CHAPTER ONE
INTRODUCTION
I met Marion a few years ago during a visit to the hair dresser/nail salon. she worked on my nails.
Don`t ask me how I know but, when I saw her, I somehow felt a presence next to her, someone there to guide her, a guardian angel of sort, I reflected…
I also somehow could sense that she would have legions of fans in her near FUTURE (Marion is a singer now).
I told her, while she beautified my hands, about spontaneous writing. I could sense that she too had the « gift ».
That same night, for the first time, she had a direct conversation with departed family relatives.
Since that day, she is my « COCOTTE D’AMOUR ».
Later, thanks to her, I got to meet with Marjolaine Caron, a well-established medium. http://www.marjolainecaron.com/ .
That moment was truly a revelation for me. Finally, I realised I wasn’t the only one with the gift, someone else had lived with it and furthermore wrote about it in black on white.
It was here and now, not faith memory from a long-gone era like Allan Kardec’s legacy but my very own lifetime right here in Québec.
So that very night, after years of marriage, I decided to confide in my life partner about my past and my gift and told him that, in reality…
« My love, I must tell you that your real name is in fact Darrin and mine Samantha...
you are bewitched! ».
I can’t remember if I laughed or cried that night but…
MANY YEARS LATER HE STILL LOVES ME LIKE THE FIRST DAY AND WE ARE STILL HAPPILLY MARIED!
Then, suddenly, my life took a turn for the worse. First it was Roxane, my son’s grandmother who died without warning, then my dad after a long period of agony. Then two uncles and two aunts…
Apparently, the funeral parlour had offered rebate coupons to my family that year…
It felt like we were always there eating those horrible...
RECTANGULAR SANDWICHES WITHOUT CRUST!
Emotionally drained by this uninterrupted swirl of heart drenching events, I eventually started to doubt…
What if all of it was just in my head? Just my subconscious going in overdrive as to compensate for all the pain in my life?
Well that was indeed the feeling I got from my cerebral “Stephen” … HE certainly did not look like he believed in my nose-twitching abilities…
Therefore, as he was to me the brightest person I knew (after all, he already owns a collection of diplomas we hang on the wall than would make anyone jealous and yet he continues to perfect his knowledge by pursuing his accumulation of diplomas, either by deep conviction or maybe is it just an insatiable curiosity?
(After all, I didn’t know that Einstein guy personally... or did I? ... Well it just so happened that the angels recently informed us that one of my family member had been Einstein in a previous life…).
What if he was right and I was wrong? Surely with his beautiful mind he must know better? I was wondering then if it was him who was going to be right?
SO there and then,
I decided to test those so called “spirits”. I wrote with my eyes closed, then with my left hand, then without thinking at all.
In short, anything to test them and force them to reveal themselves to me somehow…
CHALLENGE!
(VERY SERIOUS WARNING! Do not play with this kids! Chances are that you will encounter evil spirits, it is VERY DANGEROUS FOR YOUR SOUL! LEAVE IT TO THE INITIATED!).
To a point that I even got scared that they would refuse to speak to me suddenly as to punish my sudden lack of faith. after all, they were now in a position to pass judgement on me now?
well, what I dreaded did happen.
So, one day, abruptly and without warning they just stopped. So, after a few unsuccessful attempts I sadly reached the conclusion that I had crossed the divine line...
I had played with fire and got burned!
At first, it was as if your pen just stopped working…
You shake it, blow on it...
Then one day, I just stopped to care. I had realized that I would have to live without and go on with my life.
That is all I have to say about that...
(But later dammit, I would eventually work nail and tooth to regain my GIFT, whatever the cost…!).
Yet, after what seemed like an eternity, they finally found a way to communicate with me nevertheless!
When we say: “when one door closes, another one opens up…”.
