In June 2014, I was living in Deception Bay, Queensland. One day I had to go to Brisbane on business, and I decided the train would be the best way to get there. The nearest station was Dakabin. I selected the train I needed to catch in order to get to my appointment on time.

As it turned out, I inadvertently caught an earlier train that happened to pull into the station shortly after my arrival—serendipity. As I entered the carriage, I noted that it was fairly full, with a few scattered seats still available.

Over the years, when I enter a room that is crowded, it has been my practice to pray and ask for guidance as to where or with whom I should sit. Invariably, I have been led to people whom I had not previously met face-to-face, but who—unknown to me—would become, or who already had been, an integral part of my life. Such has been the nature of my guidance.

So on this occasion, I again prayed and was directed to sit next to a well-dressed, well-presented middle-aged lady. Without any shyness we introduced ourselves, and I discovered that this very nice lady’s name was Alison. It was not long before we were sharing our thoughts on spirituality and the paranormal.

Something about Allison reminded me of the famous English medium Rosemary Brown, who once talked with some very famous deceased composers and wrote down music that they “dictated” to her. I have read both her books, Unfinished Symphonies: Voices from the Beyond and Immortals at My Elbow. I watched her on television as she “received” music from Chopin, which was immediately authenticated by a world-famous pianist who was also present. I met and spoke with renowned concert pianist John Lill about Rosemary, knowing he had contributed a chapter to her book confirming some circumstances that involved Beethoven.

I mention Rosemary Brown because, like Alison, she had a demeanour that was quietly spoken and unassuming, which, to me, is the hallmark of a genuine psychic. Psychic gifts are sacred trusts, and only those who are genuine receive any respect from me. I had no doubts about Alison.

I have had many experiences, as Alison has, but obviously our life paths are uniquely different. I have met people in dreams whom I did not know but found out later were real live people. I have seen some people who, I subsequently found out, had actually passed on—once on the first anniversary of that person’s demise, and on another occasion at the time of transition.

Alison mentioned the book she had been writing and that she needed a preliminary edit so that her manuscript would be on its way to being an acceptable standard to send to publishers. The editing would be time-consuming and, therefore, expensive, so I offered to assist her in this regard, which Alison accepted.

During the course of the subsequent editing, I was constantly aware of becoming more and more involved in the emotion of Alison’s experiences, and at times I felt exhausted as I lived through them. I have endeavoured to preserve the integrity of Alison’s story, which I hope will be a profound lesson for all those who are confused by the source of their own emotions and behaviours.

Alison’s journey has been one of courage and determination—supported, thankfully, by the many intermittent, independent confirmations of her insightfulness.

Alison and I agreed that we had not had previous encounters in former lives, but I had not considered any encounters with connections in this life. When I shared the details of Alison’s book with Grace, my previous wife, she announced that her ancestors had come from Culloden—a fact about which I had been completely unaware. Serendipity?