Never Off Duty – My Latest Strange Psychic Experience!

“Not everything we experience can be explained by logic or science.” 
Linda Westphal

I didn’t blog yesterday because I was sleeping in.

I was sleeping in because I’d been up half the night.

There was a reason for that, though. One that extends beyond my current flu and health issues that have been keeping me up.

I’m sleeping in our guest room right now so I don’t infect Ben or wake him with my constant tossing and turning. Somewhere around 2am, as I lay in a deep sleep, our smoke detector went off, shrilling loudly just outside my door. I woke in fright, jumped up, turned on all the lights and ran from room to room looking for the fire. My eyes were all hazy, or the house was filled with smoke. I couldn’t tell.

As I panted from the exertion of running with the flu, madly opening every door in our home to find nothing, the alarm stopped. My vision was still hazy. The waving hand in front of my face a blur. But I couldn’t smell smoke or see flames. It was a false alarm and maybe my eyes were just gummed up from the flu. I hauled myself back to bed, amazed that the alarm hadn’t woken Ben. (It had. He heard me running around and figured I’d wake him if there was a fire, so after a few minutes he rolled over and went back to sleep. That man is unflappable!)

No sooner had I closed my eyes than my phone started to beep. Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep, it called incessantly.

‘Shut up, Siri!’ I croaked as I reached for my phone, which promptly stopped beeping before I could do anything.

A woman I know came to mind. Anna. (*I’ve changed her name here for privacy purposes) Anna lives in another part of Australia with her son who is at university. I became convinced that Anna’s house was on fire. I got up again and rifled through my filing cabinet looking for her contact details. When I couldn’t find them I hacked my personal assistant’s work email and looked for Anna’s contact details there. No luck. Finally, I found her phone number in an old facebook message. Less than ten minutes had elapsed since our home smoke alarm had gone off.

I called Anna. No answer. I called again and again. Nothing. Then I used Facebook video to call her and this time she answered, groggy with sleep and confused.

‘Hello, Anna,’ I said. ‘It’s Nicole Cody. I’m so sorry to bother you in the middle of the night but I think your house might be on fire. Can you please check for me?’

She nodded a yes, got out of bed and made her way through darkened corridors. At the opposite end of the old house, she lives in was her son’s room.

She opened the door and there was the fire. His laptop had set his mattress alight and the curtains were ablaze too. Anna began to scream and dropped the phone.

As I was working out what to do next a next-door-neighbour appeared with a fire blanket and extinguisher. He’d been woken by Anna’s screams, smelled smoke and seen the flames from his own bedroom window and come rushing over. Meanwhile, his wife had called the fire brigade.

Anna called me back a few hours later. The fire was out and the bedroom was damaged but everyone was safe.

Anna was widowed last year and isn’t coping well. When the batteries on her old smoke alarm died she didn’t bother to replace them. That’s something her husband would have done. She has also been relying on alcohol and sleeping tablets to get to sleep each night. Her son was out with friends. If I hadn’t called she would have kept sleeping.

So, that’s why I didn’t blog yesterday. I was busy sleeping off my stressful night. This is how my life always is. No matter where I am, no matter the state of my health or the hour of the day my psychic switch is always on and I’m always on duty. Who made my smoke alarm go off, or my phone beep? I’ll never know, but I’m extremely grateful.

It’s a strange life I live, but a fulfilling one.
Holding you all in my prayers and meditations, Nicole ❤ xx

Disturbing Dreams and Strange Comforts

“Use the wings of the flying Universe, 
Dream with open eyes; 
See in darkness.” 
~  Dejan Stojanovic


One of the things my Aboriginal Aunties taught me when I lived in the Kimberley was that night flying would become a very important part of my healing business. During the night while I was asleep my soul became untethered they said, and in the dreaming place it could travel wherever it was needed.

Since my twenties every night after my meditation I pray that my soul can be useful during the dream state. I ask that I can be of service. I trust that it can be so.