Well they later unleashed the elements, released a storm my way was probably more like it…
I therefore started the healing process with help from the angels. At the beginning it was sort of seamless. First it started with my friend Marie-France who worked at Marion’s hair salon. I liked her at first for her ease (with her scissors and brushes) AT EFFORTLESSLY removing, if ever so briefly, the traces of past struggles and STRAINS from your face by using the seasonal hues to enhance your delighfulness...
... Then for her innate talents to tame and entertain my untameable “DOGUS-PARTUS’* and WAZO the bird in our house during our summer holidays.
(*TOBY, our beloved BEAGLE at the time was the worst bad-tempered little bugger we ever had, Alcoholic on top of it and from day one when we caught him with the glass of cognac that my husband had just poured himself and his Camel cigarette in his mouth - yes my husband used to smoke… I said brilliant, not clever). This dog was going to be something else indeed!).
(On top of it, her presence was useful to make sure our multitude of plants did not die while we were away… and I’ve been told insurance companies prefer that the house is not left unattended for long periods of time!).
Moreover, two years ago, she introduced me to a brilliant medium named Vladimir who happened to be living in the next town over.
Luckily, I kept the recording from that first meeting on my htc panache mobile phone with assorted pink cover which loved so dearly because at that time I was sort of not fully there…
That particular day, I was also quite worried for my son, as mother do… as I felt he appeared particularly sad then.
Therefore, my only concern at the time was to somehow have my spiritual mentor open the door a better and more colorful future for my son as if he had a spiritual gift to chase bad omens from his life, even if it was only for a few months...
... When I told YOU, my mind was a bit mixed up at the time I meant it!
Let’s just say, I didn’t understand ANYTHING HE SAID at the time. While he continued to explain I don’t know what (with his somewhat enticing Cuban accent) going on and on about his never ending exposé… All I could do is look at him with empty eyes even though I didn’t use illicit substances anymore and did not drink any alcohol, I just felt like I was sort of floating somewhere in the room because what he told me was too heavy for me to assimilate.
At the time, I would have really liked to be able to confide in someone. A priest possibly. Then again, it depends on the priest. The one from my youth. Yeah, he would do. This one, I sort of liked him a lot. And that was way before the Thorn birds appeared on the small screen with the gorgeous Richard Chamberlain (for my brother it was the beautiful Maggie…).
what he told me then was SIMPLE: i was a gifted medium, “the medium” and my son was
one too but he could also cure illnesses, nothing less!
At first I thought he was crazy. but when he started talking about events from my past that he could not know and my future
(several of those “revelations” about my future have since happened and therefore a verifiable), described my house in details and talked about my family members, well I kind of sobered up very rapidly.
Let’s just say
I was way more receptive after that…
He then proceeded by giving me tricks and recipes to heiten my talents such as spraying myself with BASILIC and LAVENDER essences.
he also showed me how to maximize my house’s aura by placing some stones in specific areas of the house and some salt in various places in order to attract the good spirits and to protect my house in order to maximize my chances of recovering my LONG-LOST talents once more…
He added: « by maximizing and using your talents of missionary medium, you will not only help others but in the same token will reduce at the same time… your own suffering!
He then confided in me that if he stopped using his gift, his LONG-AFFLICTED asthma would immediately come back…
And yet, we were still far away from the start of the beginning of my healing with the angels for now as for now I’m still buggered. But no one knows, I was good at hiding it… you know, child star and all.
A few years later, when we vacationed in Ireland, it ended up being a little female dog that Marion had to take good care of as our Toby had just passed away (Sniff!).
She came into our life out of the blue really, one day when we were just driving around enjoying a crisp sunny autumn day. Earlier, we wondered if we had sufficiently mourned our dearly departed Toby, we eventually detoured to the RSPCA as if we were possessed by an uncontrollable desire to quickly get there.
My defender of the four-legged ones had even made his mind about which type of dog he wanted. Then…
Bingo!
1st dog,
1st cage!
There she was. It was as if she had cast a spell of some description to attract us directly to her. She was waiting patiently with her big puppy eyes, in the very first cage we saw.
