The Return of Yesterday's People

Released July 2002 by Capall Bann Publishing - Price £10.95 

This book is a true account of strange happenings that have taken place in my life and that of my immediate family.  These incidents add strength to the theory that life is a continuing and developing cycle of energy-experience through time.  My story documents these psychic incidents, which have occurred since my early childhood, and indicated the possibility of reincarnation.  Over a long period of time these events interrelated with each other to produce evidence of earth energies, reincarnation, inter-dimensional communicated wisdom and the need for the rescue of damaged souls in limbo.  I think even the most hardened cynic- would find it difficult to scorn or reject the whole of my story.  There would seem to be so much to lose and so little to gain by doing so.

A part of this story, and the events it covers, took place in a very old thatched cottage in a Dorset village.  Our move to this very particular spot was foretold by a number of independent sources.  The purpose behind our return, as it turned out to be, became known to us - but only after many difficulties.

The story also describes my relationship with a Dorset country parson in a life some four hundred years ago.  The Reverend William Thomas has much to say that can help us greatly in coping with the pressures and influences of life today and that is one reason why this inter-dimensional friendship was re-kindled.

Psychic phenomena was also experienced with I went to live with my family at two further locations, it would appear, I had inhabited during a past incarnation.  One was a Victorian farm in Dorset and the other an ancient Somerset farm.  I now began to understand that my life, this time around, was about unfinished business from past lives.

I have met and made many good friends over the period of time when these events took place.   Without their support and encouragement this book would not have been written.  They have offered me practical assistance and most of all they have worked alongside me as I have tried to unravel the mystery that has unfolded.   The experiences, that my family and myself have undergone, as a result of the events I describe, have sometimes been very hard. Deep discussion and careful examination of the facts, as they were revealed, made it apparent to us all that the events that took place were more than strange coincidences.  They hold a deep and universal significance for all of us.  I have been able to prove the validity of some of the psychic experiences and information received by searching through historic records.

Brushes with the authority of the Church, the British Banking System and the Legal Profession are a part of my story and the perceptive reader will note how, from an early age, I had to struggle against such authority in order to establish my own integrity and find my own truth.  I offer the suggestion that in the Aquarian Age, we each one of us, needs to seek the knowledge of our reality, and that it is only through this Gnosis that we will be able to cope with the dangerous tendencies and influences that are beginning to pile up on the horizons of the future.

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EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

I still had no understanding of what my part had been in this unfolding mystery.  I felt I might never do so, other than have faint recollections of a life as a puritan girl in Somerset a few hundred years before.  However, within a few months I was to gain a greater insight.  It was the day of the funeral of Princess Diana.  Brian and I were alone at the farm.  We had been out riding our horses early in the morning as it was a beautiful day.  We came back to watch the funeral on television.  We were sitting in the lounge, with the dogs at our sides.  About fifteen minutes into the funeral proceedings I became aware of a very tall man standing outside the lounge window which faced a rear door of the farmhouse.  I was seeing what I like to refer to, these days, as a 'yesterday's person'.  His presence bought a shiver down my spine.  I told Brian and expressed the fact that I did not wish to see this man's eyes because I had a great fear of them.  The dogs also seemed transfixed, looking silently  up at the window.  The man was dressed in a black cloak with a huge brimmed black hat.

I tried to erase the presence of this man from my mind and get on with watching the funeral but he did not go away.  After some thirty minutes I felt the room around me filling with white light.  Brian and I were both aware of this light.  It was not an unpleasant experience.  Then I witnessed the plaster on the walls falling away and I could see the original bare stone of the farmhouse.  Brian did not see this but continued to experience the light.  I then saw the stone walls falling away and I could clearly see that the farmhouse site was on a mound.  Surrounding the mound, down on one knee, with muskets pointed at the site of the farmhouse, were twenty or thirty soldiers in black and white uniforms. They had buckles on their shoes, buckled sashes around their waists and were wearing small black hats.  I could sense myself moving towards a big wooden door to respond to a heavy fist hammering on it.  I opened the door and looked into the cold eyes of the tall man in a black cloak, wearing a large brimmed black hat with a huge white plume feather in it.  He handed me a rolled-up piece of paper.  It contained notification that we were, as a community, charged with hiding a fugitive who was on the run from what I assume were Royalists.  I may have been experiencing a scene from the times of Cromwell.  I knew we were innocent of the accusation and yet what followed appeared to be some kind of search of the farm and massacre of people and animals.  Fortunately I was spared the details.

I felt I was experiencing a situation that required rescue from the trauma of its own history.  I had seen Christopher, and others like him, work in this area and I knew what I had to do.  I prayed, blessed and forgave those souls involved and implored them to move on to other brighter and higher realms of existence.

I returned to the reality of our lounge and the funeral of the Princess of Wales on television.  I felt extreme relief, almost joy, at what had transpired because I had gained a deep insight into the past events that had polluted the environment of that farm and I had played a small part in the clearance of those horrible vibrations.  I had always admired and respected those who worked in the realms of psychic rescue though I had never had any desire to work in that area myself.  However, spontaneously having learned from watching others at the same work, I had reacted.

Brian had remained silent throughout these events, realizing that I was in some kind of strange dream-like state and  obviously dealing with something connected to the light in the room and the man with the frightening eyes.  When I told him what had happened he was relieved we seemed to have solved the mystery about just why it had been our fate to live at that farm.   I felt, and so did he, that the time to leave had now arrived.  We both very much wanted to move.  The site was now cleansed for others and we had earned a release from past memories.

It is interesting that the rescue of the damaged souls at the farm took place on that sad day of the funeral of Princess Diana.  It seemed that the national emotion on that day was unified and loving and, maybe, it needed such emotion to trigger the event we had experienced.  Perhaps the energy of love was so strong, across the nation, that the historical trauma at our site had become sufficiently focused so that we could deal with it.

Just one week prior to moving to our new home I called into a local Somerset reference library to see if I could trace the history of the farm.  Most of the records relating to the area were away in Taunton, being re-compiled, so there was little information I could get at.  Maybe that is just as well, because readers might think I had read the records first and then invented the tale - a not unreasonable  suspicion in the present cultural climate.  However, with my hand on my heart, I do say that it is not so.

There was one small book in the library which disclosed that the farm where the events took place had been the site of secret Puritan meetings following the 'driving out' of a Puritan preacher from a local village.  I also discovered that skeletons, in shallow graves, had been found on the hill at the entrance of the farm driveway when a new turnpike road had been built.  Incidentally the driveway entrance had, over the years, proved to be an accident black spot!  The records for that village in Somerset, relating to the arrest, imprisonment and transportation of people involved in the uprisings against Cromwell  have been lost, although they still existed for some Somerset villages.  One day, perhaps, we shall learn what actually happened.