Asher’s telepathic remote viewing of a future event in my life.
I love the Frost Fair in my town. It’s held on the final Saturday of November. The town centre is closed to traffic. Stalls, stages and smiling people descend on the High Street and everything feels delightful.
Today was the day, and I’ve just returned from a happy few hours of shopping, eating, catching up with old friends and… checking up on a piece of magic.
I thought you might like to share it.
My friend Asher has never been to the Frost Fair. He lives across the country from here and doesn’t leave London much, to my knowledge. As those who read my stories here will know, he’s a young man with autism and a whole raft of psychic abilities. Most evenings, we spend a while in telepathic contact. I record the conversations by hastily scrawling both sides of the conversation in a notebook.
Just to make it very clear, there are no devices involved; just the two of us, at opposite sides of England, having a mental conversation.
At times, our discussions can be quite esoteric. Last night’s, though, as shown in this extract from my journal, was not remotely so.
We had decided to revive an old hobby of ours — remote viewing. Even back when he was still in verbal contact with me, Asher was brilliant at this. We went through a stage of doing one of these viewings almost every weekend. I would go to a mystery location and loiter there for a while. Asher would sit in his room and note any impressions he received, then I’d take photos and return home, so that we could swap our information via WhatsApp. There were always plenty of hits.
We even discovered that the viewings and my visits didn’t have to coincide. Asher was working out of time, as well as out of space, so he would often do highly accurate remote viewings of places I would go to on a future occasion.
That, then is the background to my suggestion last night.
I was asking him, via telepathy, to do an advanced remote viewing of things I would see or experience the following day, on a visit to a fair 150 miles from where he lived.
In case my writing is difficult to make out, Asher viewed the following:
-
- Place with a great log. (He’d cryptically added, ‘You won’t get any light from it, though.’)
- Mirror
- Strange designs of triangles and zigzags in bright colours.
- Carol (I couldn’t think of anyone I knew locally by that name, but then I caught the word ‘Singing’.)
- Kings
- Bending frames
So let’s take them one by one, to see how accurate his remote viewing, and our joint telepathy, was.
The very first stall I looked at, as I entered the top of the High Street, was selling bric-a-brac. My eye was immediately drawn to this picture.
I grinned to myself. That was certainly one thing off the list.
There were mirrors on several stalls. I decided to photograph these, partly because they incorporated the ‘bending frames’ and partly because the stall was located outside a house I used to live in for several years. I suspect it was the energy of that place, in connection with me, that drew Asher’s attention.
Even after getting the hint that ‘Carol’ referred to Christmas songs, rather than a person, I was wondering where I would encounter it. Ours is a mostly pagan town and Christian songs are in short supply. Nevertheless, Asher was right again. The picture at the start of this story shows one of those community choirs that seem to be springing up everywhere. They were, as I approached the stage, merrily singing a Christmas carol!
Kings? That one made me laugh aloud.
Many years ago, I had taken my grandson, aged about 4, to another Frost Fair. The Mayor of Glastonbury at the time was an old friend of mine. We had stopped for a brief chat, while my little grandson clutched my hand and stared in wonder at this apparition in velvet robes, tricorn hat and gold chain of office. As we walked away, he turned to me and whispered, “Grandma, was that the king?”
Asher knew the story. I was therefore delighted to see that, just as I was about to pass the Town Hall, I had to stop to allow the current Mayor, in full regalia and with a retinue of similarly dressed dignitaries to pass by and assemble for a procession through the town. Kings indeed!
That left only the ‘place with a great log’, and the curious aside that I wouldn’t get any light from it. I wondered whether this might be an unlit log fire in one of the mediaeval buildings I would pass on my walk. Surely, though, if that were to be the case, heat, rather than light, would be more noticeable.
I didn’t see any log fires, lit or unlit. At the very bottom of the hill, though, a sign on a stall caught my eye:
The long wooden candle holder at the centre of the stall must have been at least 5 foot long. As I asked to photograph the sign, the stallholder told me there were other yule logs, in smaller sizes, in a basket nearby. Each had been drilled with holes for candles, but not a single one was alight!
