Katie Coutts - The Ghost Whisperer - A Real-Life Psychic’s Stories

I was very glad when Caroline left my office. This was one phantom that didn’t exist, a real ‘phantom phantom’, so to speak. I wanted to go and lie down in a darkened room and forget about ever doing a reading again!

I didn’t though. The next day I was back at it, with several new clients. I’d even managed to put Caroline out my mind when the phone rang and there she was. ‘You won’t believe this,’ she said. I confess I actually thought, ‘What is it now? More doings of the phantom sister?’ – quite uncharacteristically, I must add!

‘I expect this won’t much surprise you, but I do have a sister. I asked Mum.’

It turned out that Caroline was not an ‘only one’ after all. There had been a ‘first born’, a girl who, if she had lived, would have been two years older than Caroline. But she didn’t live. She died roughly a day after she was born. Caroline’s parents had been devastated. Then Caroline came along. With a typical ‘stiff upper lip’ they never again discussed the little girl they had lost, throwing all their energies into raising Caroline. And after a while there seemed very little point in mentioning it to her, until Caroline asked.

Yet her sister was very clearly with her. In fact, she had probably always been but was waiting for her moment, for the time when she felt she was needed. That was when she decided to make her presence known and do what every big sister does – look after the little one. It was as if she had decided that even death wasn’t going to stop her.

‘You must go back for Alison … she needs you’

When Kirsten first came to me, she’d no idea who this phantom Alison was. But she was very disturbed by the thought of her and by what had happened only a month before. So disturbed, she felt she had to seek help, at least to get it off her chest. The experience was so profound, she didn’t know where to turn. Although she knew that the people, or rather the spirits of the people, involved were her own dearly loved parents, the confusion was such, she was left wondering if she had imagined it all. I was convinced, however, that she wasn’t. When one of the things they said to her came about, what other proof was needed? When you hear this story, I’m sure you’ll agree, to quote the bard, ‘there are more things in heaven and earth …’.

Kirsten’s story begins on Christmas Eve. She had been allowed home from hospital just for the festive season to spend some time with her husband and children. Kirsten had been very ill. So ill that, at one point, staff had feared she would die. Kirsten didn’t die, however, but held on bravely. As Christmas approached, she begged to be allowed to go home. All the other members of her family – her beloved parents and grandparents – were dead, so she was especially desperate to be home with those she was devoted to. The hospital staff agreed, and at five o’clock that evening, the taxi carrying her drew up at the door of her house.

She was delighted to be home but she had not been there long when she began to feel unwell. The excitement of the trip had been too much for her and she begged to be allowed to go upstairs and lie down. Her temperature shot up. She became delirious and, as she did, realized she had made a mistake in asking to come home. Downstairs she could hear her husband and children laughing as they set up the table for the next day. Suddenly she felt strongly it was a meal she was never going to see.

As she grew progressively weaker, the room seeming to fade away before her, she attempted to rise from the bed. But she was weak and toppled over. Instead of falling down, however, she was aware of a strange sensation, as if she was floating. Suddenly, she didn’t care if she hurt herself. She was too weak to cry out for help. The feeling was wonderful – all her cares were draining away.

A mist grew up round her. As it did she saw that the room was swathed in layers and layers of white tulle – so beautiful, she gasped. Then she became aware of the figure coming towards her. It was her father, as clear as if he was still alive. Behind him, and looking exactly as she remembered him, was her beloved grandfather. Now Kirsten’s eyes filled with tears – ones of happiness though. She tried to reach through the mist towards them in the hope of touching their hands, but though they both looked happy enough to see her, her father shook his head. Kirsten remembers clearly the words he said.

‘You must go back. You will recover and you’ve much do to in your life before you can join us. You’re to go back for Alison, she needs you.’

Only at that point did Kirsten feel that she was being robbed. ‘But I don’t know any Alison,’ she said. ‘Please let me come with you.’

Her father shook his head. Kirsten felt the image fading. Then she must have fallen asleep. She was woken by her husband bringing the children in to show her some of the decorations they had been making for Christmas Day.

Kirsten had no idea whether what she had seen was a dream or not, but for the first time she felt better. The next day passed wonderfully for her and she went back into hospital to be told she was on the mend. She came to me because she wasn’t sure. There were things about what had happened she didn’t understand. Most importantly, she’d no idea who Alison was. She needed to find out.

‘Well, that’s not a problem,’ I told her. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know already. My vibes all tell me you’re pregnant.’

This was, of course, a great shock to Kirsten. She already had three children and a fourth – well, that would make things difficult, she felt. Was I sure?

‘I’m very sure!’ I told her. ‘What’s more, it’s a little girl.’

In this respect I was proved right. Kirsten did have a baby daughter, just under eight months later. Naturally, she called her Alison. Even then, as she remembered what had happened on that Christmas Eve, she still had cause to wonder about many things. Had she really been as close to death as all that? Was what she saw a vision of heaven? Did her parents and grandparents really watch over her?

Eventually, as Alison grew into a lovely little girl, there were no doubts. ‘That’s granddad,’ she said one day, pointing out a picture of Kirsten’s dad, one that had been taken three months before his death. ‘He wasn’t well then.’

‘Yes,’ Kirsten was amazed. ‘But how do you know?’

The little girl smiled. ‘Because I’ve met him.’

The Man who Went to his Own Funeral

Old John McFarlane was a very determined man – so determined, in fact, that he went to his own funeral and was seen there by no fewer than four people. I got to hear of it when one of them came to me for a reading.

Since she was his daughter, it seemed natural that Shona would be one of the first to notice the man in respectful black, standing at the fringes of the crowd. He was only there for a second or two but, to quote her own words, ‘she knew her own father when she saw him’.

John McFarlane had been ill for some time and had died only a few days earlier. But it seemed he wanted to go to the funeral. Why? It was something I immediately wanted to know. Even before I had put the question, however, Shona told me. ‘He wanted to see who was there,’ she said. How did she know? Well, apparently, John came to her in a dream two days later and told her. He was a bit of a mischievous charmer. That much I certainly picked up on from the reading, where he came over to me and said there was no harm done, he hadn’t intended to frighten anyone!

Shona came to see me because she was worried about her mum. Since the funeral, this lady’s health had gone downhill – she had seen John that day but that was not the reason for her deterioration in health. With someone as strong-willed as John about, it seemed silly not to ask him. Clear as day, I heard him say, ‘She just misses me!’ He also kept using the word ‘dream’. I believed he was communicating through this medium, using it to tell Shona to get in touch with him, through me, if there was anything worrying her at all.