Читать книгу Derek Acorah: Extreme Psychic - Derek Acorah - Страница 6

I was still a teenager when I first experienced the dangerous edge of spirit energies. It was also the first time I actively used my psychic powers. At the age of 15 I had been apprenticed to Liverpool Football Club under the management of my eternal hero Bill Shankly. I was now 17 and had completed my apprenticeship. I was a full-time professional footballer playing for Liverpool Football Club ‘A’ team.

Each week we would play football matches against other clubs’ ‘A’ teams, one of which was Blackburn Rovers. The games against Blackburn were always played at the grounds of a local mental care institution commonly referred to as ‘the asylum’ in those days. Whilst the games were being played, certain of the inmates were allowed to watch from the sidelines. The people were of mixed ages, ranging from young adults to quite elderly men and women. One of the regular spectators was David, a strapping young man aged around 21 or 22 years. It did not matter what the weather was like, David would always be there to cheer the Liverpool side on.

I recall one occasion when we were about 15 minutes into the game and the ball went out of play. I took the throw-in, sending the ball in the direction of Peter Price, a former Welsh schoolboy international who was now also a full-time pro with Liverpool. Peter clipped the ball to Ray Witham, our full-back, who in turn hammered it way upfield to our winger, Stephen Peplow. He in turn drove the ball towards the goal-mouth. Up went Ted McDougall to score the first of six goals for our team on that day.

As each goal was scored the audience went into a frenzy of laughter and applause. The atmosphere was alight with excitement and there were a few minor scuffles between the opposing fans. Once such scene involved David. A ball once more went out of play just at the point where David was standing. As he darted forward to retrieve it, one of the female inmates also swooped down to pick it up. Mayhem followed as the two of them fought and pushed one another in an effort to take possession of the ball. It became so bad that they had to be separated and calmed down.

At the end of the game the players would be taken to a part of the building where there were over a dozen baths in a line in the longest bathroom you could ever imagine. David knew the routine and would hang around waiting to speak to the players, even though he should have joined the other inmates as they were taken back to their quarters. Nevertheless, he would wait to chat to us as we came out after our bath and would walk with us towards the coach waiting to take us back home.

I felt very sorry for David. He seemed to be an intelligent lad and although he was a few years older than me, I felt a certain empathy with him and used to make a point of having a chat about what had happened in the game and about Liverpool Football Club’s premier team’s progress in general.

On this particular day I had completed my bath quite quickly and was making my way down the corridor to the room where we were given tea and sandwiches when I heard a voice call my name. It was David.

‘Hi, Derek, mate,’ he said. ‘Can I share your sandwiches with you? I’m starving. They don’t feed me enough here. I’m a growing lad and I need my vitamins.’

We both laughed at this comment, because it was obvious from David’s size and stature that he was far from underfed. He accompanied me to the tearoom door and I went in, got myself a plate of sandwiches and a cup of tea and brought them out to him. I have never seen food disappear so quickly in all my life!

When the sandwiches were finished David told me in a confidential manner that he really should not be in that part of the building but should in fact be in the adjoining part where he had his own room. He told me that he had been a resident at the institution for nearly three years.

I asked him why he was there, because apart from appearing to be a little slow, he seemed perfectly normal to me. He informed me that the doctors had told his family that he was mad because he could see and hear people that no one else could. He said he hated the fact that the doctors gave him medicine in an effort to stop him from seeing what they referred to as ‘imaginary people’. In order to stay on the right side of the medical staff he even told them that he no longer saw or heard those people. Then he laughed and winked at me and said, ‘But I still do!’

As David related this tale to me I felt myself grow cold. The experiences he was describing were exactly the type of thing that I myself experienced and, according to my grandmother, would in later years play a huge part in my life.

From the age of six I had seen and heard people in the world of spirit. Although at that time it did not play a major part in my life, this ability was always with me. I thanked my lucky stars that my grandmother, a medium herself, had recognized what was happening to me. If I had been born into a different family I could quite easily have ended up in a situation similar to the one that David had found himself in and would not have been able to fulfil my dream of playing football professionally for Liverpool Football Club.

