The Ghost Whisperer: A Real-Life Psychic’s Stories

Copyright

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Published by Element 2003

© Katie Coutts 2003

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Katie Coutts asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780007332113

Ebook Edition © February 2016 ISBN: 9780008191498

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Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction: My Story

1 By Appointment: Ghostly Experiences of My Clients

2 Picture the Scene: My Own Ghostly Encounters

3 Over to You: Ghosts Stories from My Readers

4 Famous Ghosts

Acknowledgements

About the Publisher

Death is nothing at all –

I have only slipped away into the next room.

I am I – and you are you.

Whatever we were to each other,

that we are still.

Call me by my old familiar name,

speak to me in the easy way which you always used.

Put no difference into your tone:

wear no formal air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.

Play, smile, think of me … pray for me.

Let my name be the household word that it always was.

Let it be spoken without effort, without the ghost of a shadow on it.

Let it be spoken without a tear.

Life means all that it ever meant.

It is the same as it ever was;

there is absolutely unbroken continuity.

What is death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of your mind

because I am out of your sight?

I am but waiting for you, for an interval,

somewhere just around the corner.

All is well. Nothing is past. Nothing is lost.

One brief moment and all will be as it was before –

only better, infinitely happier … and forever.

We will all be one together.

author unknown

Introduction: My Story

I was born in Glasgow in 1965, the youngest of three siblings. I believe I ‘inherited’ my psychic ability from my maternal grandmother, my beloved nana. My mum, Annemarie, is also very psychic, although her visions and premonitions come mainly from dreams. Nana was a hard-working lady, Irish by birth and very down-to-earth. She would often read tea leaves, and I still recall her accuracy. She wasn’t a confident woman and she would do this as a favour to family and friends, but I don’t think she ever took her ability seriously. I often wonder how she and I would interact if she were alive today. It’s a great source of regret for me that she’s not here to discuss her beliefs (although I believe Athena, my youngest daughter, is my nana reincarnated).

Although my childhood was happy and secure, I hated school from day one till the day I left. After leaving school I worked briefly as a telephonist, but soon gave birth to my first daughter, Natalie. She was my pride and joy.

When Natalie was four, I met my St Andrews-born husband, and Natalie and I left Glasgow for a new life in Fife. A mere hundred miles away, this place was worlds apart. We settled very quickly and I loved the picturesque village with its stunning views over the River Tay. Within a couple of years, one of my two brothers and my mum had followed me here to Fife, and together we’ve grown to love the area.

During the early years of my marriage, I did many varied jobs, ranging from sales to running my own business. The common denominator was that I was my own boss in every single job. Although I always knew what I really wanted to do, I was loath to follow my dream for some mysterious reason.

I have always been ambitious – a typical Leo trait – but during the early years of motherhood, my main aim was to be a good mother to my beautiful daughter. My happiness was made complete in 1997 when, right out of the blue and much to my shock and delight, I discovered I was expecting my second daughter, the gorgeous and hugely independent Athena. The girls were born exactly 15-and-a-half years apart, both on Thursdays and both at six o’clock.

And, if I had nothing else in my life (except mum of course), I would still be the happiest, proudest person in the world. I have the most beautiful daughters in the universe!

How it All Began

My most famous documented quote is that at the age of six, I suddenly announced Prince Charles would never be king. I don’t personally recall saying this but I’ve been assured I did. I still believe this to be the case.

I was around seven or eight when I had my first psychic experiences. While playing upstairs, I became aware of being watched by a lady. Later I was to learn she was my great-grandmother. I regularly felt a hand on my shoulder or heard my name being whispered. But I was so young I genuinely didn’t think this was anything unusual. I was never afraid. I never knew my granny (my mum’s granny) but I seemed to connect strongly with her and always have done.

As a child I preferred to play with tarot cards than dollies. I had a few experiences with Ouija boards but can remember a couple of frightening incidents. In fact, I haven’t touched an Ouija board since the age of eight. The friends involved, to this day, remember this experience with horror. I would never encourage or endorse the use of Ouija boards to anyone.

At primary school, my friends and I would lark about, telling each other ghost stories, most of them fabricated. Again, I didn’t take any of this seriously, but over the years I’ve been told by old school friends that I used to freak them out with the things I would say. Coincidence or not, many remembered what I said about the future, their marriages, children, careers etc., and much of what I apparently said has come to fruition.