We were subjugated. We had to have that one! Furthermore, connoisseur’s CELLAR would be saved as she didn’t fancy wine!
So, days later, after she’s been neutered, my son and I went to pick her up. She was still totally « stoned » from the surgery. She thought we were only there to take her for a quick walk so she could relieve herself because…
“Hey, wait! I’m done, take me back!”
SHE seemed to beg us…
I couldn’t get her to move a bit. My son ended up having to pick her up as there was no way she was going to walk to our car herself. Once on our way home, I quickly figured out that a doggy seat belt would be a necessity in the future as she blithely swayed all over the place on our way back to the south shore where her new dog house awaited her. There, as if the trip depleted all her energy, she crashed in her new favourite spot and slept like a puppy the whole day (I purposely say like a puppy and not a “baby”. I never understood that stupid expression as every new parent knows that new babies never ever sleep! Sorry future parents, the secret is out!).
The next day, after a well needed bath, it seemed to trike her that she had finally found a family she could adopt. Tons of wet kisses quickly followed suit as to confirm her approval.
A few years back, on the way to Ireland, in the plane taking us there, my legs decided to swell up like blimps and as a result I ended up at the Irish emergency.
Later during the trip, we decided to go to an Italian RESTAURANT. while waiting in line, I met a young girl from Vancouver on her wait out. She was with her dad.
I smiled complicity to her as it just so happened that we both had the same raincoat (more specifically I had just bought that same raincoat for my future daughter to be). Hers was probably the real deal while mine was a fake…
Anyways, as I didn’t want the same ordeal to happen again on this year’s trip to PARIS, I had custom made socks specially designed for my legs in order to avoid a trip to the french emergency this time…
But, because there is always a but, an old war INJURY FROM a previous accident, a head on collision just two days before my 18th birthday…
(broken leg, head trauma, broken bones and so on…).
[Let’s just say that on my 18th birthday, I didn’t celebrate with champagne like everyone else but with copious amounts of morphine (courtesy of the government on top of it!) to mark my arrival in the adult world (was it an omen of things to come?).
Worse still, I can still remember the terrible BAD TRIP I had… and they I didn’t even have to provide my i.d. to get it!
Only this time, I was traveling to Paris! I didn’t have time to be in pain, the plane was already boarding gate! Therefore, in order to manage the pain, I had a specialist inject me with some “magic” stuff which costs a fortune and promises the moon!
Unfortunately, with me, don’t ask me why but nothing seems to work as promised (it however makes for interesting stories to tell i guess…)
I always told, to whoever wanted to listen, that if I ever wrote the story of my life…
well, you would find it in the SCIENCE-FICTION section...
Well right there in front of my eyes, my knee started to swell up, what am I saying, blow up would probably a more accurate description! You can kiss goodbye the custom-made constriction socks because there is no way in hell it will ever fit now!
It took two people to try to put them on (my husband and my travel friend Marie tried [that same girl who was walking my dogs]). They eventually sort of succeeded… but the pain!
And furthermore, it kept on inflating during the flight so it had reached a point where the pain was excruciating so I (we) had no choice but to take them off (we actually had to cut them off actually) a sort of emergency caesarean…
Oh hell no! ouch! the unbearable pain! I never should have taken them off! Heck, I never should have put them on in the first place!
So, inevitably, in Paris, I suffered more than my share for the entire trip!
Did they try to fit as many small streets as they could or what! I had no choice, if I wanted to see any of it, I had to walk! I had to get a cane though…
So let’s Go cane, do your job and show us the City of Lights!
Well guess what? That damn cane decided it wasn’t gonna cooperate either!
We have never ever been on so many taxi rides in our life! mille MERCI to the most loving and understanding husband ever!...
Oh you would think it would be easier on the way back? Forget the socks and welcome more pain!
