The Minister and Sister Sinner

“Ah. I smiled. I’m not really here to keep you from freaking out. I’m here to be with you while you freak out, or grieve or laugh or suffer or sing. It is a ministry of presence. It is showing up with a loving heart.” 
~ Kate Braestrup

I remember sitting in a coffee shop twelve years ago. We were regulars there, Ben and I, at a place close to our city home.

We knew everyone. One of my favourite people, let’s call him Brian (not his real name) was an elderly ex-dragqueen and retired male escort. He was HIV positive, impeccably groomed and an excellent conversationalist. (People always seem to confide their life story and innermost confidences to me, and I am glad that they feel safe to do so.) I kept an eye on Brian and often invited him to dinner or brought him a home-cooked meal. Brian kept me interesting articles from The New Yorker.

Brian had recently been deep in conversation with a younger man, a man who always seemed stressed and harried and who kept to himself. But, on this particular morning, Brian brought that man – Mark (also not his real name) – to my table and introduced him, telling me to look after him because Mark had just experienced a bad night at the deathbed of someone in his community.

We became friends that day and in the months after we often shared a table and a chat over early morning coffee. Mark was clever, funny and sharply sarcastic. Slowly I came to know what Mark did. Slowly he came to know my world too. Mark was a minister on the other side of town. He confided that to me as some kind of illicit secret some months after I first met him. He asked that I didn’t tell anyone who he was or what he did. Jokingly Mark christened me ‘Sister Sinner’ because I was a practising psychic and the Bible expressly forbids that. I explained to him that being psychic wasn’t a choice, just like being gay wasn’t a choice. We were born this way, made this way. Mark agreed.

A few years later Mark abruptly left his ministry, causing a huge scandal. I sat with him over coffee that same morning as he explained why he was leaving. He was from a religious family and he told me that he had no faith, had never had faith, didn’t believe anything he taught, didn’t believe the Bible and envied me that I had a faith at all. He’d taken the job in the church for security, a clear opportunity for advancement, and a safe place for himself as an undeclared gay man. But he hated dealing with people and he hated having to serve a congregation.

I felt so sad for him. Mark had the kind of job I’d wanted for myself when I was small. He was there for all of the important events in the lives of his parishioners. He got to give them comfort, to guide and support them, and to bring them together as a community. As a child at primary school I’d wanted to be a minister but I couldn’t, because I was a girl and also because I struggled with the teachings of the church. It didn’t fit with the feelings and knowledge that I had in my heart. I kept waiting for a better version of religion to show up, but no matter where I went I didn’t find a doctrine that fitted me. In the end, Buddhism meditation practices and my own quiet faith in something bigger than this little life we live are what serves me. I have seen too much to doubt that there is existence beyond this one, although I certainly don’t have all the answers. Which brings me back to Mark, whom I haven’t seen for ten years.

I bumped into him yesterday, in the corridor of a hospital.

He was visiting his elderly mother who is recovering from surgery. He’s back working with the church, studying and writing and following an academic path.

I was visiting a long-time client who had called me in crisis. She reached out to me for guidance about how to be with her six-year-old daughter who is dying from a brain tumour. I was up at the hospital to support this woman, her family and her daughter in these final hours.

Mark and I chatted briefly. Then he hugged me and laughed in a kindly way. ‘So, Nicole,’ he said, ‘it seems you’ve got your own flock after all, although I don’t know what qualifies you. You’re a minister without a church, without a God, without a pay packet. Meanwhile, I’ve got the gold watch, the all-expenses-paid trips to Rome, the superannuation and the bright future. I think you’ve got a bum deal. Best of luck, Sister Sinner.’

I could tell he meant it in the best possible way. I’m glad things worked out for him. I’ll keep him in my prayers and meditations.

Also, Mark, I know you’ll be reading this and I do know what qualifies me. Being human. Having empathy and kindness. Being present for others. Having a deep desire to serve. Devoting myself to this spiritual path, although it may not be one that you understand, and wanting to share this path with others so that it may bring them comfort and meaning.

