I was on my way to school in Nov. 1975 and had a feeling of absolute doom come over me. I knew that I HAD to stop at my dads' house before going to class. Somehow I knew something was going to happen to him. I urged him to get out of the house; though I couldn't explain why I told him that something terrible was going to happen to him. HE didn't take me seriously; told me to go to school and assured me he would be fine. HE said that he would call me when he got to work to put my mind at ease. Reluctantly, I went to school. Shortly after arriving, I starting feeling physically ill. I felt as if someone were hitting me in the head, over and over again...then in my abdomen. The pain was unbearable. It was almost as if I was being 'beat up' but I couldn't see my assailant. I ran out of the classroom and out of the building and I kept running until I reached my dads' house; about seven blocks away. I didn't have a key to get in and started screming and pounding on his door. He didn't answer, but I knew he was in there. I ran up the stairs to his neighbors apartment on the first floor (he lived in the basement apartment). I screamed and pleaded with them to open the door. They flatly refused, it made no sense to me and only made me more persistant. Still, no one would get the key for me. They claimed that they'd seen him leave for work and told me not to worry. I knew they were lying. My dads' routine was predictable. He left at the same time every day; took the same bus into Brooklyn. All the while I am feeling worse and worse; every single bone in my body ached and I was growing weak. Finally, I went home. The minute I walked in the door I tried to reach my dad at work. He wasn't there...I guess I already knew that would happen. I sat down on the couch exhausted. About an hour later, I woke up,completely disoriented to the shrill sound of the phone ringing. I answered it. It was my dads' boss; he'd not arrived yet. Did I know whre he was? No, I told him...what else was I to say? He'd think me some kind of nut...I knew he was still at home and something had happened to him but I was just a kid. Who would believe me? I went into my bedroom to lay down and wait for my mom to come home.. she would help, this I was sure of. I was in that stage right before sleep takes over when I heard my dads' footsteps on the stairs;which was odd to me because he no longer lived with us. WHO CARED?! I was happy,this meant he was okay Suddenly, he was standing in my doorway. He looked very handsome; much too dressed up for work. He never wore a suit jacket to work, or a tie but tonite he had on a black tie and a black and white checked jacket on. He smiled at me and tod me not to worry. He said that he loved me and told me to tell my mother and my sisters that he loved them very much. He also said that I would have to take care of them now. He put out his hand and dropped something into my hand. Then he kissed me and walked out of the room. I must have fallen asleep then because I didn't hear his footsteps on the stairs. I awoke to find my mother standing over me. She told me that my father had had a terrible accident and was in the hospital. She had to go but wanted me to stay home and take care of my sisters until she returned. My father was in a coma and died 36 hours later. He had been beaten so badly (in his own apartment) that the doctor said he looked as if he'd fallen out of a 10th story window. When he was found he'd almost lost all the blood in his body. 4 quarts had to be transfused in. He'd laid there for 6 hours before the police were called by his upstairs neighbors reporting a disturbance. No one ever paid for this crime, in fact; no one ever investigated this crime. This is an absolutely true story. WHEN MY MOTHER WOKE ME , THAT HORRIBLE EVENING, SO LONG AGO; I HELD IN MY HAND A ST. CHRISTOPHERS MEDAL ATTACHED TO A KEYRING. That is what he dropped into my hand. My mother went to his apartment to picked out the clothes he was to be 'laid out' in at the funeral home- alone. You guessed it...the clothes were exactly the same as the ones he wore to say goodbye to me in my bedroom. This was the first time I experienced a premonition of death along with physical pain...but unfortunately not the last. In my adult life I've learned to block the identities because the experiences haunted and terrified me. How it changed my life:It made me aware of my 'gift'-my curse as never before. It made me a much more spiritual person and scared me so that for years I experienced night terrors and an un-natural preoccupation with my own death. It has taken a lot of therapy and counselling to come to terms with it.
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