I use my nights to fly.

Many of my students and clients have reported me visiting them during the night, or appearing in their dreams. Their recollections always tally with my own. It’s something I can’t explain, but it is also something I have grown accustomed to – a new kind of normal, I guess.

Mostly it’s a positive experience. But occasionally it really throws me. Like the time I cradled a dying stranger in my arms. A man I later found out was real, and who had died on the other side of the globe in just the way it had happened in my dream.

Then there was the dream I had on Thursday night. The one that kept me from blogging yesterday.

In my dream all I know is that I found myself suddenly pulled from the quiet sky and into a streetscape. Everything around me was blurred except for this small bubble of space and time that I inhabited. I was on my knees on the ground, and beside me was a woman. Her confused face was tilted toward me, and I was holding her hand.

I know you are afraid, I said to her, but I am here with you. I am holding your hand and I am here with you.

Outside the bubble of peace we inhabited there was chaos. People were running. Screaming. I heard a series of bangs and the air smelled of metal and dust and something vaguely like a car’s overheated engine. Beneath my knees were pavers covered in lines. The pavers were warmed from the sun.

As I held this woman’s hand I felt a deep love for her. She was all that I could see. All that mattered to me in that moment. I felt her relax and then felt a sensation like a sigh escaping from her body.

Am I dying? she said calmly. Her mouth didn’t move. Her eyes no longer moved. I heard her voice in my head.

Yes, I answered. I knew it with all of my being. You’re gone already.

Oh, she said. I wasn’t expecting that.

I poured all of my love into her and connected her to the peace and love that was all around us.

At the edge of our bubble two women and a man appeared. I knew they were her family. There was so much love for her there in that moment.

Your people are here for you, I told her. It’s okay to go with them now.

She stood up, they embraced and then walked away without looking back. I stayed kneeling beside her body, holding her hand in mine. The bubble of peace dissolved and I was overwhelmed with emotion at the scene around me. So many more people hurt, so much emotional and physical devastation.

But before I could look around or do more I was awake, lying in my own bed.

Rufous, our young red pup, was standing over me licking my face furiously and nudging me with his body. When he saw that he had woken me he pressed his little body against me and kept licking me to reassure me. I wrapped my arms around him and he licked away my tears.

I couldn’t go back to sleep, shaken by my dream, so we went downstairs together and Rufous stayed pressed against me as I made a hot drink and then sat down to meditate and pray.

A little after dawn my husband found me. You okay? he asked, knowing that I wasn’t.

I shared my dream, and the vivid memory of the pavers on which I’d knelt.

When he showed me footage of what had transpired in Barcelona overnight I recognised the images straight away. Those same patterns on the ground matched exactly what I had just told him.

I don’t know what my night was all about. Or what really happened. But I hope that in my own way I was able to make a difference.

Whatever you do today, be kind. Live from love. Towards yourself and all people you meet. Holding you all in my meditations, prayers and with my whole heart,

Nicole  xoxo

The Non-Believer and the Desperate Hour

“Desperation can make a person do surprising things.”
~ Veronica Roth


*This post is a continuation from yesterday’s The Non-Believer and The Amazing Offer

Sunday was a rare crisis-of-faith day for me. I’d slept poorly for days, I was churned with anxiety over a job offer from my old life, and I was wondering if what I did really made a difference in the world. Even more than that, at nearing fifty years of age, I still struggle at times with having a parent who does not accept what I do as a psychic and is not proud of me, but who would be if I went back to the corporate world. (I know… but my job is always to be truthful with you, so there it is. It creates a sucking sadness in me that dulls and roars in turn, and I never quite know what might trigger it. The little girl in me still aches to please.)

Sunday is an unplugged day for me. I have a session with my Planner, I spend time with my husband, and I don’t work at all. I don’t even look at my computer, because that way I can ignore the constant stream of messages and emails, of which a handful are always urgent. If I read one, I’d have to respond. If someone needs me I can’t not.