There are more people on my particular path than you know. Maybe it’s a path that you would finally find meaning from too.

Much love to you, Sister Sinner xx

Things People Have Said To Me When They Found Out I Am Psychic

“To be fully seen by somebody, then, and be loved anyhow – this is a human offering that can border on miraculous.” 
~ Elizabeth Gilbert

Things people have said to me when I told them I am a psychic:

  • I don’t have a problem with it but you shouldn’t tell people or they might judge you. It’s pretty flaky to say you’re a psychic.
  • But you seem surprisingly intelligent…
  • God will smite you and your family. Repent!
  • That’s incredible. You seem so normal.
  • You can come to our barbeque on the weekend? Great. But is it okay if you don’t tell my friends what you do? Because one is a lawyer and one is a surgeon and they’re both really smart and they won’t understand someone like you. And they won’t understand why I am friends with you. Just tell them you’re a writer. Okay?
  • Did something bad happen to you as a child?
  • Can you tell me if this guy is into me or is he cheating on me?
  • What’s this rash?
  • Oh man! Don’t say that. You can’t say that. That’s so offensive. Can’t you tell people you are emotionally aware or something like that?
  • You’re kidding me, right? I thought you were normal.
  • You seem so balanced.
  • Are you bi-polar or something?
  • No-one will ever take you seriously EVER again.
  • OMG, that’s so embarrassing, Nicole. Shut up! Never speak of it again. No, I’m not kidding. Don’t ever talk to me about this again.

But there’s also been this:

  • My dog died, and he was my best friend in the world. Can you tell me if he’s okay?
  • When my nana died she came to visit me in my room. I was only five but I still remember it. No-one believed me. Do you think that was real?
  • I sometimes get these feelings about people – you know, a good feeling or a bad feeling – and it turns out to be right. Is that normal?
  • I always know when my mum is about to ring me.
  • One night I couldn’t stop thinking about my friend from high school. I hadn’t thought about her for years. The next day I heard she died in an accident that same night. I thought I could tell you that.
  • I knew I was pregnant from that very first day and I knew I would have a son. This is him. His name is Cole.
  • Whispers to me, ‘I have crystals in my bra’.
  • I think I might be psychic too. Can you help me?

If you’re psychic, intuitive, empathic or energetically sensitive I want you to know that it’s okay. You’re fine, just as you are. Be proud of who you are. There are more of us out there than you realise!
All my love, Nicole ❤ xx

Are You A Sensitive, Intuitive, Psychic or Empathic Soul? Here’s a Checklist to help you find out!

“The real warriors in this world are the ones that see the details of another’s soul. They see the transparency behind walls people put up. They stand on the battlefield of life and expose their heart’s transparency, so others can finish the day with hope. They are the sensitive souls that understand that before they could be a light they first had to feel the burn.”
~ Shannon L. Alder

As most of you know, I’m psychic. I’ve been this way to varying degrees my whole life. It’s something I tried to hide when I was younger. Something I even tried to erase. For a long time I was ashamed to be psychic. I was so worried people would find out and judge me badly.

It took a group of kind Aboriginal Elders to help me to see and accept that I was born this way, and that sensitivity is a gift in my life rather than a problem. Because of their guidance my life is infinitely richer for embracing and owning my sensitivity. These wise old women also saved my mental health by normalising my experience through their own cultural teachings.

All of us are intuitive – that’s our birthright as humans, and it’s hardwired into us. Even the most disconnected or ‘non-believing’ of us will still have gut feelings or hunches strong enough that we can acknowledge and act upon them.

But some of us have a much greater sensitivity than that.

The Checklist below lists many of the varied experiences that are common for people who are sensitive, empathic, intuitive and psychic. If you have experienced any of the following (not as a result of mental illness, or a drug or illness induced state!) then it is highly likely you are a sensitive soul too. Sensitivity is not a weakness – in fact it can be one of your greatest strengths.

How many of these have you experienced?

