing the dog. I felt lucky that the light had turned red behind me and so I wasn’t run over by a car.

I recalled the medium and understood it was a sign.

Now I do write and the spirits do come.

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