And that is despite the fact that my loving husband took pity on me and bought me a “PREMIÈRE CLASSE” ticket on AIR TRANSAT... (a local no frills airline… then again, those who know the airline might be inclined to pity me but nevertheless…
On top of it, guess what? I have a fat ass so first class is definitely roomier for that part of the anatomy for sure!
The only part of it which turned out to be positive (as if someone had pity on me, just so I could forget my pain, even if it was only for a brief moment). I therefore had the amazing luck to meet one of Québec’s most gifted singer the gorgeous (some people are really blessed) Isabelle Boulay.
Since I had never met her in person, my most chivalrous husband (I suspect he went out of his way to help her because he has a real penchant for redheads then to give me, a dying fan, a chance to meet my idol but hey it’s the result that counts I say…).
So, my hero went out of his way to help carry her numerous pieces of luggage to up the stairs.
“Non merci, I must have been a donkey in my previous life I reckon!” she replied to him with her gorgeous suave voice. Even I was about to succumb to her charm.
But she is so sweet and kind that you can’t help but love her.
I would have liked to tell her how many paintings i have made listening to her music in a loop, to inspire me.
Even at work, when I was a graphic designer, I used to gather all her music (we only had CD’s at that time) every time I was starting to work on a long-lasting project, I invariably had at least a couple of her CDs’ in the pile.
So, there was my big chance to make a positive impression with her (who know, maybe I’ll impress her so much that she might ask me to design her next CD cover? Fat chance. All I managed to mutter in this apotheotic moment was to tell her, when we landed, that she somehow looked fresh as a daisy...
(Surely, she must be using that miracle shampoo Herbal Essence just like Nicole Scherzinger in her airplane commercial…).
And yet it was absolutely true!
it was like none of her hair had moved, that despite the fact that there had been young babies who cried virtually the whole trip…
definitely not fair…
---
Now that I came out of another hospital stay a few day ago, I told my son that I was full of ideas which had to come out! I felt like a bottle of champagne ready to expel it content...
Mom will write a book now! No, a play, with songs! Last night I even dreamt that I was writing the lyrics and Claude Dubois wrote the score... Nice!
It was the day before the sword ceremoniously uncorked the champagne bottle! So do not worry if mom yells a bit, little one. Right now, the ideas have to come out and I am in too much pain to put it onto paper so I will record myself…
I must admit that I am somehow surprised by how well my ideas are coming out until now. After all, I did a fair bit of improv and theater when I was younger, so it must be like biking I assume…
“Watch out not to fall mom!”
Well, maybe not, let’s be honest here! I most definitely didn’t deserve an Oscar, but I was at least prolific, whatever it was, it had to get out, as if to extirpate all my demons, right there, right now. All I had to do was to expel everything, whatever the order it came out; bit of songs, poems, a play, a book, whatever it was, it had to come out, no matter the cost. I felt compelled to write, as if inhabited by a force which somehow possessed by a force which was guiding me throughout the entire process.
Well, I ended up writing a play… After all, my first love was the theater.
The hardest was to write the 1st word! After all, the whole thing has been germinating in my head forever. All I had to do was to transfer it to paper. It felt like it took forever but when the first word was birthed, the rest somehow poured out with ease! ‘’POW’’ the cork had finally exploded!
(I was sick in bed at that time. lucky the cork exploding was a metaphor, IMAGINE the mess! I wasn’t in a state to clean all this!).
Well, now that I am in motion, when I am done, who will I send it to?
Oprah?
As if the was a chance in hell that she would end up receiving my manuscript, yet alone, get to read it with her schedule?
So, when she spoke about suicide this week on her radio talk show, I was helpless laying in my bed, emptied of all my energy…
That same morning, I wrote a poem:
I would have loved to read it to her that day, over the phone. I taught then that I could have made for an entertaining show! But I was so weak that ma voice was but a week murmur…
WHO DO I SEND IT TO?
Who would I see as the husband in my play? I think the now TV star Fabien Dupuis would be the perfect choice as he is also a long-time friend in real life.