  • lucid dreaming
  • deja vu
  • precognitive dreams or visions
  • awareness about people, places, objects or events that has no rational cause nor explanation
  • an ability to know information about people
  • sensing the energy field around people or places, and having that affect your body or emotions
  • seeing energy, faces, or other images either in your mind’s eye or through your own eyes
  • hearing voices or knowledge not your own – either as a physical sound, or as a voice, knowing or thought that arises inside you that you somehow understand is not your own
  • having remembrance or recognition of past lives
  • walking into a room full of people and having an immediate understanding of what has happened before you entered based on the feeling or energy of the room
  • being drawn to psychic activities and tools, such as cards, books, courses, energetic healing modalities and crystals – where you feel compelled to have or work with these, even when your rational mind protests or doesn’t understand
  • sudden recognition of things previously not known to you – such as knowing the names or uses for things outside your profession or fields of study, or knowing your way around a place you have not ever visited
  • being strongly aware of when a person is hiding something or concealing their true thoughts or feelings
  • sensing, seeing or hearing Guides, Angels, those who have crossed over, and other energetic beings
  • knowing when someone is lying and knowing it with an unemotional yet deep certainty
  • connection with star people, recurring dreams about or remembered incidences of UFO or alien encounters – these are often not threatening or unpleasant
  • recurring dreams for which you have no explanation
  • strangers opening up to you and sharing their life stories or intimate details of their lives, unprompted, and with complete trust
  • a strong sense that you are here to do something, to contribute something, to help in some way – this feeling becomes stronger over time until, if you haven’t worked out what it is yet, it becomes almost a sense of despair or desperation
  • saying or writing things without knowing where the information is coming from
  • performing healing, art, writing, music and other creative acts where you suddenly ‘know’ what to do, even if you have never been shown before
  • understanding animals, children or others with no voice to communicate
  • sudden strong emotions flooding over you that are totally unrelated to what is happening right now
  • knowing who is on the phone as it begins to ring without having seen a name or identifying number
  • having insights or understanding about a person’s health or mental health that later proves to be correct
  • having a deep sense of impending doom or distress hours or days before a dramatic world event

I’m sure there’s more that I could add to that list, but that’s a start…

Tomorrow I’ll share some tips for how to support yourself better if you identify as sensitive. It’s a normal, natural and beautiful thing, and your energies and abilities are very much needed in the world. Remember that!
Much love, Nicole ❤ xx

The Best Blog Was The One I Didn’t Write!

“Have you ever seen the dawn? Not a dawn groggy with lack of sleep or hectic with mindless obligations and you about to rush off on an early adventure or business, but full of deep silence and absolute clarity of perception? A dawning which you truly observe, degree by degree. It is the most amazing moment of birth. And more than anything it can spur you to action. Have a burning day.” 
Vera Nazarian


I had a rough day yesterday, and then a rough night. In this week’s intensely intuitive energies some of my clients and students are struggling with the realisation that their lives that are far from alignment with their inner selves, or they have become overwhelmed with the weight of humanity’s problems. And there has been an influx of suicidal feelings for some, or for members of their family. So this week my phone has rung off the hook, my inboxes are jammed and the calls just keep coming. Since my fiftieth birthday in September I now feel every single emotion other people are holding within them as viscerally as if those emotions were mine. As you might imagine I went to bed totally drained, and woke the same, despite my regular meditation.

I had intended to blog, but nothing would come. So I walked.

In the murky twilight I threw a warm jacket over my pyjamas and put my feet into gumboots and I walked outside and into the paddocks.

The tawny frogmouth owls were singing to their chicks while feeding them an early breakfast. A powerful owl sat in the teak tree, feasting on the remains of a possum. Koalas grunted to each other in the trees, and the boughs above our house shook and danced as a group of possums jumped down and then ran across the roof of our tiny cottage, moving towards our shed where they will sleep throughout the day.

The air was alive with the sound of insects and birdsong as the sun slowly rose behind the hills, ready to illuminate the day.

