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OODLES OF E.S.P.



OODLES OF ESP COVER

“In the blink of an eye, something happens by chance – when you least expect it – it sets you on a course that you never planned, into a future you never imagined.” Nicholas Sparks, Author 

Have you ever felt a shiver up the spine? Seen a ghost or sensed a presence? Or had that uncanny feeling you have met someone somewhere before? Have you received a meaningful deep dream, or even a premonition, or sensed someone beside you, supreme? You are not alone. Once extrasensory perception is experienced, you begin to question, what are the possibilities? 

Oodles of E.S.P. is a story that spans 40 years of one woman’s experiences and research into intriguing tales of encounters of the paranormal and their veracity. It is a compelling read for anyone interested in the positive side of the supernatural, whether they have had one or two personal experiences or many. 

Initially in the UK, in a move to Australia, the writer’s research continues and the stories progress. Accounts include out-of-body experiences, telepathy, apparitions, life-saving messages, deep and meaningful dreams, synchronicity, symbolism, premonitions, holograms and, occasionally, a message from a Higher Being. Evidence for benevolent forces abounds.

In Store Price: $23.95 
Online Price:   $22.95

 

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ISBN: 978-0-6480998-8-8
Format: Paperback
Number of pages: 166
Genre: Non Fiction

Cover: Clive Dalkins


Author
-
  ANNA V. PALMER
Publisher: Zeus Publications
Date Published:  2017
Language: English


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DEDICATION

To 

 The Commander 

 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  

To everyone who helped make this book possible,

especially to Zoe, my meticulous, patient and constructive editor, Clive for his renowned exquisite, ethereal cover design,

to Marilyn, ever-responsive to a writer’s queries,

Leanne, my initial point of contact,

and to all those involved in the Zeus organisation.

Thank you.
Author biography

 

Anna V. Palmer is a writer of intriguing, inspiring words, music and verse, with her true tales of the extraordinary and informative interview articles. Her stories range from E.S.P., astral travel (O.B.E.), premonitions and meaningful, deep dreams and benevolent messages from beyond.  

Born in the UK, Anna lived and worked in London for many years in commerce and humanitarian fields whilst studying ESP and its veracity. A former conference organiser and manager, she later moved to Australia, where she continued her research and findings. 

“In the early hours of the morning, in that shift between sleeping and waking, Beings of Infinite Wisdom can whisper to the reclining head, still slumbering in the warmth of the sheets that cover up… if we care to listen.”  Anna V. Palmer 

“We are as the trees: of different varieties, built for varying purposes. All have their identity, a reason to be, a preference for certain soils. None should be cast aside nor despoiled. Each has the ability, if they will, to produce what was meant to be, to sustain, to shade, to unfurl. Each has a different age to run – as do the trees – some blossom quickly, bear fruit and are gone, whilst others are destined to take a much longer run. You, too, have your own reason to be. 

“You are much more than you have ever imagined.”

                   Gregg Braden


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INTRODUCTION

 

ONCE YOU HAVE SEEN OR SENSED THE PRESENCE OF A GHOST OF A LOVED ONE it changes your life. You begin to question. You ‘know’ now – they exist.

It was a gradual process, my learning we are able to resonate and even merge with the ethereal world and able to learn a great deal along the way. There is nothing strange or unusual about psychic awareness and the intuitive mind if you honour the wisdom of 10,000 years of ancient understanding such as the Sumerian and Indian civilisations.

In every human being there slumber faculties by means of which he can acquire for himself a knowledge of higher worlds,” says Brad Steiger.

Awareness of extrasensory perception and other dimensions just happened to me. At an early age, I became aware that others did not always see the same things as me, so I learned to keep quiet about it. Yet, I sensed, vaguely, that a benign force for good moves silently amongst us on Earth – despite the pain and anguish we all undergo at times. The credibility of Extrasensory Perception experiences gradually began to be important to me. I wanted to learn more.

From about seven years of age, my ability to receive information slowly progressed and expanded from first an iota of knowledge to that of a sapling, into a grown tree, then came flowers which bore fruit. So too, my growing appreciation of the benevolent forces who came my way. Along the way, I noticed it was always they who contacted me when there was a need – not I them.

Those of us who have truly loved know the essence of ‘joy’ at that time, the ability to communicate mentally with the loved one over a distance. You are able to sense their proximity, ‘know’ their thoughts, their feelings whether they are exhilarated, or in trouble and reaching out for your support. Those who have passed over, who care for us, are able to get in touch with us in a similar way as are the Beings with higher knowledge.