One of those friends you befriend naturally as if you knew him in a previous life, a friend who always seems to say the things you need to hear somehow, someone that warms up your heart each time you see him (which now includes celebrity magazines covers), or hear from them.
Yet, I have no clue why but “Faby” is the only good-looking guy I’ve ever known which I never felt compelled to tear off his clothes!
Not that he isn’t attractive, “au contraire”, but I guess our friendship goes back to the time when I had pigtails, and in those days well… I wasn’t yet thinking about... well you know!
I will most definitely send him a signed copy. Hell, better yet, I’ll take him out to dinner and deliver it personally while at it! Even though I’m always in hospitals it seems, I can be a respectable if I may say so (thanks to the fact that I now have a weekly visit from a cleaning fairy).
The added bonus with him being a local celebrity now (and a “Facebabybook” friend is that I can effortlessly keep up with him and his growing family (thus I got to see pictures of his gorgeous new daughter that way, on one of my regular hospital tours. The perfect mix of the best from mom and dad.
She looked even better with the “Baby Gap” style overalls she was wearing. So, I just couldn’t resist shopping for a magazine worthy outfit for the little princess!
that night, Fabien invited me to his play (great way to catch-up), I decided to go to a highly recommended kids clothes boutique. ME!
SHOPPING for girls clothes! Let’s just say that, when I came out, the little girl had just about everything! Was I compensating (unconsciously of course) for the little girl I could never have?
I had it all! From headband to socks, all accessorized! And all in pink of course! It’s Mr. visa who will be happy (unlike my generous and selfless husband who, somehow didn’t seem to fully share my enthusiasm somehow…).
I met him backstage after his rather brilliant performance of his one-man theater masterpiece called ISABELLE (another perk!) when Fabien asked me why I showered his daughter with such generosity.
I replied, to entertain the audience, that “my husband is rich!” to somehow make him feel less bad that I spent so much money for his daughter.
But the real truth was that I wasn’t really feeling well inside, moreover at the time, because someone convinced me that a new miracle elixir, a revolutionary product made of drinkable collagen was somehow going to help me where medication failed.
So, I foolishly reduced my intake of medication in favour of my new miracle cure.
So convinced of its effectiveness that, one day where I didn’t need the help of my pliers to reach my perineum, I was so impressed that I announced it with great pride on my “Facededumbass”! Oh, and my specialist too!
I somehow believed that my pain had recently diminished recently, not because of the dozens of Botox injections to my lower back, not to forget, directly in my spine as well, but foolishly I was adamant that it was that ridiculously priced cactus cola.
After all, if it was that expensive, it had to be good, no?
What biased my perception as well was also the fact that coincidentally, I had just also purchased a very expensive but rather efficient miracle cream which provided immediate face lifts (which surprisingly it actually did!).
In a nutshell, that day,
I thought I looked somewhat good, for the first time in years when I was on my way to see Faby’s play, and utterly happy to see him again after so many years.
But my God Nat, he won’t ever recognize you, poor girl! I’ve seen him in the medias so I know what he looks like my little Faby but you Nat, you’ve become so fat, bloated everywhere from the tons of medication that you have to swallow day in day out, morning, lunch and dinner!
Poor girl!
I was telling him in my head, as if I could somehow cast a spell on him, hypnotize him: look at my face my friend, look inside my soul, it hasn’t changed?
To be honest, and I promised myself I would be, none of my friends have had baby girls so I never got to buy pink clothes and pink is my colour now…
To tell you the truth Mr. Dupuis, the clothes are to thank you.
Since I never really look at the tv, I have been reading magazines lately since I have been suffering from constipation due to my medication, therefore, I read while sitting so I keep up with the latest gossip that way.
What a fantastic show!
I drank your words from start to finish.
You were talking my language, the one we spoke when we were studying theater when we were just kids.
And in the end, everyone weeps…!