On Sunday afternoon my phone began to ding as a series of messages came through. I glanced at the screen and saw that they were facebook messages so I ignored them. But they kept coming. I realised that someone was urgently trying to get hold of me. And something in me made me break my Sunday rule. I opened the first message, and then read them all one by one. They were all from the same person.

They were all from the business coach who’d slammed me for being a psychic earlier this year, and who’d then trash-talked me to my friend. The same coach who’d urged me to give up my psychic work and go back to the ‘respectability’ of the corporate sector.

Contact me, his message said.

After six messages, it changed to Contact me urgently.

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I knew it wouldn’t be about him reconsidering me as a potential client for his mentoring program. I knew deep in my bones that he had a problem. I could feel the desperation in those three terse words.

I texted him back. How can I help?

A series of photos followed of his tiny daughter. The coach was travelling with his wife and young family, doing public speaking engagements and such. They were away from home and his little girl was ill. Nothing specific. A fever. She was quiet. She didn’t have much appetite. She’d been listless. They’d taken her to a local hospital, and the staff there diagnosed her with a cold. They’d given her something for the fever and sent her home again.

For him to even contact me, given how rude he’d been and how clearly he’d told me he was a non-believer in all things psychic, I knew he was out of options. I was his last resort.

I skyped him.

The coach was awkward, and wouldn’t quite look me in the eye. Did I think there was something wrong with his daughter? Because both he and his wife thought there was something not quite right.

I tuned in.

What I got disturbed me. I could feel infection through her tiny body, building up into a crisis. I knew it had already affected her kidneys. I knew she was not far from going critical.

Put her in the car, I said. Take her back to the hospital, the closest one. Go now. It’s something serious. She needs urgent medical attention. It’s an infection, I said.

He hung up on me.

Forty minutes later he called again. They were at a new hospital and the staff wanted to send them home. His daughter’s fever wasn’t too high. They thought she had a cold or a little viral infection.

Did you tell them she’s had medication for the fever, I said. That’s what’s masking the true situation.

Over the next hour we talked a few more times as the doctors told the man to take his daughter home, after which he’d check in with me and then at my insistence tell them he wanted her to stay. But I could feel his resolve wavering. He was tired. He thought he was over-reacting.

In my mind’s eye I saw it. Something the little girl hadn’t had half an hour before. Show them the rash, I said.

What rash? She doesn’t have a rash! He was belligerent now. Angry with me. Angry that he’d contacted me.

Lift up her shirt, I said. She has tiny purple dots on her tummy and back. Hurry!

I didn’t hear from the coach again for hours. Not til nearly 1am on Monday morning, my time. During that time I’d held his family and his daughter in my prayers, sent her healing energy, and meditated on her soul and on her life. I felt how touch-and-go it was.

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This is what the coach told me. They admitted his sick little girl straight away, diagnosing her with meningococcal disease. They gave her life-saving drugs, but she was already in a critical condition when that happened. And it progressed quickly from there. She had now sustained kidney and liver damage, and it looked like she might lose the fingertips of two fingers, and the top joint of a toe on one foot. It might get worse, he said. He was sobbing.

She’s already turned the corner, I told him. You saved her life. I know it looks bad, but she’s going to be okay. I talked to him for over an hour, just supporting him and being there for him. By the time I got off the call I was wrung out.

I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. Instead I meditated and sent them love and healing, and prayed for them. I was grateful that the coach had honoured his own intuition in knowing that there was something wrong, and then in reaching out to me of all people.


On Monday morning I rang the guy trying to recruit me and told him a flatout no. Then Ben took me and Cafe Dog out for breakfast. I told him what had happened with the coach and his baby girl, and what the outcome was.

See, Ben said to me. What you do does matter.

And I knew Ben was right.