From the age of 14, I began to take my ability a little more seriously. I would read palms, do psychometry and basically just blurt out whatever came into my head.

Then, after many years of being nagged by family and friends to take my ability more seriously and do something with it, I was given a pack of tarot cards as a gift. I loved them and studied them thoroughly, engrossed in their origin and the myths behind each individual card. My passion for Greek mythology was born.

A friend asked me to visit and bring my tarot cards. When I arrived, she had at least a dozen other people waiting for readings. The rest really is history because word of mouth soon spread and my phone began ringing off the hook. That was in 1991 and it hasn’t stopped since!

So What Do I Do?

The one thing I utterly despise is being called a fortune-teller. I’m not really a believer in fortune-telling – seeing the future accurately is not always possible. However, I know there are some very gifted people out there. I’m just terribly aware, and equally saddened by, just how vulnerable the public can be. I am renowned for ‘telling it how it is’ but I would never violate anyone who asked for my help. I’m sickened by those charlatans who prey on the vulnerable, and we all know there are many out there.

I’m often told I am fairly unique in that I don’t ‘predict’, but rather advise clients on how they can kick-start their lives again. Often this advice pertains to career moves, relationships and so on, but can often be as diverse as overcoming phobias and coming to terms with being abused as a child.

A great deal of my work involves healing, which I often combine with a marvellous treatment called laser therapy. This is similar to acupuncture, minus needles.

Someone recently described me as a ‘fate-teller’, which I thought was a rather lovely, fundamental way of summing up exactly what I’m all about. I have the ability to tell my clients what fate intends for them – which path they should be on. I only wish I could do this for myself but, alas, I cannot.

We often use the phrase ‘what’s for you won’t go past you’, but I totally disagree with this. If it were true, none of us would ever be unhappy, dissatisfied or unfulfilled. And I would be out of a job! The truth is, what’s for us goes speeding by all the time, and my job involves telling my clients where they need to be in life and how to make their lives the best they can (and should) be.

In my 13 years as a professional, not one of my clients has ever been surprised by what I’ve told them, even though the majority are not doing what I advise. I think most people would agree that our lives are mapped out for us. I guess I merely point out the woods from the trees and guide my clients onto the path fate intends for them as individuals.

I advise and guide my clients – the rest is up to them. I don’t necessarily take credit for the advice I give them. The way I see it, fate, whom I describe as my boss, shows me the way forward for clients. If they fail to follow the advice then their lives will continue as before – often stagnant, mundane and very much second-best.

My job is similar to that of a doctor in that my clients pose the ‘symptoms’ and I then make a diagnosis and advise them what they must do in order to make it better. If they don’t follow that advice, their lives will not improve.

Fate only ever offers the very best for us. If we want the very best badly enough, then in my opinion it is imperative to follow whatever fate intends for us.

I adore all aspects of the paranormal, even embracing complementary medicines and therapies, but my greatest love is ghosts. I just love to see the pleasure in a bereaved client’s face when I pass on a message proving that their loved ones are with them. It doesn’t always make sense to me but the important thing is that it makes sense to them.

I disagree with most mediums who say there are several different levels or stages to death. I simply believe in heaven and earth. In fact, I believe strongly that heaven is not somewhere ‘up there’ but is in fact simply an unseen parallel of earth. I believe that is how close our dearly departed are to us.

ONE

By Appointment: Ghostly Experiences of My Clients

In this chapter, I describe many experiences I’ve had with spirits during consultations with my clients. Consultations are possibly one of the easiest means of contacting a spirit – I have the client in front of me and, as I tune in to their energies, so the spirits come over. Most of my contact with spirits comes from these consultations. Of course, it doesn’t happen every time. Believe it or not, it’s usually more difficult if the client has arranged the consultation for the sole purpose of contacting their dearly departed. I don’t know about other mediums, but I find it easier just to feel what I feel, see what I see and pass on the ghostly news. I could write 10 books with the experiences I’ve had thus far in my 13-year career. I feel very privileged and also very respectful of the spirit world. To be given an insight into life after death is truly a gift to me as opposed to a gift from me.

The Vase

Jane from Perth had a very interesting story to tell me. Her main reason for arranging the consultation with me was a far more personal one, but when she began to relate the following, I found myself utterly engrossed.

Jane and her husband moved into their first home in the spring of 1997. They had been married only a matter of weeks, and naturally the young couple were busy making their new house a home.

