My Psychic Casebook: The amazing secrets of the world’s most respected department-store medium. Jayne Wallace
had dragged her down to Selfridges and, after her own reading, persuaded Annie to see me. ‘But my life is happy, I’m good, so no thanks,’ she’d begun, but Lyn was adamant. And within a few minutes Annie was sitting opposite me – all gleaming blonde hair and a great big smile on her elfin face. ‘She’s decided to go along with it, then,’ I remember thinking. I connected with Annie instantly, telling her about her childhood and the husband she was now with – who had made her incredibly happy. Then, just as we were about to finish the reading, Annie had a question for me.
‘Jayne, who was that white man who used to sleep on my floor when I was about four years old?’
I replied, ‘Have you noticed that you don’t hear the sound of him breathing in his sleep any more?’
‘Yes, correct. I haven’t, really.’
‘That’s because that entity is now your daughter. He manifested into her … what’s your daughter’s name?’
Annie began to cry. ‘Her name is Angel.’
Annie says
When I was very small – just four years of age – I woke in the night in terror. I knew there was something on the floor between my bed and my sister’s bed. The house was quiet – my parents and my two brothers were sound asleep – but the sense of another presence, so close to me, was deafening. And when I saw him, I panicked. Raised as a Christian, I thought, This is the Devil! I tried to scream for my parents but I didn’t want my sister to wake up and see what I saw … and what if he moved? So I turned back to face the wall, covered my head with the blanket and just wished him away. I prayed, If I make myself go to sleep now, please, please make him disappear.
I woke early the next morning and stared at the empty floor. I was expecting to see a white blanket or white towel there, something to explain what I had seen, but it was impossible. There was only clean, brown carpet. But I knew a man was there last night, sleeping next to me … and he was all iridescent white.
I can’t say my childhood was a happy one. There was emotional and mental abuse, and I don’t remember enjoying being a child or a teenager. Yet whenever I was going through a dark and difficult time, I would hear that calming breathing sound next to me. At first I thought I was imagining it or it was just the breeze. During my teens, when things were probably at their worst, I seemed to hear him more often. It didn’t matter when or where I was – daytime, night-time, driving in my car – he always seemed to be with me when I needed some kind of comfort. I became so used to the sound of him that I’d even joke, ‘There’s my guardian angel again,’ and I began to actively like him. I felt peaceful when he was around. He soothed me with his calming breath, and that sound became my friend.
I kept my breathing angel to myself for years, and told no one – until one weekend when, on a whim, I went away to stay with a friend, Sienna. I hadn’t seen my flatmate Helen before I left and she didn’t know that I’d be away, so when I arrived back home on the Sunday evening I was looking forward to a good catch-up. When I mentioned I’d spent the weekend at Sienna’s, Helen blurted, ‘No, Annie, you were home this weekend!’
‘Helen, I wasn’t home. I stayed at Sienna’s house last night …’
‘No, you were home. I could hear you sleeping in your bed! There was this loud breathing sound coming from your bedroom! You were there – I heard you!’
At that point I went cold with goosebumps and my face froze. Helen saw my reaction and I broke down in tears.
‘I cannot believe you’ve just said that!’ I sobbed, shocked that after all these years the secret was out. ‘That’s my angel or spirit guide who sleeps next to me and makes those breathing sounds …’ and I imitated the sound for her and she confirmed, ‘That’s it!’
For Helen to have witnessed it felt like a miracle, a confirmation that my angel really existed. Now my ‘invisible friend’ was a part of me. I knew he was a good spirit. Funny, he even stayed in my bed when I went out of town. And he even flew to my bedside in hospital when I had open-heart surgery eight years later, making me feel safe as ever with his calming breath.
When, in my thirties, I finally met the man I was to marry, I felt as if the universe had sent another angel to rescue me. My life had been such a struggle, but at last I had found true, genuine love with Michael. I was finally happy, and all I had prayed for and wished for finally came true … perhaps my angel had listened to me?
Soon we were trying for a baby, and I got pregnant first time. It felt wonderful to extend our love into a family. For some reason, I knew I was having a girl, which was my dream come true.
‘Well, if we have a girl, let’s name her something positive and beautiful,’ Michael mused. The name came instantly into my mind. I said, ‘A-ha! How about Angel?’
‘That’s it! Love that name!’
Angel was born on 9 March 2011. The last time I heard my guardian angel’s breathing was during the first trimester of pregnancy. Now I can see, feel and touch this beautiful spirit that became my daughter. I love to listen to her sleep, and her breath, the very essence of her life, reminds me of him.
Thank you, my little Angel.
Jayne’s Wisdom
This very special story shows that angels are with us right through our lives. Annie’s angel protected her through her difficult childhood until she met the man she was destined to be with. After Annie and Michael were married, the angel manifested into their beautiful child, a symbol of their enduring love. Annie’s husband is her protector now. I wish them every happiness.
Chapter 2
Once of my clients, Nita, is a systems analyst. Her husband is a finance manager for a high-street bank. I’ve read for both individuals, and they are rationalists: they need proof of spirit, which I was able to give them for a close relative who had passed. But one of the other reasons Nita came to me was out of concern for her daughter Sal, seven years old, and her son Ty, nine. The family had just moved countries to a new home.
‘Mum, it’s so pretty in here,’ Sal had told Nita. ‘Look at all the colours!’
‘What colours?’ Nita had asked.
Nita said, ‘We were unpacking yet another box in a dark sitting room – we had no curtains at the window. Dusk was drawing in, and I was thinking about putting the lights on. Then Sal said, “Pink, a kind of light blue, green … like a rainbow.” Then she began skipping around the room, generally enjoying herself.
‘“It’s getting dark in here, sweetheart,” I said, gently.
‘“No, it’s not, not with the colours …”’
Nita didn’t disagree with her daughter Sal, but instead filed it away for future discussion with her husband. This wasn’t the first instance of an odd experience in the house. While the adults had noticed nothing untoward, Nita’s son, Ty, was convinced there were more people living there than on the rental agreement they’d just signed.
‘There’s a man, Mummy,’ he’d said, pointing at the long, wide hallway. Nita had looked up, but saw no one there, and nothing reflected in the newly polished parquet floor.
‘What does he look like, then?’ Nita had decided to play along.
‘He’s quite small and old, but he looks a bit like Daddy. He’s got a long white shirt on like Daddy wears when we go to the temple.’
Nita then told me that her husband confirmed the man was actually his grandfather, whom he’d never met. ‘Mikael, my husband, had a photo of him, though, so he went to fetch it. He said, “First, tell me what our son said.” So I gave him the description. Then Mikael turned over the photo. And there was a small-boned man, with short, dark hair