I just finished co-writing a book with a friend who believes that she has had many face-to-face conversations with her spirit guide during hypnotherapy sessions.

I like the idea that I am being guided. Sometimes I think maybe I am. Other times I feel completely alone and lost. I suppose this makes me no different than anyone else.

Are you self publishing the book??

Told ya my story was a long one... it just takes oomph to talk or write about it. But I do believe he watches over me. I get weird things that happen to remind me so.

Yeah - I believe I was there for one of those reminders when Joe began describing him while we were at Tokeland.

I appreciate what it took for you to write that, Regan.

Sometimes, one of them or all three will make an appearance at an investigation.

Then it gets interesting.

This was in the year 1995 when he took his life. I had graduated high school the year before; he was in college and a couple years older than me.

John and I had a pact: If we felt that depressed we would call one another. We would talk through the issues at hand. John called me, but I was at work. I couldn't talk with him; my employer was a tough place. I could tell something was wrong with him. Flash forward to the next morning, about 4:45AM - 5:30 (time was a bit off for me at this point). I get a call from my foster sister that said, "Regan, I have to tell you something pretty bad. John killed himself this morning."

I was in total shock, "What the hell? That's not a nice prank! Why the hell would you call me and tell me a lie like that!"

My foster sister's best friend was John's neighbor. She's the one that found him, therefore she called my sister so she could tell me before I got wind from somewhere else. Apparently John and his father had argued about his college course grades. He was studying forestry, and getting A's and B's. His father wanted High As, no Bs, and a grade point average of 4.0 or he'd refuse to assist with college funding anymore. His father was a hard ****, and a jerk. He would tell John he'd never make it, he was a loser, he was the family's embarrassment.His father left for work, and job ate his shot gun. His neighbor, my foster sister's best friend, heard it. Ran next door, and found him. I remember hanging up on my sister, after some unpleasantries (is that even a word?) over the phone. I remember getting into my little yellow happy car and driving to John's house. As I circled the block where he lived, I had seen the EMT pulling him out of the house in a cadaver bag, on a gurney rolling him towards the coroner's van. This was around 5:45AM. I don't remember the rest of the day. I remember glimpses.

Standing at the foot of my parent's bed, starring at them, hollow, quiet and numb.

I hadn't seen them in many months, for I had separated myself from them; Hence the foster sister part.

I remember being in my mom's truck with her, driving my sister to some dance recital / cheer leading thing.

Then I remember being at home in my bed.About a week passes, his parents are A-HOLES. They dispose of him without a funeral, and wouldn't tell any of his friends where he was placed / buried. We didn't even know until five years later that he was cremated. His parents literally swept it under the rug. I only found out because they came into my place of employment, and I blatantly asked them.Our pastor allowed us to have our own funeral. He did the ceremony, opened the church and invited all his friends to come in for closure. I helped set it up, for I was his closest friend. I went to the faux funeral, but couldn't gather enough courage to go in. I watched as my friends, John's friends, mingled and gathered as they entered the daunting facility. I couldn't face it; I didn't want to face it. I stayed in my car. I fell asleep in the parking lot outside of the church; I was so exhausted putting up a phony plastered smile for everyone else.

I dreamt that John came to me. He led me through a headstone painted landscape, to a cement wall. The wall was about waist high, and we sat upon it. The wall didn't have a plaque, but I knew it was his. He told me why he did it, he told me where he was placed, and then he told me not to worry. He was appointed to be my guardian, to follow and protect over me. He then hugged me, tightly. I could smell the woodsy smell on his flannel he always wore. I could feel his lumberjack beard brush and tickle my neck, and I awoke.

As I woke, I could still feel his arms holding me very tightly. I was crying so hard when I woke up, I was choking. My car smelled like the earth around the cemetery, the woodsy smell of John.To this day I have no doubt he came to me.

To this day I cannot get over the angry of why he left.

To this day I cannot get over the angry of why his family treated him that way.

To this day I have no patience for people who declare they're going to kill themselves; it's a selfish act.

On a side note, here was my daily Hindu wisdom today.. which I received AFTER posting this.

No one can die. None can be degraded forever. Life is but a playground, however gross the play may be. However we may receive blows and however knocked about we may be, the Soul is there and is never injured. We are that Infinite.

-Vivekananda

From "Teachings of the Hindu Mystics," © 2001 by Andrew Harvey. Reprinted by arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Boston, http://www.shambhala.com.