Utterly exhausted one evening, the pair decided to have an early night. They both lay in bed reading when, out of the blue, an enormous thud could be heard from downstairs. At this point, the exact location of the noise wasn’t clear but as they tentatively descended the stairs, they were both drawn to the lounge. This room was the only one they had so far finished decorating.

Jane remembers that, despite the room being in pitch darkness, she did not feel afraid. During a later discussion, her husband was to admit to the same feeling. This was, of course, very strange. By all accounts it sounded as if there was someone in their lounge – and the most likely candidate was a burglar. However, at no time did either one feel afraid. They tell me they simply didn’t think along those lines.

As Frank, Jane’s husband, switched on the light, Jane was devastated to see one of her most loved belongings, an ancient crystal vase, lying on the floor. After an inspection, however, they discovered the vase had escaped the incident without the merest scratch – a miracle in itself as the vase was huge and the thud they heard as it fell had been resounding. Still, counting their blessings, they replaced the undamaged vase and returned to bed.

The following evening, Frank was in his study working and Jane was ironing in their bedroom. And, once again, thud! Both ran to the lounge and were met with the exact same scene from the night before. And, once again, the vase was intact.

Again, they replaced the vase and returned to the jobs they were doing prior to this incident.

The following evening, at the same time, it happened again. Assuming vibrations of some sort were causing the vase to fall to the floor, they decided not to push their luck. The vase couldn’t possibly continue to fall and remain unscathed each time so they moved it to a safer location.

The next day was Jane’s birthday. Frank sent her a beautiful bouquet of flowers, very fitting for such a priceless and sentimental vase. Forgetting about the three falls, Jane arranged the flowers in the vase and replaced it in its new location.

Ten full nights passed without incident.

After this time, the flowers began to die and so Jane threw them out, washed the vase and again replaced it.

That evening, the vase fell to the floor – undamaged once again. At last, the young newlyweds began to think there was something amiss here.

The exact same incident happened night after night. Jane was so afraid the vase would break that she moved it around the room many times, leaving a cushion directly underneath.

A few weeks passed and Jane, as planned, bid farewell to her colleagues as she began a new career elsewhere. She was showered with gifts, cards and flowers.

Arriving home that evening, Jane put the flowers in the vase. That night, nothing happened. In fact, the next 16 nights were quiet – the vase never once fell to the ground.

The next time it happened was the very evening when Jane once again discarded the dead flowers.

Becoming increasingly suspicious, Jane would alternate between having the vase filled with flowers and having the vase completely empty. The vase, she stressed to me, was solid, a good weight, so she had ruled out the possibility that the weightlessness caused by the lack of flowers could be responsible for the vase’s continuous falling.

This is all a few years ago now, but the answer to this query was straightforward.

When Jane related the events to her parents she was told that the vase had belonged to Jane’s grandmother, who in turn had inherited it from her mother – Jane’s great-grandmother. She had never met the old lady but was told that she loved her garden, flowers and plants, and was more often than not seen out in her garden picking the huge variety of blooms she had grown over the years.

It was clear, to me anyway, that Jane and her husband were not alone in their new marital home, but they had a spirit with them – the spirit of Jane’s great-grandmother. And her way of proving she was with them was to cause the vase to fall.

Breaking Jane’s vase wasn’t her intention. She just loved to see the vase filled with flowers, as it was while she was alive. Jane now ensures the vase is never empty.

Could the moral of this story be that heaven does not have a florist’s shop?

Alec’s Exam

Years ago, I had a friend called Alec, whom I still think about with fondness. I remember an amazing story he told me – one of my first experiences of someone relating an encounter to me. We were only teenagers but Alec’s story has remained in my mind all these years.

When he was only 13 or 14, Alec lost his father. He had adored his dad, although I believe their relationship was less than affectionate. I know my friend just wanted to be loved by his dad, or at least to hear the words that his dad loved him. Alec senior wasn’t a demonstrative man – in fact, as a very young child, I was always slightly frightened of him!

A few years after his father’s death, Alec called me and we met, as we often did, for a chat. I immediately noticed there was something different about my friend. He looked happy. He had a glow I’d never really seen before, not before his father’s death and certainly not since.

Alec excitedly began to tell me what had happened. He told me his father had come to him, firstly in a dream. For days he remembered the dream but thought little of its meaning. A dream to him was a dream. However, arriving home from school one day after a particularly difficult exam, Alec flopped onto the sofa with his feet up. Suddenly he sat bolt upright – he just sensed his father was around and knew he’d get a telling off for sprawling. It had become a bit of a private joke between Alec and his siblings. When dad was out, they’d sprawl. When he was home, they would sit upright. As soon as their father left the room, they’d laugh and resume sprawl position.

