Michael's Story
This letter is long overdue - about eight to ten years or so. This letter isn't about me though; rather it's a long overdue update on my nephew Michael. From what I can gather from my sister, Fiona, in his early days Michael seemed just like any other growing child with the exception that his communication skills appeared slow to develop. He had no problems eating, walking, and essentially entertaining himself. He was fixated by the television, and his favorite pastime seemed to be sitting in front of the set laughing at the commercials. He was very much into himself. As late as age four or five, he still wasn't talking (if I can remember correctly). My sister, Fiona, and brother-in-law, Robert, are simple, working-class folks: always struggling with the family budget, short on cash, but very long in their love for Michael. I can still remember Robert saying the happiest day in his life will be when Michael just says "Dad." One day - I believe Michael was about three at the time - I received a distraught call from Fiona. Michael had been taken to the hospital for some non-threatening reason. If I remember correctly it was to check up a fall or something. At the hospital, Michael went berserk. Uncontrollable. I have the impression of a completely traumatized child, crying and pushing off those around him. Nothing had been done to him to warrant the behavior, and he had to be sent home with his mother. When they returned home, the distraught behavior continued. For 36 hours, Michael wouldn't let anyone come near him, not even his mother. He sat crouched in the hallway and occasionally jumped over imaginary cracks in the floor. He wouldn't eat or go to bed. Eventually he calmed down, probably through sheer exhaustion.

It was at this time I contacted you, Douglas, for some help. I should add here that Fiona and Robert are practicing Catholics and they had no idea of what was coming their way. Your tape arrived and I soon had a distraught call from Fiona, along the lines of "How could you have done such a thing?!!" I'll hastily add that the tape was definitely a positive turning point for Fiona, as she'll freely admit now. But I regret to say, Douglas, you are still regarded as THAT MAN in a not-too-flattering tone by Robert (even though everything presented on the tape has more or less proven helpful). I had Fiona send me the tape, and from my perspective - a more detached uncle - it gave comfort in many ways, despite the horrific account being presented. The account explained that in his previous lifetime, Michael had been interred in a Nazi concentration camp along with his family. By his seventh birthday, he had lost everyone to the horrors of the camp; his means of protection from the horror was to withdraw to himself and crouch up into a ball. His trip to the hospital brought back the memories of men in white lab coats with sharp instruments like scissors. (This explained the tantrums Michael would go through whenever his mother tried to cut his hair, etc. Fiona would have to hide things like scissors and knives from his view.) The reading gave good council on how to handle the situation and presented some dietary guidelines to help the child develop. I can understand my sister's confusion. Here was someone presenting a plausible account for the situation, but this meant accepting the concept of a previous life. Her difficulty was compounded by the fact that certain secrets only a mother would know about her child were revealed in the reading. As much as she wanted to accept the evidence on the tape, there was one issue that was just too difficult for her to accept, and is/was the reason  Robert still has difficulty.

The reading went on to explain that Michael had chosen Fiona and Robert as his parents (and I will add his older sisters) because of the Love he would receive from them. He was prepared to stay with them until around his seventh birthday, then he would decide whether to go on with this incarnation. This was the great stumbling block to acceptance. The idea that a child could have that control just didn't sit right. How could he think such a thing? They loved him so much. To me I read this as such a beautiful gift to Fiona and Robert. That Michael would trust their Love and be willing to come back into the world, especially after what he'd been through. There was of course much more, but those are the salient points that I remember. Michael's physical growth progressed quite normally, but his social skills were slow to develop. He did start talking at the age of five, if I remember correctly, but was later diagnosed as having Asberger's syndrome.

As time went on, Fiona came  to accept the contents of the reading, and had two more as he progressed. These readings were mostly related to dietary and chiropractic adjustments to help him progress - and progress he certainly did. Michael is now 14, so I guess we can say Robert and Fiona passed the "Love" test. He is special in many ways. Although he still lacks some social skills, he excels in others. He is a skilled painter and has had one of his paintings hung at the Glasgow Art Gallery. This Gallery has Salvador Dali's Crucifixion in their collection, so I guess it's got good company. He has a photographic memory, and needs to read something just once and it's remembered. Fiona describes his mind as a computer. He is also an accomplished gardener. He was given a local garden plot about two years ago and spends considerable time there. It would not be enough to say he has green fingers, more like magic fingers. Considering the soil and climate in these parts, his produce is extraordinary. Cabbages the size of satellite dishes, according to Fiona. Enough baking potatoes to feed the neighborhood - and he does. There's so much of everything: tomatoes, leeks, beetroot, and so on. All huge. The neighbours are very pleased, and give him vouchers for the local hardware store and money to help him on. He's definitely passed the "Great Masters Ten Talent Test" - make use of so little. He also has a natural affinity for musical instruments, though that seems to be put aside for the moment. He took up the French Horn, and after just three months was playing simple tunes. His music teacher claimed he was the best student that had come through the school. If there's a flaw, it's in our eyes: he just cannot lie about anything, he is completely truthful in everything. It's a sad reflection, but this innocence could cause some difficulty.

Finally, he loves his Mother to bits. My sister has come a very long way in her view of spiritual matters: complete acceptance I'd say. At the time of the second reading, one of Fiona's Yorkshire terriers had given birth. For safety's sake, she put them in Michael's bedroom, since that's where there was the least disturbance. She installed a blue light in the room. This was a dim light, which wouldn't disturb Michael while he slept. The dim light would allow her to check that the puppies were all right, and she wouldn't accidentally step on them should they wander from their mother. Just as your reading was coming to a close, a last comment was made along the lines of: "While the Blue light has much healing properties, in this particular case we would recommend the Red light for the child." My sister's reaction (far cry from the anxious doubter) was "My God, he's been in my place and it was in an absolute mess!!!"
All the very best. Much Love, Ian Nimmons, Scotland

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