Daniel’s Story – or The Power of Truth

Lonely Man by Salihguler

For every good reason there is to lie, there is a better reason to tell the truth. 
~ Bo Bennett

Sometimes life as a psychic can be very challenging.  But it can also be incredibly rewarding.  Daniel is one of those stories.

For about a month before Daniel came to see me, I had recurring visions and dream scenes.  At the time I didn’t know they were linked to Daniel.  All I knew was that they upset and confused me.

I would wake in the night with a splitting headache.  When I finally went back to sleep I would be walking down a corridor (but I knew it wasn’t me – I was just looking through someone else’s eyes), my vision blurred, my movements slow and stumbled, filled with a sense of anger, futility and despair. But it was muddled, my thinking, and impaired somehow.  I would push open a door, gain a sudden sense of clarity about something, and stagger purposefully toward a road.

Bang!

I would wake up again.  This time I would be calm. And all that came to me was the name Jason.

Was it really a dream?  Was it my dream? Was it the future? The past?  I had no idea, but it went from a once a week dream to a twice a week dream to a nightly thing, and it began to wreck my waking hours – with the lack of sleep, and the emotional stress from the intensity of the feelings I experienced each night and my inability to understand them.

Image from dcairns.wordpress.com

But the morning Daniel came to see me I had slept like a baby all night. What was even better was that my other two appointments for psychic readings had been rescheduled, so I had only one, Daniel’s, at nine in the morning. I felt like something good was about to happen. I began to think about how I would spend the rest of my day.  Maybe a massage, or some acupuncture.  Maybe a bookshop… My mind was pleasingly clear, and I felt happy and optimistic.

Then Daniel turned up.

Daniel was edgy. A young man in his early twenties, or perhaps a shade older. My clients are often nervous, but never edgy. Daniel stood at my door in a hoodie, although it was warm, and he kept looking around like he felt he was being watched.  He couldn’t look me in the eye. It wasn’t exactly a great start energetically.

I shook his hand in greeting, and it was as if a dark shadow started running from his arm and up mine.  It didn’t scare me, but it showed me what a level of mental anguish Daniel was in. I had this sudden understanding that he saw that I was somehow his last chance.

As I held his hand he began to shake.  His face was drawn and pale.

“Come in,” I told him, and I directed him straight into my lounge-room. That’s not what I normally do.  Usually I would take my client straight into the room where I do my readings.  Instead I sat Daniel down and asked him if he’d like a cup of tea. Yes, he did, so I made a pot while he waited. As I picked up the tray to take in to him a voice in my head said Ask him about Jason.

Jason. That name again.  My whole body began to tremble slightly, but not with fear. It was a crazy sense of adrenalin.  I just knew something big was about to happen.

I poured tea, sat down opposite him, and after we’d both sipped our tea and put our cups down I found myself saying, “Okay Daniel. There’s something we really need to talk about today.  We need to talk about Jason.”

His face crumpled in shock.  Daniel began to cry. “I didn’t come here to talk about that.  How did you know about that?  How did you know?” he kept muttering.

“Come on, Daniel.  You need to talk to me,” I encouraged, as a whole movie flashed before me and I understood with certainty what was going on.

Daniel looked at me, his eyes filled with anguish.  “Please help me. I killed somebody,” he said.

“I know,” I replied sympathetically.  “You killed Jason.”

“It was terrible,” he whispered.  And then he told me his story. The one he had kept locked inside him all that time.

It was Melbourne, the end of his senior year,and all of his friends were getting ready to fly to the Gold Coast for Schoolies Week. Daniel had made the decision not to go.  He didn’t have enough money and he’d just organised a job at a local hardware store.  He planned to work there until he started Uni the next year. He was sure he’d get into engineering and his studies came first. He’d already celebrated the last night of school with his mates on Thursday. They would fly out early on Saturday morning which gave them a full day to recover and pack their bags.

His parents went away for the weekend on Friday night, and Daniel went to the local pizza place with his mates and then cried off early and went home.  He started work at seven the next morning.

But just after midnight his mates rang him, drunk, from the local pub.  They couldn’t get a taxi.  Could he come and pick them up?

Daniel’s old car couldn’t fit five people, but his Dad’s could.  It was only a few blocks away. Even though he was banned from driving his Dad’s car he made the decision to borrow it.  They’d never know, and he’d be really careful.

He drove to the hotel, and circled through the packed carpark.  It was a tight squeeze, as cars had parked illegally, and the whole place was dimly lit.  He couldn’t find a park anywhere, so he decided to go back out onto the street to park.  Daniel had just edged past a line of cars when a person staggered out of the garden directly in front of him.  He braked but it was too late.  He hit the man, who fell onto the bonnet of the car before sliding off onto the road.

Daniel reversed.  The man lay in the gutter, illuminated by his headlights. There was so much partying noise coming from the pub but no-one was rushing over.  Daniel got out of the car and ran over to the man.  He turned him over and looked into his unfocused eyes.  He was still breathing, but his breath was ragged and he stank of alcohol.

