Do Dead People Walk Their Dogs? (20 page)

No, not at
all. Many times a spirit wants to be on their way regardless of whether their presence is bothering us or not. It’s not usually their intention to be a nuisance—most spirits want to be near their loved ones, not a stranger. Sometimes they just get stuck and need a little help to get going. A young woman I met in New York, a friend of a client, has a funky light switch in her kitchen. You sometimes have to force it a bit to get the switch to go up, but once it’s up it stays up. It’s only a minor hassle so she never did anything about getting it fixed. One evening, she was on the phone with a friend and all of a sudden, the light goes off. This never happened before so the first thought in her head is that the wiring must be in worse shape than she thought and she better get it looked at. She goes over, thinking she’ll need to jiggle the switch or something and sees that the switch is down. Very strange. It often takes some effort to get it to go up, but it never has just flicked itself down before. She flicks it up and continues talking with her friend, and don’t you know the light goes off again! This time when she sees that the light somehow has flicked itself down again she says to her friend, “I better get off the phone!” She’s a little freaked out and decides to call another friend, a clairvoyant who lives in California. She tells him what’s been happening and he says, “Since I’m not there, would you like me to ask a spirit who sometimes helps me to look into what is causing this?” His guide (who presents herself as a female spirit, even though in spirit form we really are neither gender) goes through the young woman’s apartment and reports that there was a man who had died in the apartment, and she is being shown water, so it’s likely he died in the bathtub. She convinces this unhappy spirit to leave the young woman’s space—but not before he flicks the light switch down one more time! It’s great if you have a psychic buddy or your own spirit sidekick who can take care of these kinds of things for you, but the truth is that it’s not even necessary. You only need to remember that any time you want a bad spirit to leave you alone, you only need to mention God’s name. Just say, “In the name of God, be gone.” He’s the big guns.

The very best
setup for me would be a room with lots of air and lots of light. This is not just for large shows—I have my home office set up this way. I have double-hung windows on both sides, and I use a glass table. My sister-in-law Choi explained to me that the arrangement of the furniture I have is compatible with good feng shui—the energy flows easily around my things, there’s no clutter, the energy is constantly moving and cleansing—nothing gets stuck. Basically, the lighter the better is my rule—and I like it if there is an open door that I can look out of. Often newer buildings are better. Older buildings were built to keep in the heat; their windows tend to be small, and if they are stone, the energy will get stopped. Interior spaces in these buildings tend to be smaller, so that it’s not so easy to get around in physical form, much less energy form.

When I first began to work publicly, sometimes people would ask me to their homes—they’d set me up in a basement—you know, cement floors, windows above, thick walls. They’d light a candle and think I’d be happy with the setup. I didn’t have the heart to tell them it wasn’t really a user-friendly environment. Another thing that would happen frequently would be that someone would basically throw a little party in their living room and have me in some upstairs bedroom with a little window and a little candle, while everyone else was downstairs with nice snacks, socializing. Not fun for someone like me, who loves being at the center of the party!

But no matter the room, the spirits will still find a way to get in and get their messages to their loved ones; it’s just that some present more challenges than others. When I did a show for the Learning Annex in New York City, they put me in a gymnasium. There were windows, but they were small and way up above my head, and there were mats hung on the walls—probably to keep people from getting hurt if they smacked into a wall, but for my purposes it had a deadening effect (no pun intended), but the Dead still got through. I did a large show at Mayfair Farms, in West Orange, New Jersey, which was an absolutely gorgeous venue, but I was in a ballroom with mirrored walls that made the energy bounce all over the place and wrought havoc with our microphones. My sound guy, Chris, has been with me a long time, so he’s pretty much seen it all. He said, “We’re gonna have to get Dead-proof mics!”

Basically the environment
should be bright and as open as possible—no basements, no attics, nothing closed in, dark, or boxy. Lots of windows are better; houses that have a lot of steel or stone, not so good. If the gathering is a party, don’t greet the medium at the door with a glass of wine. Alcohol impairs spiritually as well as physically, so you don’t want her or him to drink before or during the readings—maybe after!