My heart went out to David. Just being in his company and close to his aura told me that a grave error had been made – something that was more commonplace in those days. The young man was neither mentally deranged nor schizophrenic. Quite simply David had the gift of spirit communication.

David continued speaking. ‘Since I’ve been here I’ve seen and spoken to lots of people who used to live here but have now died. Sometimes at night before I go to sleep they come and again in the morning when I wake up. It’s real, Derek, honest it is!’

I asked David whether he knew of anybody in his family who had had similar experiences. He told me that his father’s grandmother had been taken away because she was crazy and had been locked up somewhere, never to be seen again by their family. I doubted very much that the poor old lady had been ‘crazy’. It was obvious to me that she had passed her gifts down through the family to her great-grandson.

‘Do you have to go straightaway, Derek?’ David asked me. ‘I’d like to show you my room. I can sneak you in there without being seen.’

I hesitated momentarily then said, ‘OK, come on then! Let’s go!’

David led me down various corridors until we came to what appeared to be a communal sitting room. Through another door we went and then into another short corridor with a number of doors. David stopped outside one of the doors and opened it. ‘This is my room,’ he told me proudly.

It was a very plain room with a single bed and a bedside locker. There was a small wardrobe and a couple of shelves. A number of Liverpool Football Club posters adorned the walls. I could only imagine David’s loneliness in spending much of his life in this solitary room.

As I approached the window to look out of it I heard a loud bang. I looked down to the floor and saw a box that had moments earlier been sitting on one of the shelves.

‘Did you see that, Derek?’ David asked me excitedly. ‘Did you see the box move? That was Jim! You can’t see him, but he’s standing right there.’ He pointed to a spot just next to the shelves. ‘That was naughty, Jim,’ he said. ‘That was bad!’

I looked towards the place at which David was pointing. I felt a sharp pain in my back and then noticed a man in spirit, small in stature and aged I would say in his early fifties.

‘Can you see him, Derek?’ David asked me excitedly.

‘Yes, I can, David,’ I replied and described the spirit man who had joined us in the room.

‘Yes, that’s him! You can actually see him?’ David questioned, his eyes bright with excitement. ‘He lived here with us, but he died just over a year ago.’

‘And he suffered with a very painful back, didn’t he?’ I said, ruefully rubbing the area where I had experienced the sharp pain.

‘Yes, he did!’ David agreed.

David was almost jumping up and down on the spot in his excitement at me being able to see the spirit person who had been his constant visitor for almost 12 months.

There was a small rustling noise in the corner. ‘Milly’s here too,’ said David. ‘I liked Milly. She was like a mother to me.’

Poor David. In the three years he had been in this place he had lost two of the people he had grown close to.

I felt a cool breeze play around my body and then suddenly there she was. Milly was a rather stout-looking lady of around 65 to 70 years with white hair and a lovely warm but mischievous smile.

I stood in David’s room watching Jim and Milly display their obvious affection towards David. Suddenly I became aware of a feeling that was totally different from the warmth emanating from these two spirit people. I asked David what was in the adjoining room.

David seemed to shrink with fear. ‘I don’t want to go in there, Derek,’ he said. ‘There’s a nasty man in there and I keep well away from him.’

I asked whether I could go into the room for a moment.

‘You can go, but I’m not,’ said David hesitantly. ‘Please don’t ask me to go in there with you.’

I know now that what I was about to do was foolhardy in the extreme. Although I was aware of the spiritual system of things in that I knew of my spirit guide Sam, at that time he had not drawn close to me and introduced himself. I knew nevertheless that he would be by my side. I was also aware that Milly, the old spirit lady, was following close on my heels. She was worried, though. ‘Be careful,’ I heard her say. ‘Don’t try to deal with things that you know nothing about.’

Being young and foolish, I paid no heed to Milly’s warning and opened the door to the next room. As I entered, I felt a sudden swooping rush of air and saw the spirit form of a man rushing towards me. The force of his energy pinned me against the wall. I felt as though he was towering over me. I could feel the venom of his emotion as he swore and cursed and called me terrible names. I heard a loud shout and realized that it was me crying out in horror. I gabbled desperately, trying to explain that I meant no harm to this tormented soul who wanted to wreak revenge for what he had suffered whilst incarcerated in the institution.

