Speaking with the dead

So here’s a coincidence…

I’ve been writing a book about a woman who decides to pursue her dead husband into the underworld. As a prelude to doing this, naturally she tries to contact him via medium. Since I have no idea what it’s like to consult a medium, I had been thinking that I should find out…and, arriving in my airbnb in Seville, what should I find on the bedside table but an ad for the host’s occult services! Spooky!

As this is something of a ‘yes’ trip, I decided to go for it. Kind of a mistake, kind of not.

The mistake was thinking I could do this without becoming emotionally involved. It still only takes a thought or mention of my son to bring tears to my eyes, so of course when the (very pleasant) husband said he was feeling an angry, blaming presence, immediately my guilt over Felix’s death rose to the surface. So that was the end of calm, sceptical Rose.

First there was much bandying about of questions and counter-questions…

‘I’m feeling a strong feminine presence…very strong, aggressive’

‘I don’t know any strong aggressive angry women…’

‘Well, it could be a man hiding behind a woman…’

‘Ok…so what is…this person…angry about?’

‘He won’t say, he thinks you should know’

‘Well then…what does he want me to do about it?’ (I’m thinking, at this point, well he is dead, so..)

‘He needs you to communicate with someone…to get in touch with someone you maybe don’t speak to?’

‘But there isn’t anyone I should speak to that I don’t speak to…could this person identify themselves, at all?’

Apparently that was a hard ask. The medium went off and had a smoke to calm his anxiety. On his return we established that the otherworldy contact was probably a black boyfriend I had once who I’ve long ceased to give a fuck about and, I would think, vice versa. We picked him because he’s the only one of my exes that I’m pretty sure is actually beyond the veil, so to speak.

Realising that this wasn’t much of a revelation, the medium said he could sense another presence who was feeling much more comfy and peaceful, and at that point I made grateful noises and rushed away.

While the husband was having his smoko, I chatted to the wife, who taught him the mediumnic art. She explained that spirits exist in another dimension in which feelings, rather than words, are the preferred method of communication. They apparently can’t tell us what it’s like in this dimension, for the same reason that nuclear physicists can’t explain quarks to ants. Well, I could buy that, I guess…

But I can’t say I was convinced. The mediums (media?) were lovely, and did seem to genuinely believe in their art. The experience was fascinating, if extremely upsetting (for a while the idea of an unforgiving and furious Felix took hold of me in a particularly horrible way, and I was extremely relieved to find that it was only an unregretted and apparently pissed-off ex).

Never again.

Here are some cheerful pictures of Seville’s Royal Palace!