How Psychic Are You?
By Sara Reistad-Long
SUE 43, writer
Once, when I was a kid, I was at my paternal great-grandfather's house, sitting alone. I was probably being punished for something, because I remember feeling sorry for myself. An unfamiliar woman walked into the room. She introduced herself as my great-grandmother and told me that, whatever happened in my life, she'd always be there for me.
Years later, when my grandmother died, my grandfather and I were looking at a bunch of old pictures. I saw one of a woman I recognized immediately. My grandfather didn't seem surprised that I knew who she was-- he'd seen her that same day, and she'd told him she was taking me under her special care. Apparently, I'm her spitting image--in looks and personality.
That's not the only time a dead person has visited me: Somebody once died in the house where my husband and I live. Since we have to--and want to--live there, we don't really want to know how he died. For a long time my husband worked nights, and often, I'd wake up seeing somebody sitting on his side of the bed. I just assumed it was my husband, and I'd lean over to touch him. But instead of feeling a body, my hand would hit the bed, and the person would immediately get up and walk out. It spooked me. My kids saw him, too. So we named the guy Fred--he was, after all, part of our household. My husband was the last one to see Fred. He was alone in the kitchen. At first he thought he heard the dog, but then he saw this being walk by. He was dumbfounded. Prior to that, he'd been very skeptical.