Slowly I felt myself become calmer – more empowered. I knew that my guides and guardians were drawing closer to me in protection. I had put myself in a terribly dangerous situation, but they were there to help me.

The spirit man’s raving calmed down and he backed slowly away from me. He seemed to realize that I was no threat to him.

‘What is your name?’ I asked him.

He said nothing, merely glowered at me from across the room.

I heard Milly’s voice. ‘His name’s Alex,’ she said, ‘and he was here for years and years – even before I arrived. He suffered some terrible things in the name of treatment. We all did, but it affected Alex more. In the end he got the opportunity and he hanged himself. Me and Jim have been trying to coax him to come over to the light side, but he’s afraid that things will be bad for him – that he’ll be hurt again. Pray for him, Derek, and we’ll make sure that he comes over to the heavenly side with us.’

I promised that I would do just that.

I went back into David’s room and explained to him that both Jim and Milly were going to help the poor suffering soul next door and that he needn’t be afraid any longer.

David was looking puzzled. ‘You can see Jim and Milly and other people just like I can. You can hear them too. Why aren’t you in here with me?’

I was moved and saddened by his question. ‘I really don’t know, David,’ I replied.

It was more than time to go. I was already late. When I reached the car park all the other players were waiting on the coach for me. Our team trainer, George Patterson, was very annoyed. ‘Where’ve you been Derek? You’re in trouble on Monday! It’s right to the boss that you’ll be heading.’

I didn’t mind. I felt happy and elated. We had won the game 6–1 and with my prayers and the assistance of Milly and Jim, poor tormented Alex would find his way to his rightful placed in the world of spirit.

I occasionally kept in touch with David after I left Liverpool Football Club. I am happy to say that the institution was closed some years later and David was found a home in the community, where he integrated happily. As far as I am aware he is still living a happy and free life.

I often wonder how many people have been mistakenly diagnosed as mentally ill and incarcerated for their supposed ‘own good and the good of others’ when in fact all they were doing was communicating with the world beyond.

I was looking forward to the seven-week summer break from playing football. Although I loved my life as a professional footballer, it was nice to have a break from the rigorous training regime. Back in the 1960s the wages for footballers were a far cry from the enormous sums commanded today, so it was not unusual for us young players to take summer jobs to put a few extra pounds into our pockets. The previous year I had taken a job as a football coach at a Pontins Holiday Camp, but this year I did not feel inclined to play at being ‘Uncle Derek’ to a camp full of aspiring young football players and wanted to take the time off to relax and enjoy myself.

My friends Vinny and Frank planned to take a trip south to visit Vinny’s aunt, who lived in Langley, near Slough, for a week. They then planned to stay on for a further week at a youth hostel in the area. They asked me whether I would like to join them. I was delighted to accept their offer. Vinny and Frank had been my friends since school, but I did not get much time to spend with them due to my football commitments. This would be an ideal opportunity to catch up on old times and enjoy the company of my friends.

We set off one sunny summer morning, travelling down in Frank’s car, which was an enormous old Humber Sceptre. Although the vehicle was old, it still retained its luxurious interior.

After making our stately progress south we arrived at Vinny’s aunt’s home in the early evening. The next week was spent thoroughly enjoying ourselves as we explored the areas around Hounslow, Egham and Windsor.

When the first week was up we gathered our belongings, thanked Vinny’s aunt for putting up with us and moved on to the hostel. It was an old house of enormous proportions, standing in its own grounds. At one time I suppose it must have been a family home, but now it was given over to offering cheap accommodation and sporting activities to youngsters such as myself and my friends who wanted a cheap, clean and cheerful holiday environment away from our parents.

I have to say that the hostel was not quite what I expected, but I settled in nevertheless. The food was good and wholesome and the communal areas offered table tennis, television and snooker. The bedrooms, however, were in fact dormitories, with six single beds to each room. Next to each bed stood a metal locker/wardrobe in which we could secure our belongings during the time we were out of the hostel either exploring the surrounding area or taking advantage of the activities on offer.

