JAMES VAN PRAAGH is the New York Times bestselling author of Talking to Heaven and Reaching to Heaven . Currently, Van Praagh is the co-creator and co-executive producer of the primetime series Ghost Whisperer, the #1 CBS drama starring Jennifer Love Hewitt. Van Praagh is developing additional projects for Paramount and guest hosts the entertainment news shows Entertainment Tonight and The Insider . Visit the author online at www.vanpraagh.com.
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BBBNever knew the meaning of life till you showed me how to love.
Linda TomchinThank you, as always, for giving the ghosts a voice.
SamWho understands things in her own way and thats a good thingright?
The KidsYou make me proud to call you my children. Live, love, and prosper!
Cammy FaroneI can never express my appreciation for all you do. Your undying devotion to the Web site and assistance to others to step out of their pain is honorable.
Kelley KreinbrinkI appreciate your being there to pick up the pieces and put them back together.
BernadetteYou are indeed an angel and healer. From the four-legged creatures to the two-legged ones, thank you for sharing your kindness and compassion.
RuthYou are truly the meaning of family. Thank you for being in mine.
ChristianYou are just too much! Thank you for the friendship, the laughs, and the love. I will leave you with that!
Joerdie FisherMom, thank you for living your truth and giving others the courage to look inside to find theirs.
Marilyn JensenBlessings to my one and only Ruby Star.
Peter RedgroveThank you for sharing each step on this earthly sojourn. One day we will look back from the other side and know it was worth it.
Mary Ann SaxonI am blessed to call you a true and honest friend. Christmas will always be ours.
Cindy SchacherWith all your love, support, and sparkles, you would give Tinkerbell a run for her money.
Mary Ann WinkowskiYou are and always will be my favorite ghost-buster. Thanks for keeping your feet on the ground while others are lost in space.
Scott SchwimerThank you for always being there through the years. I am blessed to know you.
Gideon WeilHeaven must have sent you. You are the best editor an author could ever have. Thank you for all your encouragement.
To all the ghosts I met on earthsee you when I get to heaven.
Contents
Chapter One
Growing Up with Ghosts
Chapter Two
Leaving the Body
Chapter Three
Ghosts 101
Chapter Four
The Undead
Chapter Five
The Spirit World
Chapter Six
Everything Is Energy
Chapter Seven
How Ghosts Communicate
Chapter Eight
Some Go Haunting
Chapter Nine
Making Contact
Chapter Ten
Protection
Chapter Eleven
An Enlightened Life
GHOSTS AMONG US : Uncovering the Truth About the Other Side . Copyright 2008 by James Van Praagh. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub Edition APRIL 2008 ISBN: 9780061797651
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Cover design: www.levanfisherdesign.com
To Patricia Ford Bodine
My very first mentor, who taught me that a good ghost story is
not just one that you read, but one that you live.
Im going to freeze to death! I thought to myself as my teeth chattered and my hands and feet grew numb from the cold. Even rubbing my hands together couldnt bring any feeling back. I could not help berating myself, Gee, James, why didnt you wear your overcoat before running out the door? Why did you go in this damn broom closet in the first place? Why did you have to be so nosy? I wonder if anyone else sees them? What do they want? Why wont they leave me alone! I started to shake, not from the cold, but from fear. I was scared, very scared.
That cold November night in the outdoor broom closet was not the first time I had hidden away. The routine seemed to be happening a lot. I wanted to tell someone about the things that I could see. I dont know why I didnt, but in a way it was our secret, and I felt that if I had disclosed what I saw, I might be harmed in some way. No one else was able to see what I could, and half of the time the other kids thought I was just plain crazy. Hiding was my only solace.
Suddenly the door to the outdoor closet opened.
What in the world are you doing in here? You could have frozen to death! Brother Martin shouted. Now get to the dorm and make your bed. Hurry up!
It was seven in the morning. I must have dozed off between the brooms and the rakes. I was fourteen years old and a student at Eymard Catholic Preparatory Seminary. Instead of attending high school, I had decided to become a priest. I was still not sure about my decision, but I thought if I could go to school in a beautiful setting instead of being stuck in a filthy city, then I was all for it. Eymard Seminary was in a pristine location along the Hudson River in Hyde Park, New York. The Franklin D. Roosevelt Library bordered it on the south, and the Vanderbilt Mansion sat at the northern edge of the property. Actually, the seminary was once the Vanderbilts hunting lodge.
The moment my father and mother dropped me off at Eymard that first Sunday in September 1972 I knew something didnt feel right. As soon as my eyes gazed upon the facade of the mammoth stone structure, I felt as if I were choking. Suddenly I heard a womans piercing scream. I turned to my parents and pleaded, I changed my mind. I dont want to go here anymore.
Do you know the sacrifices we made in order for you to attend this school? my father said. My mother did her best to calm me. Its normal to feel scared the first time you leave home.
Okay, I said with some hesitation. I just had to suck it up.
The inside of the mansion was just as menacing as the outside. It looked like something right out of a Vincent Price horror movie, only it wasnt a movie set and I had to live in it. As I walked around the main foyer, I noticed floor-to-ceiling stained-glass windows that cast colorful shadows on the highly polished, rich mahogany floor. The walls were paneled in dark wood. A wide, wooden staircase loomed over the center of the foyer. I could imagine the owners making a regal entrance as they walked down the stairs to the waiting guests below. I felt as if the hunting lodge was a museum consumed by an overwhelming sense of sadness.