I'm so sorry this happened Regan.

John and I had a pact: If we felt that depressed we would call one another. We would talk through the issues at hand. John called me, but I was at work. I couldn't talk with him; my employer was a tough place. I could tell something was wrong with him. Flash forward to the next morning, about 4:45AM - 5:30 (time was a bit off for me at this point). I get a call from my foster sister that said, "Regan, I have to tell you something pretty bad. John killed himself this morning."

I was in total shock, "What the hell? That's not a nice prank! Why the hell would you call me and tell me a lie like that!"

My foster sister's best friend was John's neighbor. She's the one that found him, therefore she called my sister so she could tell me before I got wind from somewhere else. Apparently John and his father had argued about his college course grades. He was studying forestry, and getting A's and B's. His father wanted High As, no Bs, and a grade point average of 4.0 or he'd refuse to assist with college funding anymore. His father was a hard ****, and a jerk. He would tell John he'd never make it, he was a loser, he was the family's embarrassment.His father left for work, and job ate his shot gun. His neighbor, my foster sister's best friend, heard it. Ran next door, and found him. I remember hanging up on my sister, after some unpleasantries (is that even a word?) over the phone. I remember getting into my little yellow happy car and driving to John's house. As I circled the block where he lived, I had seen the EMT pulling him out of the house in a cadaver bag, on a gurney rolling him towards the coroner's van. This was around 5:45AM. I don't remember the rest of the day. I remember glimpses.

Standing at the foot of my parent's bed, starring at them, hollow, quiet and numb.

I hadn't seen them in many months, for I had separated myself from them; Hence the foster sister part.

I remember being in my mom's truck with her, driving my sister to some dance recital / cheer leading thing.

Then I remember being at home in my bed.About a week passes, his parents are A-HOLES. They dispose of him without a funeral, and wouldn't tell any of his friends where he was placed / buried. We didn't even know until five years later that he was cremated. His parents literally swept it under the rug. I only found out because they came into my place of employment, and I blatantly asked them.Our pastor allowed us to have our own funeral. He did the ceremony, opened the church and invited all his friends to come in for closure. I helped set it up, for I was his closest friend. I went to the faux funeral, but couldn't gather enough courage to go in. I watched as my friends, John's friends, mingled and gathered as they entered the daunting facility. I couldn't face it; I didn't want to face it. I stayed in my car. I fell asleep in the parking lot outside of the church; I was so exhausted putting up a phony plastered smile for everyone else.

I dreamt that John came to me. He led me through a headstone painted landscape, to a cement wall. The wall was about waist high, and we sat upon it. The wall didn't have a plaque, but I knew it was his. He told me why he did it, he told me where he was placed, and then he told me not to worry. He was appointed to be my guardian, to follow and protect over me. He then hugged me, tightly. I could smell the woodsy smell on his flannel he always wore. I could feel his lumberjack beard brush and tickle my neck, and I awoke.

As I woke, I could still feel his arms holding me very tightly. I was crying so hard when I woke up, I was choking. My car smelled like the earth around the cemetery, the woodsy smell of John.To this day I have no doubt he came to me.

To this day I cannot get over the angry of why he left.

To this day I cannot get over the angry of why his family treated him that way.

To this day I have no patience for people who declare they're going to kill themselves; it's a selfish act.

On a side note, here was my daily Hindu wisdom today.. which I received AFTER posting this.

No one can die. None can be degraded forever. Life is but a playground, however gross the play may be. However we may receive blows and however knocked about we may be, the Soul is there and is never injured. We are that Infinite.

-Vivekananda

From "Teachings of the Hindu Mystics," © 2001 by Andrew Harvey. Reprinted by arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Boston, http://www.shambhala.com.

I had a day today that required bringing old fear to the light. My mother is 81 years old. She suffers from dementia. Very confused. We took her today for an "elder assessment". They wound up admitting her to a program where we have very little input. I had to deal with the feelings of betrayal when I left her there. There is a LOT of guilt involved. I am over that now because I believe they can help her.

On point: Days ago, I enlisted the power of prayer and asked God and any spirit guides who might be watching to help me get my mother some help. My mother has not submitted to ANY medical help in 4 years. It was nothing short of a miracle that I got her up, dressed, fed breakfast and to the hospital by 12:30. Did I have help?-

Teresa, you did a great thing getting your mom assessed even though it is a hard thing to do.