Oh, that’s a
good question! They help me out all the time! One of the best things is that they just make me look good by feeding me lines when I’m doing a reading or a show. Some of them also flirt with me and say nice things about me—and no, it’s not just all in my head! Though to be honest, after the age of fifty, I’ll take a compliment anywhere I can get it—even from a dead guy! Actually, we have a Mutual Admiration Society. They tell me, “Concetta, you are just the bee’s knees!” And I say, “Right back atcha, baby!”

I really like it when I hear about them helping others—and this takes so many different forms I couldn’t begin to cover them all. Often it can be something as simple as just making a connection and letting someone know that they are there, in a way that can’t be missed, so they’ll have that comfort. I have dear friends I’ve talked about before, the Barones, Rachele and Joseph, and their kids, Antonio and Susie. I love them like family. They own and operate the restaurant The Top of the Park. The food is fabulous and they are wonderful. Rachele and Joseph have a farm that John and I like to visit. This past spring we were there and there were brand-new little baby goats, just born, and I got to hold and pet them—Heaven! Rachele is from Italy and has the accent—I love to imitate her: “Concetta, just taste this—I knooow you like this.” But she gets in just as many jabs, she’ll say, “I know what
you
like—ravioli, Fendi bags, and dead people!” Rachele moved to the United States when she got married, leaving behind her parents and her favorite aunt and uncle, Zia Lucia and Zio Guilio. Some time later, Zia Lucia died, and a little while after that, Rachele was getting ready to make a trip back to Italy. Just before she went, she had a dream in which Zia Lucia told her to buy a necktie, which she understood was to be a gift for her Zio Giulio. Her aunt was impressing upon her that the tie should be of a particular shade of blue, patterned with paisley. The dream was so powerful and real to her that she thought, why not? She went shopping and lo and behold, she found a tie exactly like her aunt had shown her in her dream and she bought it. She took it with her to Italy and gave it to her uncle Guilio. When he saw the necktie he started to cry! He told Rachele that the last thing he’d bought for Lucia was a dress in that very same fabric and print. This was no coincidence. There is not a doubt in my mind that Lucia wanted to let her beloved Guilio know that she was still with him.

Another super cool thing the dead guys did for me seemed more like a favor they were doing for John, but any time they help one of mine I get the same charge, like it’s a personal favor. A couple months ago, John and I went out for a meal and to do some shopping. When we got home John realized he didn’t have his reading glasses. This is no small deal. These reading glasses are truly one of John’s prized possessions—they are Dolce & Gabbana that he bought in Paris on one of our trips. He
loooves
them and has often said that he knows he’ll never find anything like them again. We’d only gone to two places—a little restaurant and to Marshall’s—so he just figured he’d backtrack and maybe get lucky. He went back to the restaurant and told the owner where we’d been sitting, but nobody had found and turned in his glasses. Next he races back to Marshall’s and looks all over where he’d been looking at shirts. He’s like a lunatic—looking under the tables, in the bins—but he doesn’t find the glasses. He goes back home dejected, he’s slouched down in his chair in this terrible funk. But you have to know John. It’s only partly because of losing the glasses. The bigger part is that he’s really down-hearted about mankind, because he’s sure that somebody found the glasses and thought, “Wow, cool glasses,” and just kept them, and John would never do such a thing. He can’t understand how anyone would take—or even find and just keep—something that isn’t theirs. I’m trying to cheer him out of his mood, I ask, “Are you okay?” He says, “I’m fine.” But he really is not fine and I can’t stand seeing him this way. So now
I
go back to where we’ve been before. I know he’s already looked, but I think, maybe I can get some extra help. I ask the Other Side, “Come on, guys, can you help me out with this? John really loves those glasses. Whaddaya say?” I go and ask again at the restaurant if maybe they’ve turned up since John was there. No dice. Then I go to Marshall’s. I look all around the shirts and I even go to where they have sunglasses on display, thinking that maybe someone picked them up and put them back on the rack with the glasses. Nada. To be honest, I’m not looking forward to going home and seeing John in his funk, but I can’t think where else to look. Again I call over to the Other Side and say, “Please, can’t you come up with something? Please help me find the glasses!” Anyway, I get home, park the car, I’m going inside, and I hear a spirit whisper to me, “Concetta, turn your head.” I look over to the left and there on a rock next to the door are John’s glasses. How they got there I don’t even want to try to figure out! I was just delighted. I love when something like that happens. I love when I get to say to John, who still remains a bit skeptical even after all this time with me, “John, what are you going to do if I tell you the Other Side brought you something that you really want?” I never get tired of that. And John was never so happy!