Although I had never stayed in a large old house before, I thought nothing of it as I settled down for the night. The only strange thing was going to bed with so many other people in the same room.

On the first night I suppose I must have been asleep for a couple of hours or more when I was jolted awake by a loud banging noise which seemed to be coming from the metal cabinet next to my bed.

‘Did anyone hear those banging noises?’ I whispered out into the darkened room.

A couple of voices answered me from the beds containing lads I did not know, saying, ‘That’s Sparky messing about. Take no notice.’

Apparently ‘Sparky’ was a young man who was also staying at the hostel and who enjoyed playing practical jokes on the other residents. It was his practice to creep along to a room and pull the covers off people or reach inside the doorway to flash the lights on and off, then beat a hasty retreat back to the room in which he was sleeping.

Satisfied with this explanation, Vinny and Frank settled back down to sleep, but I was not so sure about it. I could sense psychically that there was more to the banging than met the eye.

I turned on my bedside light and was amazed to notice a large indentation in the door of the cabinet next to my bed which I was sure had not been there before. I turned the light off once more and lay there listening to the deep breathing of my bedroom companions and the creaks and groans of the old house. Sensing nothing untoward, though, I eventually drifted off to sleep once more.

The following morning Vinny, Frank and I made our way down to the kitchen area where we would eat our breakfast. The cook, Mrs Marsden, was a kindly lady who fed us well, but you could tell immediately that she would stand no nonsense from anyone staying at the hostel. As she was clearing away our plates, she asked what we planned to do that day. We told her that we were going down to the stables to take part in a trek around the area. ‘Well, you be careful, lads,’ she told us.

I wanted to ask her about the room in which we were staying, but because she seemed such a no-nonsense woman I thought that I had better keep my questions to myself, especially as they might get ‘Sparky’ into trouble.

We returned to the hostel later that evening with very sore legs and feeling extremely tired. After our dinner and a gentle game of snooker we decided to turn in early.

We all fell asleep more or less immediately and were not disturbed by the arrival of the other three residents of the room. But we had only been asleep for around three hours when we were startled awake by the sound of a loud scream echoing around the room.

We all switched our bedside lights on simultaneously and were shocked to see one of the lads in the other beds sitting up holding his face and looking absolutely terrified. We asked him what had happened and he told us that he had decided to flout the rules and have a cigarette in bed before going off to sleep – something that was definitely against the rules. He explained that as he was puffing away on his cigarette it had suddenly been snatched out of his mouth by what he described as ‘the shadowy figure of a man’ who had then turned the lit end of the cigarette around and jabbed it into the side of his face.

We all rushed over to him and sure enough, there on his left cheek was a small round burn mark. Everyone went very quiet. I remembered the previous evening and the loud bang which had resulted in the indentation of my wardrobe door. I was positive that there was a negative spirit presence in the room and I was determined, come what may, to get to the bottom of the matter.

Needless to say, not much sleeping went on in the room that night as we all sat up talking about what had happened. I did not like to air my own views on the matter to my bedroom companions. I was just 19 and was afraid that the lads I was with would make fun of me if I started talking in depth about spirit activity.

The following morning I tentatively asked Mrs Marsden whether any strange things had ever happened in the room in which my friends and I were staying. She looked at me long and hard and asked why I would ask such a question. I told her that there had been a couple of disturbing incidents over the previous two nights.

‘Oh dear!’ was her surprising response. ‘So it’s started up again, has it?’

She told me that many years ago the old house had been used as a hospital for soldiers recovering from injuries and exposure to gas sustained whilst fighting in the trenches during World War I. Many of these men were driven almost mad with the pain of their horrific injuries and amputations. There was a story that she had heard about a man, George Adams, who had suffered terrible burns. He used to lash out in his pain and later, as he slowly recovered, became terrified of fire. The mere thought of anybody putting him in danger by smoking in bed had driven him almost insane with anger and he would attack any poor unfortunate soldier who happened to light up a comforting cigarette anywhere around him. He had actually succumbed to his lung injuries at the old house. For many years after his passing there had been reports that his spirit was wandering around the old house, making his presence felt by banging around on locker doors, and anybody smoking in bed made him very angry.