As I walked further I saw one of our older cows lying down in the field. She was in an unnatural position, so I hurried over to check on her welfare, just as she finished pushing out a newborn calf. I stood quietly by while she broke open the sac and cleaned off the tiny animal, licking it until it began to push up on its brand new twiggy legs. Soon it was standing for the first time.

The cow and I both stood quietly together, catching our breath, and the newborn calf wobbled over to mum, found a teat and began to drink. Suddenly my world was calm and beautiful and milk-sweet.

Some ‘alone time’ in nature is always good medicine for me, and if you’re feeling things intensely this week I suggest it will be good medicine for you as well. Then perhaps some journalling and the pulling of a few cards so that you can explore your feelings and find pathways that give you choices, understanding and a way forward. Of course I also recommend a good cup of tea with that too!

Sending so much love your way, Nicole  xoxo


The Gift of a Quiet House, Away from People

“Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven’t the answer to a question you’ve been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you’re alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully.” 
~  Norton Juster


I’ve been struggling since my fiftieth birthday, trying to navigate the last of my psychic gifts. I’d known they were coming, but didn’t know what form they’d take. It sounds like it should be fun, doesn’t it? But it never is. It’s a shock to the system, which then requires major readjustment.

On my thirtieth birthday I woke to find I could see auras around people. I couldn’t turn it off, and it has never left me. It was just something I needed to learn to live with. On my fortieth birthday I suddenly saw auras and energy around animals, plants and places. How could I walk on the grass, or pluck an apple from the tree? It confounded and disturbed me for months. Until I became used to it.

These last gifts? There are several but one has been more unsettling than the others. When I touch someone, or stand near them and tune in, I can feel all of the emotions and energies within their body. All of that messiness and complexity – the conscious and the subconscious and the deeply buried – it all courses through me until I can scarcely breathe.

It happens when I put my hand on my dogs too. Or on a tree or a stone. But those experiences are different. Those energies calm and soothe me.

The mala for my Temple of Light Retreat. Each different bead represents one of the students on the course, or of others I am working with in meditation.

I am home at my farm again after a week of being in the city. I’m so grateful for the geographic isolation of our home here. I can’t feel our neighbours or their energy unless I consciously tune in. There’s no steady stream of feelings and images the way there has been in the city, where people are crowded all around us. Instead I have silence and peace.

What a relief after the onslaught, especially of the recent deep connections I have had with my aging mother-in-law who is in the early stages of dementia, complete with paranoia and confusion.

Last night I stayed up to meditate after Ben and the dogs turned in for the night. As they fell asleep I felt them withdraw their energy, and the house became still and quiet and clear. I sat down and lit a candle, prayed for the world and then meditated with my October crystals and my mala beads for the students on the two retreats I ran earlier this year. In the quiet space magic happened. I could hold each mala bead between my fingers and tune in to my students effortlessly. In the quiet I could feel my mind and thoughts stretch out in ripples from me. I could hear the earth breathing, and the animals sleeping, and the owls and frogs and night creatures conversing with one another. I went to bed calm and reassured. I understood that eventually I’ll adjust to these new abilities too.

When I woke this morning at 4am I returned to meditation. And when I was done I enjoyed the quiet a little longer before my husband and the dogs began to stir.

There is something restorative about a quiet evening house or early morning meditation space. Perhaps you aren’t on the same path I’m on, navigating new psychic abilities without an instruction book, but I am sure that having a little time to yourself in solitude at the close or opening of day will serve you well.

Sending so much love your way, Nicole  xoxo

PS – Want to learn to meditate and work with crystals, to make your own mala beads and to develop a strong spiritual practice for your own development? We still have a few places left on our final residential retreat for this year – Working With Crystals. You can be a complete beginner or more advanced in your abilities and practices, and this course will still suit you. Click on the link here to find out more.

Stars over Byron Bay by Dylan O’Donnell

Letting Myself Cry…

“The cure for anything is salt water. Sweat, tears, or the ocean.”
~ Isak Dinesen


It’s been building up for a while.

I do my best to manage it. I meditate twice daily. I ground myself. I sit in awareness and go gently when I need to.

