I’m in Brisbane Queensland at the moment, where I’ve been doing some work for the university where I’m an Adjunct Prof…
I grew up in Brisbane, and my family lives there – brother, sisters, and mother. Jennifer and I have been staying with my youngest sister, Angela.
We had dinner together last night, and my mum came over. She’s 87, and as it turns out the dinner was a celebration of the publication of her new book – The Killer with Three Hundred Names.
The book details a twelve year investigation she undertook to solve one of Australia’s most notorious triple homicides, committed over a hundred years ago. The ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) did a half hour profile on my mum last year, in a programme called Australian Story that features prominent Australians.
Here is a link to the book on Amazon if you’re interested –
This is her fifth book. In each book she’s solved a murder that dates back more than a hundred years.
My mum is remarkable.
Anyway over dinner we were talking about the intuition film I’m doing, and she told me how as a youngster – when I was two to three years old – I seemed to have some kind of communication with the spirit world.
it would happen when we were driving. I’d sit up in the back of the car, look ahead out the front windscreen and smile, and start saying: “Hewo…” (Hello)
And then up ahead a cemetery would come into view.
Evidently this happened many times, and it freaked out my mum and dad – because they could never see the cemetery. Often it was around a corner or over the crest of a hill – but I would sit up and smile and start saying hewo…
My mother said last night that at that age, I didn’t even know what a cemetery was. Much less anticipate it before anyone else saw it. Much less seemingly communicate with spirits.
She said that she and my father at the time thought it was “very strange.”
And then as I got older it stopped.
Of course I can’t remember any of this.
But in esoteric writings they say that a child up to the age of two or three often carries the wisdom and capabilities of past lives. But they disappear as you get older, and the patina of the real world begins to encrust those sensitivities.
A couple of people around the table said they had goosebumps as my mother was telling the story. This wasn’t some Halloween gag. She was simply telling me what she and my father had witnessed when I was young.
She said she couldn’t remember if I’d exhibited any other “tendencies,” but she remembered that vividly.