I See Dead People...

I was driving towards the local upscale mall, when I passed a cemetery that I had driven passed many times before; but since I'd professed to be a medium,  my thought atmosphere changed ever so subtly, whenever I encountered some reminder of transition.

As I drove by, looking to my right, peering into the open cemetery, I noticed a group of 20 young adults, all of them about the age of those characters from the TV show Friends, all of them huddled around a grave with heads bowed down. I could feel the sadness, and my heart went out to them. 
 
Suddenly the spirit energy of the deceased young man, was sitting in my back seat, tapping me on my proverbial shoulder explaining, "You know how I died."  
 
Yes, there he was, sitting in my back seat, wearing a black leather jacket with a helmet tucked under his arm. I noticed his helmet looked showroom new and barely worn, which made me say to him, "I guess it's obvious you weren't wearing that shiny helmet, you have tucked under your armpit." 
 
He responded, "Yeah, you are psychic, aren't you?" 
 
Then I said, "Well, come on...isn't it obvious? All your friends huddled there with all those motorcycles parked in proximity, and you in my back seat with a helmet tucked under your arm?" 
 
"You're a good translator," he said rubbing his proverbial chin, never telling me his name. He just kept on nodding and smiling with smug accomplishment as if he had chosen the right car driven by a compassionate human being with a spirit of adventure, who luckily happens to be a medium - meaning me. 
 
"Before you ask," I warned him, "Nope, I don't do that!" 
 
"But look at them," he said, "they are my friends, and it's so sad. It was all my fault. You could help them heal. All you have to do is..." 
 
"Nope!" I refused. "Funerals are sacred, and besides, I don't even know you." 
 
"What does that matter?" 
 
"You and I are strangers. Hello?"  I chuckled. 
 
"Besides," he whispered sounding like a seashell against my ear, sending me a flood of thoughts through the center of my forehead just above the bridge of my nose. These windy, blustery thoughts had the busy activity of children in them - children, which were too young to process the finality that daddy is going into the cold ground, where he will sleep forever, never to return. 
  
"Damn it!" I said, as I pulled up at the corner gas station, to turn around, and head back to the cemetery and join the memorial in process.  
 
I parked my car off to the side, walking and mumbling to myself flanked by the deceased guy, coaxing and coaching me, telling me by whom in the crowd I should stand, instructing me to say, "I'm Bryan and I've come to help you remember." 
 
"Go stand by whom?" I asked him.  
 
"By her," he said pointing up ahead, reaching his arm over my right shoulder to show the way, " by that gal," he directed, "the responsible looking one." 
 
"OOOOKAAAAY!" I said only loud enough for him to hear, as if to suggest that he (the deceased guy) was very particular, which was actually okay, because I wasn't going amongst a group of strangers to speak for someone who was too vague.  
 
I was still about twenty paces away from the group, when I finally thought to ask, "What do you want me to say?" 
 
"You're a good translator," he repeated, "You'll know..."  
 
I kept walking forward, breathing deeply, when I suddenly felt alone, like he was not next to me anymore or even around, for that matter, but present in my mind, attached to my middle brain. However, I kept walking, trying to adjust my energy to the deceased guy in order to manifest a functional, communicative, mental rapport.  
 
I was finally standing next to ‘the responsible looking female,' when I whispered my name in her ear, asking if I could be next to say a few words, while instinctively listening in, trying to catch his name from anyone in the group who would mention it....Why? Because he never told me his name. 
 
"Hey, everyone," the responsible female said, "this is Bryan and he has a few words to share." She turned and looked at me, "Go ahead, Bryan," she placed her hand at the small of my back using her other arm as a gesture of warm welcome and introduction. 
 
"Yes, my name is Bryan, and actually I am a medium, and I just met this gentleman today." I took a deep breath and then tuned-in to him as I continued. 
 
"You know, there was a time when we enjoyed the thrill of the wind in our face and hair moving at speeds that felt like flight! But then," I/he paused, "we thought we could make riding more fun, by mixing the experience with recreational activity, while bar hopping the whole time. Of course, we should wear our helmets," He/I said, "but that is easy to rationalize, except when we're not sober, because good judgement is the first to go out the window!  
 