Alec looked over to where his father usually sat and was dumbfounded to see his father sitting there. He described his dad as ‘looking perfectly alive’. There was no grey mist around him. He was not opaque. He was just normal, just as he had been when he was alive.

Alec senior began to talk. He told Alec how proud he was of him and that, despite feeling nervous about the day’s exam, he had in fact passed with flying colours. He even told him the exact score he would receive.

At this point I was still a little sceptical but Alec continued. He told me his father went on to say he had been with him during the exam. In fact, he had sat right next to him – the only empty seat in the classroom. That seat, his father continued, should have been filled by a fellow pupil, but the pupil had received bad news that day regarding his grandmother. Alec had wondered why his pal hadn’t turned up for the exam.

Alec’s father apologized to him for not showing how much he loved him. He assured him he had always loved him and had, so many times, wanted to say the words but just couldn’t. He knew this had affected Alec but he was hoping that, as a full adult, he might understand his dad’s shortcomings. He leaned over as if to reach out for Alec but then sat back again.

The whole incident apparently lasted only a few minutes. However, Alec was to discover afterwards that these few minutes would change his life forever. He had finally heard the words he had so desperately wanted to hear his father say. He had also learned that his dad was proud of him. Gone was the insecure Alec and in his place was a young man with confidence and an air about him everyone noticed – although very few knew the reason.

Oh, and the empty seat during the exam … Alec discovered the following day that his pal’s grandmother had died and that’s why he was absent from the exam.

The Yellow Bubble Car

Fiona was a client who saw a yellow bubble car. A phantom one, of course, or I wouldn’t be telling her story! And, as you’ll see, it wasn’t just a car that she saw but also someone very close and dear, which gives one hope of an afterlife. We just don’t know if this is the way we’d spend it!

Fiona’s beloved father died very suddenly. Her mum struggled to pick up the pieces after 40 years of marriage. One of the things Fiona’s mum was determined to do was learn to drive. She found it a huge struggle. She wasn’t young, and the average road – even for the most hardened of drivers – can be a ghastly place.

All the time Fiona’s mum was learning, she talked of one thing – the bubble car she was going to buy herself. Fiona didn’t like to tell her such things had gone out with the ark. She just smiled fondly and thought this was a wonderful thing, and she’d have to guide her mum to a Mini when the time came.

The time didn’t come, however. Fiona’s mum died, and Fiona was doubly distressed to lose both parents in so short a time. For a while, Fiona couldn’t bring herself to think or speak of anything. Bubble cars in particular. The more she thought about what her mum was hiding, about how she had pretended that all was well since the sad loss of the man who had shared her life for all those years, the more upsetting it was to be reminded of those efforts to put on a brave face. Because that was all they were.

So about six weeks after her mum’s death, Fiona was greatly surprised to be forced to brake suddenly because of the car that had just swerved into her path. A yellow bubble car, no less. Fiona was intrigued. How very strange to see it there, right in her path, when she and her mum had talked about it so often. Of course, Fiona was a little angry too. After all, she’d had to brake suddenly. And all because of the silly elderly woman driver who didn’t know how to stop in a side street. ‘Wait a moment,’ Fiona now said to herself. ‘That wasn’t just any elderly lady at the wheel.’ It was her mum!

As the car sped off, the woman even gave Fiona a cheeky wave. Fiona, her heart pounding in her ears, sped off after her. For these seconds, her mum had come back to life and she had such a wish to talk to her.

All the way along a straight stretch of road, Fiona could see her mum, always just ahead but not quite near enough to catch. Then, all of a sudden, she was near enough. Fiona knew the moment was coming. Both cars pulled up towards the corner. The yellow bubble car went roaring round. Fiona followed suit. Then there was nothing. The yellow car had gone. Fiona stopped. The road was perfectly straight – no other bends for a good mile ahead, or side roads, or anywhere a car could have pulled off. Yet the little bubble car was gone, as completely, Fiona recounted, as if it had vanished into oblivion, gone up in a puff of smoke. Fiona was aghast. That was perhaps for all of two minutes. Then she realized that this was a sign, a very special sign from her mum to show her all was well. There was no need to be distressed.