It reminded me at that moment, of an episode form my past for which I am far from proud. Ashamed is more like it. I once had the honour of meeting with a huge local legend called Ginette Reno, in my book, Québec’s greatest voice (sorry Céline, I love you too, let’s say you are a close second alright?).
I love Ginette since I was a kid. Céline wasn’t discovered then, I think.
I met Ginette in a restaurant not too long ago.
We were at a buffet restaurant somewhere and, oh my G., it’s Gineeeeeeettte and she is sitting to the table right next to be. I love her since I was listening to her on 8-track tape for crying out loud! How could I be so disrespectful!
I was far bigger than she was dammit! That day, rumour was, when I was getting food at the buffet, that she was here! Well, the rumour was true, sitting next to me the Legend…
I was not worthy to be in the same room that day. There she was, simply dressed with a jean and a loose blouse. What was I expecting, a dressing gown?
I made the mistake to only look at her sideways… And, in my head, I commented on her size! I felt so ashamed. What a kind look that “grande dame” has, like the unaltered kindness of a child. I could only look down when I felt her eyes looking at me when she got up to leave, as if she knew but forgave her, like the great soul she is.
(I certainly didn’t want my first encounter with you to happen this way… I have dreamt of meeting you my whole like. Please universe, give me another chance to tell her how much she meant to me in my toughest moment, to tell you all the love I have for you. You will be in my prayers until that day comes again…).
Right then, as I came back to reality, your producer/director, Marc Béland entered your room like a gust of wind.
Well, right then, my legs felt like they were going to collapse!
You presented to him and told him we studied theater together. Then suddenly started talking about Ginette! That is it… he is making a movie about her and I am the only one large enough to play her! Goodie! I definitely wasn’t going well right then. It certainly because I haven’t been sleeping for ages you know Fabien!
I was taking so many different pills then that I probably looked like a girl on coke!
That day, it became painfully obvious that I wasn’t feeling well and decided that things had to change… drastically.
Since Paris, because I learnt that I kind a snore a bit more than a cat’s soft purr (apparently the roof goes up and down, according to my drama kind, and it’s even worse now that I have a pneumonia apparently… in a word, I am supposedly worse now than when it’s that time of the month… or so THEY say. So, I have been kindly relegated to the guest room, which, contrarily to our room… has a TV screen!...
It has been a very long while since I have watched it… Still as boring as I remembered it! It’s like nothing has changed!
Same damn annoying ads, the news is still filled with negativism. Worse even, at that time, university students decided to get into the streets and protest against the rise in school fees, again! So, out of the classroom and into the streets! With pots and spoons on top of it.
Oh, and they wore disguises so we couldn’t identify them. Oh well, at least they are not in front of their PlayStation and doing a bit of exercise!
Bravo kids!
Ironic that school fees are still way lower here than South of the border (I reflected on how lucky that my son wasn’t going to Uni this semester, I would have freaked out to see him on TV parading in costume…).
I couldn’t find anything to watch… well to the exception of a series call Adam and Eve. A local TV show, written by a famous Québec multi talented comedian called Claude Meunier.
THAT, I enjoyed!
Unfortunately, we know the ending… None! No sequel!
(Is it me who doesn’t like the same things as the masses but every time I like something, it seems it invariably gets cancelled?).
Yet, Claude Meunier IS A REAL GENIUS. That is undeniable...
Anyway, all that to say that, during that episode, they were conversing about sleep apnea.
Suddenly I wondered: can women also suffer from it?
(Claude Meunier probably would have choke if I asked him: Dammit, my luck, it especially helps bigger ladies to sleep if treated! What the…?).
The next day, at the sleep clinic, I was filling the questionnaire they gave me...
Then, the respiratory therapist diligently insisted to write, one by one, each and everyone one of my pills… I offered to provide her with a USB drive with all items listed, or a booklet maybe? I could have the files in alphabetical boxes delivered by a van within a day?
Then, I reflected on the next question…
“Do you take any drugs?”.
(- “Not for a very long while”, did I whisper.)