At some time in our lives we all ask the question, “Who am I?” I was no exception. My gradual realisation that there is much more to life than meets the casual eye is the reason I write of some of my mysterious encounters, though names have been changed where necessary to protect anonymity. Sharing stories is how we learn and are able to progress on our journey of discovery.

An opportunity presented itself for me to study comparative religions, ancient civilisations and ESP. So I took it. I asked wise men and women and visionaries who knew answers, I listened to lectures, watched countless tutorials and I read many, many books. I wanted to understand. Eventually it all made sense… as you will see.

Anna V. Palmer 

* * * 

You must have been deeply saddened by some experience – a great loss or pain – to be drawn to the spiritual dimensions, it is said. Blessings throughout life are often preceded by harsh hurdles and falls that, at the time, we are not sure we can overcome. Our minds feel raw. We feel defeated. Yet, out of the ashes, in finding the opportunity, we are able to, and do, spiral up again.

There is much more to life than meets the casual eye if we care to listen or to open our inner eye and exchange knowledge with those of like mind. That is what this book is about. Just as you seek to find your way. Always I sought for verification – proof – integrity. Rarely was I disappointed. 

PRELUDE 

 

“....Your ability to know the power of kindness grew out of some darkness and pain in your past.”

Dr Wayne W Dyer

  

There are many examples. This is only one of them:- 

ANNA HASLOP LAY WIDE AWAKE, as she did most nights these days. Wisps of a disturbing dream she could not quite recall woke her. Dreams frequently have a purpose, she knew. But only a shadowy feeling of fear and impending danger remained with her. Her eyes, gritty and red from lack of sleep, peered into the darkness. Cool cream, the newly fitted wardrobes, the dusky-pink rosebuds on bed linen, curtains and lampshades, she could just make out. To the undiscerning eye, life for her was a bed of roses. Enviable! How wry! In the past few days, unknown to others, her whole world had been blown sky high.

Mulling over the farce of this Christmas, and of life with Carl, she felt trapped, desolate. Her visit to see her doctor had been daunting, his diagnosis startling. Unable to think straight any more, her mind felt raw.

The telephone in the kitchen was ringing out. She must run to answer it. Carl would be dead to the world. She groped for her dressing gown and, slipping it over her nightdress, stepped out of the guest room.

Her auburn-gold hair, tousled from restlessly tossing and turning beneath the bedclothes, cascaded softly onto her shoulders. Once smiling, her sea-green eyes these days looked almost hollow. Dark shadows, permanently resident under them from lack of sleep and worrying, reflected the depth of her sadness – deep.

Thankful for the central heating they’d installed whilst renovating the 500-year-old barn, she made her way swiftly through the hallway, noticing as she passed the feathered fingers of hoarfrost fast encroaching on the leadlight windows. By morning the panes would be glazed over in an intricate leaf-like pattern of ice. The heavy fall of snow earlier this evening had cloaked countryside and cottage gardens a ghostly eerie white. She flicked on the light switch on the inside wall of the open kitchen door.

In the kitchen, the log stove, earlier banked down by Carl with slack for the night, glowed red in places, emitting its customary comforting combustion warmth.

As she reached out for the phone, the ringing stopped. She sighed, turned and began to retrace her steps; her mind pervaded with her problem – Carl. She could think of little else these days but his excessive drinking, the effect it was having on him – on them. His tantrums, his lying, and the expense of his incessant thirst were daunting. The tell-tale crash of breaking glass when the refuse bin was emptied made her cringe. The knowing look from the neighbours, and the lies to family and friends was exhausting. No visitors called these days – not like before. It was all so embarrassing. Now Carl suffered with the rigors, shaking, and delirium. She was at a loss to know how best to handle the situation. 

* * * 

“Wha… wha’s that you say?”

The shrill, insistent voice on the other end of the line set Carl’s nerves on edge.

Slowly the implication of the message began to impact on his alcohol-soaked brain.

“Just a minute!” His voice was flat, cold. “I think you must want my wife.”

He thrust the receiver away from him. The high-pitched, nasal voice of the woman was still audible. He listened with growing anger; finally he dropped the receiver. It dangled above the carpet. He left it there.

He tried to pull his muzzy thoughts together, to assess the caller’s words. An uncontrollable tremor shook his hands. His gut twisted, churning like a propeller on a single-engine aircraft. He stumbled towards the bedroom door. Where was the bitch?

 

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