The corporate man will find someone else to head up his ridiculous-deadline project now that I’ve declined his offer. Some other person will flog the team senseless and create the things that I won’t do, no matter how well paid I would have been. It doesn’t matter if people like the coach lambast me and put me down. Even if later, they turn to me. There will always be people, within my family and within my community, who judge me for what I do and find me wanting. Who don’t understand me. Or who fear being judged themselves, by virtue of association with me .

I can only be who I am. Who would I be, and what message would I send if I tried to turn my back on this thing that I am? How could I ever support you, and encourage you to claim your own intuitive and psychic ability?

We were made this way for a reason.

It’s hard, sometimes, this road that I walk. But it’s worth it. Just like it will be for you too. Each of us have our own unique natures and gifts. We all matter, and we all have something to offer. All of us must strive to be true to who we came here to be. Or else, why live at all?

This Psychic Life

Image from shutterstock

Image from shutterstock

“What we do see depends mainly on what we look for. … In the same field the farmer will notice the crop, the geologists the fossils, botanists the flowers, artists the colouring, sportsmen the cover for the game. Though we may all look at the same things, it does not all follow that we should see them.”
~ John Lubbock, The Beauties of Nature and the Wonders of the World We Live in


I had a difficult night last night.

Yesterday, unexpectedly, the face of a client popped into my head. I haven’t worked with her for years, although I see her name in my facebook feed sometimes.

I didn’t think anything of it until I went to bed. I was dog-tired last night, so I did my healing meditation sitting up in bed with pillows propped behind me.

Meditation was easy, and I moved deeply into a place I sometimes go to. Perhaps because I was so tired. I’m not really sure.

Anyway, in this meditation I soon found myself looking at this woman’s face again. A terrible knowing came over me. I saw cancer, profoundly and silently ravaging her body. A cancer that can only be found too late. Because it’s too late. There is nothing now that can be done.

All this woman feels is tired, and fat. Her belly bothers her with its bloating. She’s always bone weary. Everything in life seems suddenly difficult for her, so she is also heavily into self-criticism and pushing herself harder. There is no joy in her life, such is her fatigue. There is only struggle.

I came out of meditation filled with the deepest sadness. Sadness for this woman whose life will end so much sooner than she currently knows. Sadness for the lack of love she extends to herself, and for a society that demands so much of us – that we must constantly flog ourselves because there is no time to rest and never enough money for that luxury. Sadness because I have nothing good to tell her.

I was shown this for a reason.

I’m heavy-hearted today. I know I will have to contact this woman, and find a way to tell her what I can see. I hate that I will have to do this.

I know that I have to do this.

She needs to know. She would want to know. She has been asking God and her Angels to tell her what’s wrong with her. She’s been pleading with the Universe in quiet moments.

It’s better to know than not know. We make better, truer choices in the face of such gravity. We spend time on what matters and stop worrying about the things that falsely garnered such importance prior to knowing our mortality and a deadline.

Spare a thought for this woman and her family today. Send them love and all the courage and good energy you can muster.




An Early Late Post

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“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”
~ Allen Saunders


It’s nearly 4am.

I’m about to do my regular healing meditation, and to send energy, love and light to you all.

After which I’m going back to bed.

Twice this week I’ve found myself up in the middle of the night, dealing with a life-or-death crisis.

Have you noticed? So many souls are leaving the planet right now. So many souls are struggling with the decision to stay or go. And so many souls are eager to come through and be birthed.

Crazy times.

I’ve been up working since 11.30pm, and now it is nearly 4am and I am weary and more than ready for sleep. This isn’t paid work. It’s about being here for someone who needs a loving voice at the end of a line during one of life’s challenges. It’s about being a voice for souls who are unable to speak for themselves, so that I can communicate their needs.

In my wind-down between work and meditation I’ve also been able to write my blog, and catch up with a student on the other side of the world. The wonders of technology!