But it’s never enough…


All the things I feel.

All the things I know.

All the things I see.

All the things I feel you hiding.

All the pain I feel inside you.

All the things of yours that I feel in me as I connect with you, hug you, work with you. Recent things, old things, things from childhood. Things sometimes from before even that.

All the injustices and terrible things that I see in the world or in some of my work where I must live with that knowledge, and the fact that I can’t change it.

All the times I can’t keep someone safe.

All the times my dreams become a continuation of the truth and suffering of others so that I might take some of that burden from you, or so that I can share that information with those who are empowered to act.

All the weight of all the things and all the feels and all that raw life.


Sometimes I find myself moving more and more slowly. Getting heavier and heavier in my body and my spirit. It comes upon me and I know that I can only hold it back for so long.

It always ends in tears.

But, after I have cried I feel better. Then I will take a walk, and then a swim in the ocean or a long shower.

Things go back to manageable again. The weight is lifted from me.

I have learned that it is okay to cry. In fact, sometimes it’s the only thing that truly helps.

How about you? What do you do to manage the weight of the world?

I am refreshed this morning, and sending so much love to you as I sit in meditation,

Nicole <3 xoxo



Acceptance – A Short Documentary about Owning Who You Are


“The things that make me different are the things that make me.”  ~ A.A. Milne

“You are always welcome at my table.” ~ Nicole Cody


Last year I invited my friend Kerry Warnholtz to come spend some time with me as I prepared for and then ran my Chakra Wisdoms retreat.

Kerry is a talented photographer and videographer who sees the world through soulful and ever-watchful eyes. I hoped that she might be able to capture some footage and a few stills for my new website. My brief to her was that I wanted her to somehow show the love and care I put into each event that I run, and how precious each of my students is to me – how much I take that teaching and mentoring responsibility into my heart.

Kerry didn’t just capture that – she captured me – a little snapshot into my life, and the struggles I have had in coming to a place of self-acceptance. This short film speaks a lot to my WHY – why I do what I do – and I thought many of you might relate to the struggles I had in my earlier life to accept myself as I am.

What I want you to know, more than anything, is that I believe in you and that I want you to be who you are and be true to yourself. Being you is the most important thing you can do, and it’s time. The world needs us to stop pretending to be who we are not or to represent ourselves in the world as less than we are. It’s time to embrace ourselves and each other in all of our glorious diversity and similarity.

So, watch this little documentary. Come meet me at my farm, and in my life, and know that you are always welcome at my table.

You are among friends here.

Thanks for sharing the journey with me,

Nicole <3 xx


PS – If you want to see more of Kerry’s wonderful work you can find her at

Sitting with the Big Questions

“I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.”
~ Hermann Hesse


I still can’t see.

I still can’t see except for a brief window each morning before exhaustion and overwhelm kick in. In that brief window my left eye has reasonable vision. I can read large text and navigate the world around me more easily. I can write. I can feel briefly safe and more normal. By lunch-time clarity is melting away. By nightfall everything is a blur.

I’ve always believed that there is something to be learned or understood from every experience, if only I am brave enough to ask the big questions. If only I am brave enough to sit open and unknowing – waiting for whatever insights and answers may come.

For days now I have been asking myself ‘What am I not seeing?’ It seemed a sensible question, given my current circumstances.

I’ve had some major realisations around access and disability and what matters in life. I’ve thought deeply about helplessness and dependence and my difficulty with asking for help. I’ve sat with the truths of my need to serve, and my fear of not making a difference. Of my old childhood anxiety around feeling like a freak and never fitting in. Of not being loved if people knew my truth – if they truly ‘saw’ me. Of the pain of ‘not being seen’ by those I love.

I’ve owned the need for self first, of slowing down, of finding grace in impossible situations, of enlightenment through suffering. I’ve watched from outside myself as a part of me has danced with a range of emotions.

And I kept asking myself – What am I not seeing?

What am I not seeing?