‘I don’t know how true the story is,’ Mrs Marsden commented, ‘but I believe in these things and I suspect you do too, young man.’

I nodded, though again I was unwilling to share my experiences and my grandmother’s predictions.

That night we all went to bed after another busy day. Although we lay awake for a while listening and waiting for something to happen, nothing did and we awoke the following morning refreshed after a good night’s sleep.

The matter regarding George Adams was still lying heavy on my mind, though. I decided that when night fell and we had all retired to bed I would quietly attempt to communicate with him to try and persuade him to join his loved ones in his rightful place in the world of sprit. I had spent many long hours talking to my grandmother and she had explained to me that sometimes people pass away from this world but, for different reasons, do not pass immediately to the heavenly state. She told me that it was up to people like herself, and indeed me, to help them seek the light by praying and asking their family and guardian angels to come for them and show them the way to their heavenly home.

After another pleasant day and an evening at the cinema watching Dr Zhivago, Vinny, Frank and I returned to the hostel. We had a late supper and then retired to bed at around midnight.

We had been asleep for a while when I was wakened by what sounded like thunder. I switched on my bedside lamp and looked at my watch. It was 3.45 a.m. The noise continued, though strangely it began to sound as though it was coming from the walls of the room. Suddenly there was a very loud scraping noise, as though somebody was dragging something over the tiled floor. Just as the other lads in the room woke up and switched on their lights, I saw the dark shadow of a man cross the room.

The others had had enough. ‘Come on, Derek!’ they shouted as they all hurriedly dressed and ran off down the corridor, I assumed to the communal room.

‘I’m coming!’ I shouted after them. I had no intention of joining them, however, until I had found out exactly what was going on.

With the room empty I felt free to attempt to communicate with whoever was there. ‘Who are you?’ I shouted out into the atmosphere. ‘Why are you here? Let me see you!’

After I had shouted out my questions once more, the spirit form of a man built up before me. I could see quite clearly the horrible burn injuries to his face. I sensed a great anger with him and I quaked with fear at my audacity in thinking that I could take on such tangible negative energy on my own. I prayed fervently to my guides to help me. I knew that they would surround me and safeguard me, but that did not stop the real fear I was experiencing.

Then suddenly I realized – or was inspired to realize – that the man’s anger was not directed towards me personally. He was in fact hurt and afraid. These feelings manifested as anger about his situation. In reality this man did not realize that he had experienced physical death. He thought that he was still living his life here on Earth and was angry and frustrated because he thought that people were ignoring him because of his horrible disfigurement. Added to this was his fear of fires and being burned again.

‘But I can see you,’ I almost pleaded with him. He stopped and looked at me. As calmly as I could I spoke out into the ether. I told him that he must seek the light, that he must make his way to the heavenly state, that he must ignore for a while the living and must follow the bright being who frequently beckoned to him. I told him that it was right and proper that he should make that pleasant journey and live a trouble-free existence with his heavenly family, free from care and pain.

With that I closed my eyes and prayed fervently for him. I called upon his guides and the help of his guardians and family in the heavenly state to guide his footsteps. I also asked my own guides and inspirers to add their strength to my prayers and assist this poor demented soul on his journey.

The atmosphere began to lighten and after a few minutes I knew that George’s transition had finally taken place. The room held a feeling of peace and calm – a feeling that it had never had before.

I felt drained. I slowly left the room and went to join my friends in the communal room. ‘Everything’s quiet now,’ I told them. ‘Why don’t you come back to bed?’ Reluctantly, they agreed that they would do just that.

We all had a peaceful night’s sleep and for the rest of our stay we were undisturbed.

On our journey home Vinny, Frank and I discussed the events that had taken place. They asked what had happened in the room when I had been in there on my own and I decided to tell them.

They both looked at me strangely before saying in unison, ‘You’re weird! But we like you!’

We all laughed and the matter was forgotten – at least by them. For me it was just a taste of many more scary situations to come, and on some occasions even my life would be put at risk.