Tales of the para­nor­mal

Too at­tached

Chat It's Fate - - Contents -

Read­ers tell it how it is

I’m usu­ally a happy-golucky per­son, but oc­ca­sion­ally I’d get filled with sad­ness for no rea­son.

So, I de­cided to have a pastlife ther­apy ses­sion with hyp­nother­a­pist, Alba Wein­man…

Stood on a busy street in an an­cient port, I waited for my fa­ther. I was dressed in shorts, a white shirt, brown jacket, and black vel­vet shoes with golden buck­les. ‘I’m a 14-year-old boy called Ni­cholas,’ I told Alba. ‘It’s around the 1800s, in Italy or Brazil.’ Slip­ping back into the scene, I saw a di­shev­elled woman hold­ing a boy’s hand. He was look­ing at me. Then, my fa­ther ar­rived, en­veloped me in a hug. Pil­ing into a horse-driven car­riage, we headed for the coun­try. Once home, I ran up­stairs to my bed­room. My par­ents were down­stairs, row­ing. Then, the ther­a­pist sug­gested I re­visit a big

event in my life.

Im­me­di­ately, I saw my­self, Ju­lia, out­side the univer­sity I went to. My par­ents had driven me there, but had barely spo­ken to each other. Like Ni­cholas’ folks, mine ar­gued a lot, too. Also, in my vi­sion, Ni­cholas only saw the back of his mother’s head. And I can’t re­call much warmth from mine.

After univer­sity, I saw Ni­cholas at a desk, an ac­coun­tant. I, too, was alone after my de­gree, and I craved a cor­po­rate ca­reer. Only I’d a child to pri­ori­tise. But, ly­ing there in 2017, I longed for Ni­cholas’ seem­ingly perfect life. I’d a knot in my stom­ach, like I was stuck. It was con­fus­ing. ‘Are you a male or fe­male en­ergy?’ Alba in­ter­rupted. Back in the port, now I was the poor boy I’d seen. Frank was an­gry with his mother, and jeal­ous of my fancy footwear. The seven-year-old had died of the plague in the 1800s, and was a ghost when he at­tached him­self to Ni­cholas as they passed each other. Through Ni­cholas, he fol­lowed me to this life. Alba helped Frank move on, lift­ing the weight I’d been car­ry­ing. Thanks to Ni­cholas and Frank, I’m happy again.

Ju­lia Kol­basova, 35, from Lon­don

Ther­a­pist Alba: Helped me...

I slipped back in time...

Poor Frank: So jeal­ous

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