Before I start this I need to refer you back to the post I published last December entitled ‘Cold Turkey’. the good news is that I came off Sertroline and my doctor prescribed Citalopram, a drug that has destroyed my life. But more details on the frightening effect that drug has had on me I will post later.
My mind has been well and truly fucked with to the extent that I seem to have developed the ability to talk to dead people. No laughter please as I am completely serious – and, yes, I would have scoffed at this point too. That’s why I’m writing this – to open up what I have seen to the wider internet and see if it connects with anyone out there.
Because of the specialists I’ve been seeing, I’ve been told to keep a dairy so I have notes of whatever happens to me to refer to. The first incident happened on 26th June while I was in bed. This usually happens during a form of fit / jerking of my body. On this occasion it was bad enough to wake me up. I am absolutely certain this is not a dream.
This what I wrote immediately afterwards :
“Initial image of a tree. Not far off but then I zoom in towards it like on TV. I’m close up to the tree. The tree has the initial ‘D’ carved on it. Then the image fades and I have a major fit. All limbs going everywhere. Someone is trying to get my attention. The presence is of a small child. Undefined but definitely a small boy. I think he’s D? I think he’s buried under the tree. I have no idea where the tree is. I get the number / year? 1944 but not sure what that means. Image appears of a girl. Bullying him. D is pushed and falls hitting his head against a brick wall. Skull fractured. Died. None of this makes sense but sure he’s the body under the tree. Wants me to know. Find grave. He’s very very insistent. If I try to dismiss this I am jolted physically.
In my head I get a picture of a wooded area or copse maybe. I was drawn back towards the specific tree which has the initial ‘D’ carved on it. I looked down at the ground and the earth peeled away to reveal the skeleton of a young child in the foetal position. At this point I again had the impression of the number 1944 but have do idea of the relevance of that.
He shows me the grave stripped of earth, and I see the bones. He forces my body into the same (foetal) position. I feel a pressure (hand?) on my head. He’s showing me the fracture (left side of the head). Sod this. I’m getting up”
The second visitation is quite different as it happens at 1:30pm just after I have finished my lunch so this definitely isn’t a dream. It’s the 13th July. Again this is written immediately afterward :
“The kid buried in the woods is back. He’s VERY angry but I tell him I can’t help. He forces my body into a foetal position. That’s how he is in the grave.
I keep telling him I can’t help him. Calm down. He says ‘sorry’ and I can sit up again. I close my eyes and sit quietly at the table. He sends me a picture. For someone who is unable to visualise, this is remarkably clear.
There’s a country road. A black car pulls up on the right hand side next to a hedge. Two people get out. The woman is wearing a long grey/or brown coat and a brimmed black hat. The man is wearing a dark raincoat over a blue suit. I can’t make out the faces clearly. They open the boot of the car and take out a bundle wrapped in a sack like cloth. The voice talking to me now is his own and sounds like a 3 or 4 year old. (usually talks in my voice). It’s clear to me there is a body in the sack. The man picks up a shovel from the boot and shuts it. The woman is holding the bundle like a child over her left shoulder. Together they walk towards the woods and vision fades.
Again I have the impression of the number 1944. Also have the names George and Mortimer. Not sure of the relevance. This is a troubled soul who just wants someone to find where he is buried. I understand this and that this a lost and frightened child but I can’t help him as I have no point of reference and he can’t give me a location. He keeps repeating the word ‘DARK’
Another impression of the car. Zooming in from above. Number plate is square. Silver on black. Something like a Wolsey or MG. Not cheap which fits with the peoples clothes. Suggests to me 1950s or early 60s? Car and clothes that sort of period. Zooming in on the plate. WRJ or WJR and the number 117. Definitely 117. It’s a square plate. There’s chrome bits – quite posh – either side of the light. Mark 2 Jaguar maybe. Not sure. Maybe analysing too much.”
So that’s it. I feel compelled to put this out there if only to get the kid off my back. Of course I might be imagining all this but other things have happened that make me dismiss this. I will tell all later.
Laugh at me, mock me, call me names. I don’t care.
Is there someone out there that relates to this?
Is there an open police murder case that fits with this?
Would a medium be able to rationalise this with me?
Please get in touch if you can help.