The Perfect Fit - A Psychic Romance, Laney's Past Life & Love Read Online Free
Author: TY Gister
keeping a journal by my counsellor during the divorce. Although I'd been unhappily married, it had still been a confusingly emotional time and writing was supposed to help and to be fair, it had. But now when I try and think about making something up, I'm stuck. I don't know where to start or who to start with.
Yeh, maybe a romance is a good idea. I can include snatches of the things that have happened and then add in some of what I wish had happened. By the time I've finished my coffee I have the stirrings of a plan scribbled down in my notebook and feel much brighter. Rounding up my things, I get up to go in and pay for my coffee. Cath is at the till, her head cocked to one side, the phone jammed between her shoulder and ear. Nodding at me, multitasking effortlessly, she rings up the amount for the mocha, luckily I have the exact money.
"No, No... I want four dozen by Wednesday not Thursday!"
I mouth thanks and goodbye. She's too busy to try and casually ask about the waiter. I'll have to find out who the mystery guy is next time.
Chapter 2
I almost skip home and there is a definite spring in my step. Now I have the threads of an idea and it feels good, I have somewhere to start from.
The sun has faded away and the wind has picked up even more. It's only early afternoon but suddenly it seems later. I'm glad to get back indoors. One of the things that made my mind up about this place was the cosy living room, with its bookshelves and best of all, the fireplace. I love a real fire. I know some people moan about the dust it makes but I love it. Although I've had to downsize, one of the things I did keep was my beloved log basket and outside there is a tiny store for my neatly stacked logs.
It doesn't take long to get the fire going and as I pick up a small round log from the basket I get a sudden sense of déjà vu. I've been getting these a lot lately. Often just tiny snatches that don't make much sense, especially as they don't seem to be from this lifetime. The way I'm holding the log and bending over to put it on the fire is the same, but the fireplace is different and it seems a long time ago. I don’t think much of it and sit down to get comfy and to start writing in earnest. Then it occurs to me. That image of déjà vu, that fireplace I remember, I've seen one similar to it before.
A friend of mine had been doing some training a few months back. A hypnotherapist, she'd diversified into regression and wanted willing volunteers as case studies. Of course I volunteered and as such had several past life sessions. That fireplace was in one of them. Better than that, the lifetime I had seen was one of the clearest, even though it was sad too. But it's not the sad part that excites me now, it's the reason it was sad, the love there was between myself and my partner in that lifetime. We hadn't been married but the love we felt for each other was the stuff that melts your heart. That was it, I could write about that, write about that love and that time.
I'd been surprised at the time how strong it had felt and how real, luckily Heather had taken meticulous notes and recorded the sessions. I jumped up, I had them somewhere. They must be in with all the paperwork and books, most of which is here on the shelves, there's a small amount left in storage. Hopefully not those though.
A half hour of frantic rummaging and yep, here they are. A few sheets of A4 with details of love felt and lost, a heart elated and a heart broken. It had all seemed so real to me and if I can recall those feelings then that surely has got to help me evoke the very things I need for a decent romance. Immediately after the sessions I was always blown away by how strong they were and how real everything felt. I usually cried buckets, which apparently is all good. It certainly felt pretty good, although it is kind of bizarre watching your own death but once you get used to that idea it's all pretty cool after that.
Placing another log on the
Yeh, maybe a romance is a good idea. I can include snatches of the things that have happened and then add in some of what I wish had happened. By the time I've finished my coffee I have the stirrings of a plan scribbled down in my notebook and feel much brighter. Rounding up my things, I get up to go in and pay for my coffee. Cath is at the till, her head cocked to one side, the phone jammed between her shoulder and ear. Nodding at me, multitasking effortlessly, she rings up the amount for the mocha, luckily I have the exact money.
"No, No... I want four dozen by Wednesday not Thursday!"
I mouth thanks and goodbye. She's too busy to try and casually ask about the waiter. I'll have to find out who the mystery guy is next time.
Chapter 2
I almost skip home and there is a definite spring in my step. Now I have the threads of an idea and it feels good, I have somewhere to start from.
The sun has faded away and the wind has picked up even more. It's only early afternoon but suddenly it seems later. I'm glad to get back indoors. One of the things that made my mind up about this place was the cosy living room, with its bookshelves and best of all, the fireplace. I love a real fire. I know some people moan about the dust it makes but I love it. Although I've had to downsize, one of the things I did keep was my beloved log basket and outside there is a tiny store for my neatly stacked logs.
It doesn't take long to get the fire going and as I pick up a small round log from the basket I get a sudden sense of déjà vu. I've been getting these a lot lately. Often just tiny snatches that don't make much sense, especially as they don't seem to be from this lifetime. The way I'm holding the log and bending over to put it on the fire is the same, but the fireplace is different and it seems a long time ago. I don’t think much of it and sit down to get comfy and to start writing in earnest. Then it occurs to me. That image of déjà vu, that fireplace I remember, I've seen one similar to it before.
A friend of mine had been doing some training a few months back. A hypnotherapist, she'd diversified into regression and wanted willing volunteers as case studies. Of course I volunteered and as such had several past life sessions. That fireplace was in one of them. Better than that, the lifetime I had seen was one of the clearest, even though it was sad too. But it's not the sad part that excites me now, it's the reason it was sad, the love there was between myself and my partner in that lifetime. We hadn't been married but the love we felt for each other was the stuff that melts your heart. That was it, I could write about that, write about that love and that time.
I'd been surprised at the time how strong it had felt and how real, luckily Heather had taken meticulous notes and recorded the sessions. I jumped up, I had them somewhere. They must be in with all the paperwork and books, most of which is here on the shelves, there's a small amount left in storage. Hopefully not those though.
A half hour of frantic rummaging and yep, here they are. A few sheets of A4 with details of love felt and lost, a heart elated and a heart broken. It had all seemed so real to me and if I can recall those feelings then that surely has got to help me evoke the very things I need for a decent romance. Immediately after the sessions I was always blown away by how strong they were and how real everything felt. I usually cried buckets, which apparently is all good. It certainly felt pretty good, although it is kind of bizarre watching your own death but once you get used to that idea it's all pretty cool after that.
Placing another log on the
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