I think that we do have spirit guides trying to help us.

I'm so glad to hear you were able to get your mom in and, hopefully, she will get the care she requires.

I know how hard it is dealing with an elder parent. My 79-year old mom lives with me and many times has reverted to childish behavior that drives me insane. She pulls the "I'm your mom" card more times than I can count and it is ridiculous at my age, especially in light of the fact that I'm supporting her.

You should not feel guilty. You sound like a caring, loving, responsible daughter. You did the right thing, as hard as it is.

I would never discount the power of prayer.

I had a day today that required bringing old fear to the light. My mother is 81 years old. She suffers from dementia. Very confused. We took her today for an "elder assessment". They wound up admitting her to a program where we have very little input. I had to deal with the feelings of betrayal when I left her there. There is a LOT of guilt involved. I am over that now because I believe they can help her.

On point: Days ago, I enlisted the power of prayer and asked God and any spirit guides who might be watching to help me get my mother some help. My mother has not submitted to ANY medical help in 4 years. It was nothing short of a miracle that I got her up, dressed, fed breakfast and to the hospital by 12:30. Did I have help?-

Miracles and guidance take all forms, don't you think?

On point: Days ago, I enlisted the power of prayer and asked God and any spirit guides who might be watching to help me get my mother some help. My mother has not submitted to ANY medical help in 4 years. It was nothing short of a miracle that I got her up, dressed, fed breakfast and to the hospital by 12:30. Did I have help?-

This was the translated version of that verse: Light exposes the true character of everything.

I blogged about it here.

Was I being guided? Maybe so. Many events in my life are conspiring right now to push me closer to belief. Carolyn has been patiently waiting for it to happen. I think I am almost there.

(MK, Sithy...We discussed this on chat a while back and I told you I would tell you the whole story sometime. Here it is...)

I met a man years ago who was the 7th son of a 7th son. I don't know for sure, but some people say this holds much mytical power and that these men are very special. One thing I do know is that Casey was a very special person. I believe, one of the people I was intended to meet at that point in my life. (I guess that means I believe in predestination)

My 20's were a pretty rocky decade. I was anxious, nervous, insecure, a bit anorexic probably. I suffered from gastrointestinal disorders, insomnia, bit my nails. I covered it all up with big 80's "mall" hair and a lot of Merle Norman makeup. And I drank a lot! At one of the bars I frequented I met the most gentle soul I had ever met. He was a mountain man. He told me about the way he grew up and of his beliefs. And about his spirit guide, and mine. He told me many things that he had NO way of knowing.

One night I had a horrible dream. The only thing I remember about it is that something HORRIBLE was chasing me. The foremost thing in my head was me screaming out "Casey! I need you!" At that time a blanket of serenity folded over me and I settled down and slept the rest of the night and most of the next day uninterrupted. (you fellow insomniacs know how rare that is)

The next night I saw Casey. We talked for a few minutes and he looked at me like he expected something from me. After a while he asked me "When are you going to tell me about your dream?" Well, when I could pick my jaw up off the floor I told him about my dream and the feeling of calm I experienced. He told me that he sent his spirit guide to watch over me.

I don't know if I believe in spirit guides...but I am glad Casey did!

Great story...reinforces my beliefs. /biggrin.png' class='bbc_emoticon' alt='B)' />

Oh, a Spirit guide thread. I need a map. /biggrin.png' class='bbc_emoticon' alt=':o' />

I have a spirit guide! Maybe thsa's why I find bruises on me and I don't remember how I got them.

My spirit guide needs to try harder.

I do get gut feelings a bit. Maybe, I'm just not intune.

Someone already beat me to it but mediation is a great way to get in touch with your spirit guides. We all have them, it's just trying to get in tune with them. I don't know what your religion is,

or if you follow one but that is one way to try to get in tune with them. Try to just clear your mind for a short time every day & maybe that will help. The spirit guides are just there to help if we

just let them.

Wow! That is amazing AH. Thanks for sharing your story. Do you get to keep in touch with Casey at all?

MK, that was one lost winter of my life when I hung out in Gatlinburg. After some ill planned events happened I burned every bridge between Sevier County and Blount County. I hadn't thought of Casey in years until the subject of special people came up one night on chat. I don't even know if he is still alive. I will say though, that when I remember that night and talk or type about it...I get goosebumps.