Eventually the words themselves became a noose that drew tighter and tighter. I’d stripped myself bare. There seemed nothing more to find. My world grew smaller and darker, my depression and frustration more profound.

I tried to sit in that place of darkness and stuckness. I hoped that by sitting there some great breakthough would come.



Suddenly it came to me, and the realisation was so powerful that waves of relief flooded my body. I am psychic after all. I live between worlds. I have always seen what others cannot.

All this question of ‘What am I not seeing?’ was doing was keeping me stuck in my head. In my rational self. A useful place to be in small doses, but the one perspective I will ever find there will be my own.

‘Not seeing’ ultimately gave only limited answers. It closed me down.

But now I Knew I had the key within me to bring light back into this dark space.

I reframed my question.

What can I see?

The boundaries of my tiny existence exploded. I moved from my head to my soul.

Everything changed.

I still might not be able to see with my eyes, but I can see so much more clearly from this new perspective, and I know there is much here to learn and explore.

How about you? What can you see?

Sit with it for a while. I think you’ll be glad that you did.

Please know that you’re in my thoughts, prayers and daily meditations.

All my love, Nicole <3 xx


Batman Or Iron Man? Which one are you?

Image from

Image from

“There are two types of people on planet Earth, Batman and Iron Man. Batman has a secret identity, right? So Bruce Wayne has to walk around every second of every day knowing that if somebody finds out his secret, his family is dead, his friends are dead, everyone he loves gets tortured to death by costumed supervillains. And he has to live with the weight of that secret every day. But not Tony Stark, he’s open about who he is. He tells the world he’s Iron Man, he doesn’t give a shit. He doesn’t have that shadow hanging over him, he doesn’t have to spend energy building up those walls of lies around himself. You’re one or the other – either you’re one of those people who has to hide your real self because it would ruin you if it came out, or you’re not one of those people. And the two groups aren’t even living in the same universe.” ~ David Wong


When I first read this quote I had one of those aha moments. The words resonated for me because, you see, I’ve been both.

Until my early thirties I lived like Batman. My great secret was that I am psychic. I have been since I was a child.

I remember so clearly the afternoon my best friend at high school passed judgement on an advertisement in a women’s magazine, showing a stereotypical psychic in a purple robe and turban with her hands suspended over a crystal ball. “It’s such a scam,” said  my friend. “Psychics are all bullshit. They just exploit stupid people and the vulnerable.”

My other friends all nodded their heads in agreement. There was something contemptuous about both the people claiming to be psychic, and those people dumb enough or desperate enough to use their services. Lotto numbers. Soul Mates. Fortune Telling… Intelligent people made their own way in the world, did their own research, and chose trusted professionals to be their life advisors. Not women with exotic names who wore jewelled turbans and touted lucky numbers. Here I was, a well-educated young woman at an academic school, intending to go on to university studies. How could I claim to be like the crystal-waving freak?

Bruce Wayne hiding his true identity as Batman - image from

Bruce Wayne hiding his true identity as Batman – image from

I was so worried about being found out. About ending up an outcast. All I could think to do was withdraw further so that no-one would even suspect this thing in me, engage with people in a way that was all about them and never about me, and stay under the radar until this phase in my life had well and truly passed.

For years I was ashamed to be me. I hid my abilities and true nature, except where I knew it was safe to share the truth of my life.

What an exhausting and miserable way to live. Always in constant fear of being discovered, judged and ostracised. Of no longer being taken seriously.

Eventually illness stripped so much of my old self away that all that remained was my intuitive and psychic ability. The Universe certainly had the last laugh. The thing I fought so hard to hide was the only thing left that I could do.

That was when I decided that it was better to live like Iron Man – Tony Stark. To openly declare who and what I am, and to support others to be who they are too. Psychics aren’t freaks, but normal people with a particularly well-honed sense that is available to us all.