I’ll share my latest adventure with you tomorrow, after I’ve had a little shut-eye. But now, meditation. Today my focus will be on helping you to be centred in clarity, calm and peace, so that you are able to make sound, intuitive choices that support and prosper you.

Blessings and love,

Nicole xx

What It Feels Like to be Hijacked By a New Story

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“Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.”
~ Franz Kafka


Last year, on one of my retreats, something very interesting happened. Just a passing thing. But it would not let me go.

I remember it so clearly. It was if God, or whoever it is up there in that unseen place, turned my head and held it gently in their hands as they directed my gaze and made all my senses hyper-acute. Look, they said. Remember.

It was a bizarre moment. Which then kept replaying in my head.

I had no idea why.

Not long after, in the middle of the night I woke up with my chest pounding. I’d just dreamed an entire scene related to that one moment now committed to the celluloid palace of my memories.

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A few nights later there was another dream. A dream seemingly unrelated but so vivid that I hurried to capture every last detail on paper the moment I woke up.

I had no idea that all of these events would end up connecting.

I had no idea that this would be the genesis of a story within me.

Meanwhile I ran another retreat. I worked on being better, and stronger, and less Lyme-y. I planned my year for 2015. A year that did not include this story.

This was to be my year for editing the three manuscripts in my bottom draw. The year for me to get my website up and flying. The year for cookbooks and spiritual handbooks and blogging.

But no.

One night, in my dream, one of my characters came and sat on my bed. Nicole, she said, you need to tell this story.

I saw how all of these dreams were interconnected. How the thread of the story braided itself together in front of me.

And just like that, it has taken over my life.

I’m still doing all of the other things in my plan. But I find myself sneaking off in any spare moment to hammer out a few more words, or to spend a little time dreaming and planning and opening myself to whatever might come next.

I feel that this story owns me, and through me it is writing itself.

That. That is what it is to be hijacked by your story.

Beautiful. Magical. Terrifying. Wild. Healing. Hopeful. Brilliant.

Even the air tastes cleaner and more whole in my lungs since I began.

I can’t do anything but submit and give myself over to the telling of it.

I’m at that place where fate and hard work collide.

My story, interrupted!


“Nourishing yourself in a way that helps you blossom in the direction you want to go is attainable, and you are worth the effort.”

~ Deborah Day

I was going to keep writing about owls and fairies and those sorts of things, but I can’t this morning.  Instead I have to go to work.

Psychic work.

Just before I woke this morning I dreamed about a client who I’ve known so long now that I consider her a dear friend.  In my dream her phone accidentally speed dialled me while I was out in the paddock on the farm.  I wasn’t far from the house so I ran back inside but the phone cut out before I could get to it.

I played the message back, and I knew my friend was out shopping and was having a heart attack without realising what was going on.

When I called her back the phone didn’t answer and I didn’t know where she was to send help.

This event hasn’t happened yet.  But it’s about to.  She’s already feeling unwell.  She has already experienced some nausea and tightness in her chest. And honestly, she’s been heading this way for years, and knows she should be doing something about it, but she always tells herself she’ll get around to it just as soon as (insert anything that is vaguely about doing things for other people or meeting work deadlines first). She’s 38. That’s so young. And all of this journey was avoidable.

So this morning I need to contact my friend.

And in the meantime I have a message for YOU.

Take care of yourself.  Parent yourself.  Do the things you know you need to do to get your health back on track. Eat a healthier diet.  Get support from health care practitioners you trust. Get your weight under control.  Reduce your stress levels.  Get more sleep.  Address the underlying emotional issues that are causing you distress.  And stop putting everyone and everything before yourself.

Life is precious.  You are precious.  So much magic awaits.  But you have to be here, and healthy, to take advantage of that.  We need you and your beautiful gifts in the world,  It’s not to late to turn this around.  Self care, self nurture, new priorities and some support.  That’s all that’s needed.  You can do this.  You need to do this.

Sending much love to you, Nicole xx

Recognise the warning signs of a heart attack