After a while and a few more words, he (through me) compelled with a final plea, "Let's go back to the way it was, when it was fun to ride and that was all!"  
 
He (the deceased) and I were in our own ‘lucid reality,' and we had to break our mutual-exclusive connection to focus back on the whole group to acknowledge and gauge their expressive response. They were solemn.  
 
I continued, "He has children and loves holidays, so each of you will see to it that ‘my' kids get Easter and Christmas," he/I pointed to individuals in the group, singling each out to assign a holiday to celebrate with his kids. 
 
A young man standing near the center and front of the group asked, "Can I finally start dating his two X-girlfriends," he gushed, putting an arm around a girl on his left and the other female standing on the right. 
 
I being the grounded medium, took the question very seriously, and responded, "I'll ask," when laughter broke throughout the crowd, meaning the young man was trying to intentionally assert some humor back into our group interaction, in order to offset the alarmingly accurate but sad truth, I had spoken - a truth grounded with individual remorse from the painful, collective acknowledgement that we are responsible for one another.
 
After the laughter died down, I said, "That's all he wanted (me) to say, and I'm leaving now," as I turned and departed walking back to my car, carefully pacing my stride, wanting to run, afraid to hear ridicule that I had desecrated their only moment to remember. 
 
 But instead, much to my surprise and great relief, there were nothing but thoughtful, "Thank You's!" spoken individually in the distance, and then spoken in unison like the chorus of a Greek Tragedy.  
 
When I turned the key in my ignition to leave the cemetery, I heard a warm breathy, passionate, "Thank You!"  
 
I put my car in drive and said, "You're so very welcome; and I thank you," I admitted, " for trusting me to speak for you." 

THE END


Here is some additional information I added later on, because of some fun responses I got from Gaia members:

There are energies in different registers that present in different ways, bearing different messages and various agendas; and each of these aspects has something to do with their vibration:  

In other words, there are ghosts that are
1. desperate

2. sad,

3. sad but aware

4. wanting to communicate before going into the light

5. already in the light but wanting to communicate

6. not aware they are dead, but wanting to be acknowledged as alive

7. aware they are deceased but want to help someone solve a crime of which they were a non-surviving victim,

8. wanting to communicate something to save or protect someone living,     ... and the list goes on, and although the above affect their presentation and our perception of how they come across to get our attention, there are other aspects that play an important role as well, like...
 
9. some spirits don't have energy of their own to present the way they prefer, but still they try, and then you only see pieces of them  

10. and if they are from a different era and frame of mind and it has been so long that they communicated successfully with someone, in spite of being earthbound, stuck in their sad loneliness, the presentation can be very morbid and eery.  

A category separate from them all is  
11. ANGER....which is a packaging in presentation that takes advantage of any kind of fear the perceiver has ever had like,

12.  fear for the experiences in life that you made you mad,

13. experiences where you were trusting yet vulnerable and finally betrayed,

14. your own experiences wherein you were afraid, tempted, suspicious, and powerless.  

This means when you cross paths with them, you start feeling the fear of the last four kinds of experiences just mentioned above, so you don't know if you should run out the room or acknowledge that someone in spirit or energy here in your presence is very mad and full of contempt from something that happened long ago.  

All these factors can affect how they present to you or how you perceive them through the filters of your own mind like your superstitions, religion, and the urban legends you've adopted as universal truth.  

Therefore, when a ghost presents to me, they measure my nature, and know that getting my attention takes a different approach, unlike those who don't know a ghost or energy is around unless they get goose bumps, coupled with the feeling of great foreboding.   By the way, all that is not necessary to get my attention, but having a desire to accomplish something meaningful does.  

When the spirit is full of trite and is mischievous, they get my attention too, wisely saving their antics for another, but showing me how smart and cunning they are in getting an emotional reaction from others, then magnifying the energy through the fear capacitor, and then doing something really weird.  

Once the fear is established, the person becomes a psychic battery providing an endless supply of energy that lasts for months and months, which is why some ghosts haunt.... because they like the particular energy of fear a particular person or region provides, and they use the energy to feel as close to earth living as possible.  

I hope this added section makes the reading informative and more interesting.

Love,

Bryan