Tony Stark lives openly as Iron Man - image from

Tony Stark lives openly as Iron Man – image from

My life and my work is now an open book. I share it all – the good, the bad and the ugly. It’s liberating. There’s no more stress. And in giving myself permission to live honestly as who I am, I help others to do that too. I surround myself with people who accept me for who I am, and I don’t care any more if you don’t like me, respect me or appreciate me or my gifts. I just won’t hang out with you, and I no longer put myself into situations or relationships where it is necessary to hide my truth or where you’ll put me down. Goodness, what a relief!

How about you? Are you Batman or Iron Man?

I know which one works better for me.


The Strange Dream With The Even Stranger Twist

“Tis strange, – but true; for truth is always strange;
Stranger than fiction: if it could be told,
How much would novels gain by the exchange!
How differently the world would men behold!”
~ George Gordon Byron, Don Juan


*Please note that I have changed the names below to protect the privacy of those involved.

I dreamt the oddest dream the other night. It was one of those dreams so rich in detail – the sounds, the smells, the textures and emotions – that it might have been real. Me, transposed into some other reality through the mechanism of my dream.

I sat beside Ben in a big white American-style utility. We were in heavy traffic in an unfamiliar city, my husband behind the wheel and me looking all around at the buildings and the many lanes that were converging on a five-ways. As we began to merge I saw a vehicle towing a closed in trailer cut across the lanes to reach an exit on the other side of the road. A semi was bearing down upon them. I knew there wasn’t enough time. The truck hit the car and trailer, pushing them along and into other traffic.

Ben began to take evasive action as time slowed down. I was aware of every detail. There seemed an abundance of time and yet so little to be done. The crunching, grinding sound was sickening. I was sure that we would become part of the unfolding accident. Sure we would be badly injured or killed. My heart raced at the truly chaotic and terrifying scene.

Suddenly it was over. Our car was safely stopped. The truck and other cars were stopped. Debris was everywhere. People came running from all directions. I flung open my door, assaulted by the smell of burning brakes, rubber, metal and fuel. On the asphalt ahead of us was a small boy. His shirt and jacket were shredded, and he had an open wound in his chest. He was crying out for his mother, over and over. Mum, mum, mum.

I dropped down beside him, picked him up and cradled him in my arms, frantically looking around for some help. His blood was soaking my shirt. I pressed my fingers into the wound, trying to staunch the flow, and the boy looked up at me.

‘Am I dying?’ he asked. ‘It hurts.’

His voice didn’t sound like a child’s. He spoke with the voice of a man.

I somehow knew the truth, that yes, he was dying. I nodded yes.

‘I’m frightened,’ he said. He started to cry. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have taken my bike out today.’

I’m still dreaming, I thought to myself. I’m not really here.

Image from

Image from

Beyond us I saw a badly damaged motorbike on the ground. I looked down again and it was no longer a little boy, but a man whose head and chest were on my lap as I cradled him in my arms.

‘Mum,’ the man said. He squeezed my hand hard. ‘Thanks for coming. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve screwed everything up.’

‘I’m not your mother,’ I managed to say.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘My mother is already passed. My name is Andy. Andy Little.’ Bubbles of blood were coming out of his mouth.

I held Andy’s hand and stroked his hair. I whispered to him to not be afraid. That it would all be okay.

A woman in white walked towards us through the smoke and debris. ‘I’ll take him now,’ she said. I looked down and Andy’s eyes had glazed. The woman was gone. Andy was dead.

I woke up crying.

The dream stayed with me, and I couldn’t let it go. It affected me so strongly that I vomited. My head ached all day and I felt exhausted and disoriented. I offered up prayers for Andy, and held space for him in my meditations.

Finally, days later, I decided to google the name. Andy Little had been killed in a multiple vehicle accident at around the time of my dream, in a city on the other side of the world. He had been riding a motorbike. His photo matched the face of the man from my dream.

He had no next of kin.

I still feel so sad. I can’t explain it. Was it a dream? Was I there? What does it all mean? I do know that Andy is with his mum now, and for him, everything will be okay.

This life of mine is so strange at times. I hope that in some way, energetically, I was there and was able to offer Andy comfort as he passed. To think that gives me a measure of comfort too.

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