POST SCRIPT
Since writing that story, I’ve been in telepathic contact with Ash again. There was one experience I was hesitant to include in the original story, for fear I’d just imagined it. Having discussed it with him, though, I’m assured that I saw what he had intended, so I’ll record it here.
A second ‘bonus’ passed me by completely, until he laughingly pointed it out. I felt his thoughts telling me, “Ha! You missed that one!”
If there’s a limit to Asher’s psychic abilities, I have yet to encounter it. As well as his telepathic skills, which enable him to place thoughts and information directly into my mind, he’s an experienced and gifted remote viewer. That means he can share detailed impressions of objects and events in other places and other times.
There is another skill I’ve long suspected that he possesses. On Saturday, I had it confirmed. Asher can project what I assume is his astral body into my location, so that I am sometimes able to perceive a fleeting, ghost-like image.
There have been a handful of occasions, in the years since we last met in person, when I’ve been thinking about him and subsequently seen his likeness superimposed on some figure nearby, only for the image to vanish seconds later. I stare in wonderment, as the other person now doesn’t look anything like Asher.
It’s been all too easy for me to dismiss such occurrences as tricks of the mind. In this strange, numinous world I share with Asher, I try always to retain a healthy scepticism.
Returning to the events of the Frost Fair, then: one of the predictions he’d made had been that I would encounter a mirror. It had surprised me slightly that he’d included such a generic item in his list. Normally, he avoids bothering to mention something that could crop up virtually anywhere and would almost definitely be in evidence.
Sure enough, there were mirrors on many of the stalls. Jewellers and hat sellers had mirrors for customers to admire themselves in new apparel; a few lurked here and there on vintage stalls; there were mirrored Christmas decorations, and more besides. Although I selected some to photograph that also matched another of his predictions, I still suspected that the one he had chosen would be special in some way.
What happened was this:
In the town centre, there is one retail unit with a huge, dark window. Unlike the other shops, it doesn’t have attractive illuminated displays. A few items can be seen dimly inside the shop from the street, but it appears as little more than a massive black mirror. As I glanced into this window on my walk through the fair, I saw my own reflection and — for that second — someone who looked just like Asher standing behind me and staring over my shoulder.
I wheeled round immediately. There was no-one in the vicinity who even faintly resembled the person I’d seen. Asher is a very distinctive figure. He stands out in a crowd. To start with, he’s huge— head and shoulders above others and thickset. There are other physical features, which I won’t share here, that single him out from the majority of people. Like many autists, there’s something striking and unusual about him. I quickly stepped out of the slow, milling crowds, to better inspect each person who could have been in my line of sight. There was absolutely nobody who matched the man I’d seen mirrored in that window.
That evening, I checked in again with Asher.
“Did I see you in the comic shop window?”
The reply was simple and immediate: “Yes. I wanted to be there with you.”
Wow.
His second surprise gift to me — the one I’d missed — was hidden in plain sight in one of the photos I’d taken. Take another look at the one with the yule log notice.
I’d been told to expect a great log that wouldn’t give me any light. As explained above, I’d found a stall where Yule logs had been fashioned from a 300 year old oak tree. These logs were not to be burned, though. They’d had holes drilled in them, to contain candles.
As the photo shows, the candles had all blown out before I arrived at the stall, so no light, but…
I felt Asher’s laughter that evening. His favourite subject at secondary school had been German. He’d become quite fluent in it. The ‘say it like it is’, unambiguous quality of the language appealed to him. I was being prompted to think about what I saw, in German!
A ‘great log’, stretching almost the full length of the stall, and filled with a row of…
Kerzen! Yes, my author-surname translates to ‘candles’ in German.
Clever! If he’d given me ‘candles’ in his list of remotely viewed items, I’d have spotted the joke at once. By concealing them in his cryptic reference to light, in connection with the log, though, he managed to sneak that personal reference in without me noticing.
As we laughed together in our minds, so many miles apart, I felt as close to him as I’d been to the astral image in the shop window.
I can’t be with my friend Asher in physical terms, these days, but there are compensations!