Are you okay?  He kept asking the man over and over, but the man didn’t answer.

And that’s when something snapped inside him. Daniel sat the man up, leaning against a tree next to the path where everyone would walk to the car park. Somebody would be sure to see him.  Then he got back into the car and drove towards home.  On the way he pulled over and called an ambulance from a public phone.  Just in case.

When he got home he realised that his Dad’s car was damaged.  There was a large dent on the bonnet, and a chip in the paint. Then he heard police sirens, and watched several patrol cars race past on the road outside. The sirens ended in just a minute or two.  They must have stopped at the pub.  Had he killed that drunk man? Daniel panicked. He raced around the house, shoving things in his backpack.  He grabbed as much money as he could find, and then he took off.

The first year was hardest. He got a bus to North Queensland, and stayed at a backpackers, picking fruit and trying to blend in.  He saw on the news that he’d killed a man called Jason. He was never linked to the crime.  He didn’t ring his parents or make any contact.  He chose a new name.

But it was tough.  He couldn’t open a new bank account, he couldn’t register a car or get a drivers license, he didn’t have a tax file number to get a proper job. He lived life as a loner, constantly moving from place to place.

So now here he was, sitting on my lounge, emotionally destroyed at twenty six.

“We need to call the police,” I said.

“Okay.”  Daniel nodded his head like a little boy. I made a call to a detective I’ve worked with before.  Within an hour two uniformed police arrived at my house.  After a prolonged interview in my lounge-room they took Daniel away.

Charges were never laid.  Jason was a petty crook and addict, and his death was caused by a potent cocktail of drugs and alcohol. Police believe he may have deliberately walked out in front of Daniel. Being hit by a car was not the cause of death.

Daniel was reunited with his family, and has enrolled to study psychology at University next year. He called me to thank me not long ago.  He has a girlfriend now, and he can live life out in the open again.  He’s a changed man.

And Jason? I’ve never had a bad dream about him since. But the night after Daniel came to see me I couldn’t sleep at all. Just on dawn, as I sat in my darkened lounge, I heard Jason’s voice one last time. Thank You.

* NB – This story is told with permission. Names and locations have been changed to preserve the privacy of those involved.

28 thoughts on “Daniel’s Story – or The Power of Truth

  1. goosebumps…and the ‘truth’ is the only choice we have for serenity in our lives. Very inspiring story..much gratitude to Daniel and how blessed was he to turn up on you doorstep..XXX

  2. Wow! Wonderful that “Daniel” got his life back AND sooo wonderful that “Jason” can now rest peacefully. It must have been hard on his spirit, too, knowing the anguish that he’d caused Daniel for those years.

    Still, I suppose they’re the contracts we make when we come to 3D…

    Thanks for sharing the story, Nicole. Love these so much!

    ~Karen xxx

  3. You tell stories so well! I can’t help thinking about Daniel’s parents and what happened when they returned from their weekend away to find the car dented and their son gone. Did he stay in touch with them while he was on the road? It must have been very traumatic, but with a happy ending, thankfully.

  4. This shows the power of spirit, the total trust you have and the synchronicity of Daniel’s meeting with you. Thank you so very much for sharing this most beautiful encounter. I am so pleased that Daniel and his family are reunited and that he can move forward with his life and I am so pleased that Jason cared enough to ensure that the truth came out. Bless you xxx

  5. Wow, what a powerful story. That’s an amazing gift to be able to know/see the things you do. When did you realize you had psychic abilities?(if you do not mind the question) I am very much in awe of what you are able to do. That’s a wonderful thing you did for that young man too. You gave him back his life. Lovely ending.

    • I realised I had psychic abilities at a very young age – but back then I thought everyone did! It runs through the matriarchal line of my family, and I consider it a great Blessing. I truly love what I do. Thanks for your kind comments. Bless xoxo

      • Hi, thanks for your reply. I forgot to check my notifications page so am a bit late reading your response. Sorry about that.

        My mom (when she was alive) had a sixth sense. My maternal grandmother used to read tea leaves and be able to read people very well-I don’t know if she is/was psychic. She’s rather dysfunctional but better than she used to be I suppose. I don’t consider myself psychic but am aware of people’s energy and feelings, as well as their intentions. Sometimes I dream of future events in my own life (nothing like natural disasters or anything!) and can have visions of things to come. But I sort of have trouble with the word psychic since people tend to make fun of it. Sixth sense seems more acceptable and less likely to be ridiculed for having.

        My dad’s side of the family is very much lacking in any kind of intuitive abilities! LOL

  6. Wow, Nicole! That is a very powerful story and thank you soooo’ much for sharing it. I felt the pain and the anguish from all involved, including yourself. What an incredibly sad story but also shows how running from the truth can ultimately eat you up and destroy you. I know he was young and afraid and so very glad he finally had the courage to come and see you.

    It is wonderful that he now has gone into healing and helping others face their truths so they can heal their life.

    Those dreams you had must have been exhausting and truly disturbing – you must have felt such relief when they finally ended and ended with a thank you! How beautiful ♥ Big luv soul sista X

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