Lots of times dead guys (and gals) have come to my rescue. I’m not talking about being in actual danger—I’ve already mentioned that thing we call ESP that is actually our protectors cluing us in that maybe we shouldn’t trust a particular person, that they mean us harm—just out of a bad spot. One time that comes to mind is when John and I were traveling in Colorado in 1995. We wanted to stay at a beautiful old hotel there, the Stratford, but foolishly we hadn’t called ahead for reservations. When we got there, they were completely booked up. It was a holiday weekend and we didn’t have any idea how far we’d have to travel to find another place. The manager was very nice and very apologetic, but we realized it was our fault for not planning ahead. The Stratford has a gorgeous old saloon, and we decided to sit in there to regroup. We told the manager that we understood it was unlikely, but if anything came up, we’d be there in the bar. A historic building, the saloon was rich in souls—exactly the kind of place I like to visit because I often will hear very interesting stories being whispered. As we sat talking, I heard a few of the spirits saying, “Don’t worry. Something is coming for you.” I told John, and he said, “Really?” Smiling, I said, “Yep. Just got the call.” In a few minutes the manager came to find us, pleased to let us know that he’d just gotten a cancellation on a suite—which he let us have for the price of a regular room since we’d been so nice and patient.

Okay, I know
not everyone is the same—on the Other Side we are just as unique and individual as we are here so there are bound to be a wide variety of answers to this question. But I’m going to take a leap here and say:
because they can.

It’s like Henry David Thoreau said: “To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts.” Don’t we all like to do nice things for those we care about? Once we’re over there, there are a whole lot more people that we care about. Definitely we are each tied to particular souls in a special way, but we also understand that we are all one, and we see the ripple effect of every good deed. From the Other Side, the Dead see everything clearly. They see how all the pieces here fit together, who did what for whom and why. And I really think they do appreciate any nice thing anyone did for them while they were here.

At one of my big shows in New Jersey I was moving down the aisle to speak with someone near the back of the room, but I came smack up against this wall of energy, or rather sound. This is a little hard to describe, but it’s actually more an “audio” phenomenon than a physical one. It’s a matter of a soul getting so loud that I can’t hear anything else. When I can’t hear properly I get confused. They stop my stream of thought, like when you are talking to someone on your cell phone on the street and you walk by a jackhammer doing roadwork, or an ambulance or fire truck goes by. So there was a very powerful spirit who did not want to let me pass until I found his loved one and allowed him to pass on a message. It didn’t take me long to identify his wife right next to where he’d stopped me in my tracks. He was a very odd energy, very forceful, maybe trying to be funny, but not really succeeding, or succeeding in a weird way. He was a character. He wanted me to tell his wife he was saying thank you to her because all his life he had been misunderstood. She was the only one who really “got” him. In a very real way, she protected him. A lot of times he’d find himself in the middle of some situation because of something he’d said or done and she’d be the one explaining him out of it. She’d say, “He didn’t mean it like that, it’s just his way, he has a good heart,” and so forth. He knew she always did that for him and he appreciated it. He wanted to be sure she knew how much he appreciated it. Poet Maya Angelou once said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” That seems right to me. We all want to feel understood and loved. And we remember those who have made us feel that—even after we’ve crossed to the Other Side.