Читать книгу We Are Never Alone - Anthony Quinata - Страница 8

Preface

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I don’t normally work at psychic fairs, but I was at Cornerstone Books for the store’s Halloween metaphysical fair. The store had changed hands by that time. Deb Guinther, whom I talked about in my book Communications from the Other Side, wasn’t the owner any longer. It was now owned by Jenny Vega and her husband, Angel.

There was a lull in the number of people wanting readings so the other readers and I were sitting around talking. “I wish Rick was here,” Cathy, one of the card readers, said.

“Why?” Samantha, another reader asked her.

“I was hoping he would read my palm for me,” Cathy replied.

“I can read your palm,” Jenny said, which surprised us all.

“Can you really?” Cathy asked. Jenny nodded so Cathy held up her right hand and asked, “Will I live a long life?”

Jenny looked at her palm and nodded, “Oh yes, you’ll live a long life.”

Samantha, who was sitting next to me, held up her hand and asked “What about me? Will I live a long life?”

Jenny gazed at her hand before she said, smiling, “Oh yes, you’ll live a very long, healthy life.”

It was the word “healthy” that prompted me to hold up my hand. “What about me, Jenny? I just had a physical, and when I left, the doctor gave me a calendar, but it goes only to May of next year. What’s he trying to tell me?”

Everyone laughed as Jenny looked closely at my hand. “Angel, come here and look at his hand!”

Angel walked over, looked at my hand, and his eyes grew large. “Man, you died, crossed over, and came back. Did you know that?” he asked excitedly.

“I’ve always had a feeling,” I told him. When I was five years old, I had to have surgery. I have no idea now what it was for, but I do remember not liking the mask on my face as the doctor was telling me a story. I tried to push the mask away because I was feeling sleepy.

Several years later my mother told the story of how the surgeon walked up to her and asked if she believed in God. “Yes, I do,” she told him.

“Then I suggest that you go to the chapel and pray,” he said as gently as he could. “I don’t know if your son is going to make it or not.”

My mother never did say, and I can’t be sure, but I believe it had something to do with an asthma attack. I was asthmatic from the time I was about three months old.

My mother went to the chapel and prayed like she had never prayed before, and kept praying until the surgeon found her there. She was relieved to see that he was smiling this time. He told her I would pull through after all.

At that time we lived in Wilmington, California in a housing project that’s no longer there. When you walked through the front door, the kitchen was to the left, and the living room was on the right with a stairway in the middle leading to the second floor. I can still remember sitting on those stairs giving a lot of thought to my birthday coming up the next day. It was not only going to be my sixth birthday, but my brother Eddie’s first birthday, as well, since we both shared the same birth day.

I came to a decision, sitting there on those stairs. I had an announcement to make, and I knew it wasn’t going to go over well. “Mom, go ahead and celebrate Eddie’s birthday tomorrow, but you don’t have to celebrate mine anymore,” I announced to her after much thought.

“Don’t be silly,” she told me. “You’re going to have a birthday party too.” She sounded agitated. I knew that my mother wouldn’t agree to what I was suggesting, but I really didn’t care about celebrating my birthday. I will admit being grateful the next day that we did though.

I found out years later that loss of interest in birthdays is common with people who have been through what is referred to as a “near-death experience.” Angel seemed to confirm for me what I had believed for years.

“You crossed over and came back with knowledge you’re meant to share with the rest of us,” Angel continued, looking closely at my palm.

I wondered what he meant by “us.” I couldn’t help but smile when I thought this.

Angel must have known what I was thinking because he looked at me seriously and said, “With the world, man. You’re supposed to share what you know with the world.”

Seven months later in May, I was sitting in front of Rick with my hand outstretched, palm up. My book was scheduled to be released later that year, and I was hoping to get an idea as to how it would go. “I don’t see you doing the medium thing for long,” Lawrence told me.

“Really? What do you see me doing?” I asked him.

“Teaching . . . I see you teaching.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to be teaching?” I asked. I had planned to do the “medium thing” for at least five years after my book came out.

“I don’t know,” he said. I can only tell you what I’m seeing here in your ‘Mound of Mercury.’” After he said that, I could tell by the look on his face that the reading was over.

I got up and walked away, thinking about what Angel had said to me seven months before. “You crossed over and came back with knowledge you’re meant to share with the rest of us—not just us, but with the world, man.”

Making the transition that Rick predicted wasn’t easy for me. Getting me to do so was an uphill battle for the souls. They got my attention the only way they could . . . by slowly causing the requests for readings with me to gradually come to a grinding halt.

We Are Never Alone

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