I’ve decided to start sharing my journey. Not because I have all the answers—far from it—but because sometimes the most honest thing we can do is document our path as we walk it.

My earliest memory of knowing I was different comes from when I was around five or six. I had a friend named Sunshine. While other kids had imaginary friends who played tea party or tagged along to the playground, Sunshine came to me through beams of light. I remember standing in my bedroom, watching as sunlight streamed through my window in ways that nobody else could see. Even then, I thought I was “absolutely insane” (my childhood self’s words). But here’s the thing about childhood—we accept the extraordinary with such beautiful simplicity.

As I grew older, my abilities began to take shape. While many psychics speak of visions or feelings, my gift manifested primarily through sound. Clairaudience, they call it. I hear spirits with the same clarity as if someone were speaking directly into my ear, like wearing a cosmic hearing aid tuned to frequencies most can’t access.

During meditation, I’ve learned to recognize these communications through what I can only describe as a hum—a vibration that accompanies messages that don’t belong to my own consciousness. It’s similar to the buzz you might hear standing under power lines, except this hum carries voices, warnings, and sometimes glimpses of what’s to come.

One of my most vivid experiences happened when I was 16. I woke from a nap, shaken by what felt like more than just a nightmare. I saw my best friend in a fatal car accident—the people she was with, the car they were in, the road they were traveling. The vision was so intense that I immediately called her. I didn’t waste time with pleasantries; I just blurted out, “Don’t get in the fucking car.” What makes this story even more chilling is that she was literally walking out the door to meet those exact people, in that exact car, on that exact road.

But psychic abilities aren’t always so clear-cut. Sometimes I receive impressions that I struggle to interpret correctly. I’ve had dreams of planes falling from the sky and strange thoughts in familiar and unfamiliar places. I’ve made predictions that didn’t materialize as I saw them. Learning to distinguish between regular thoughts and genuine psychic information has been one of my greatest challenges. The key, I’ve found, is in that distinctive hum—that vibration that accompanies information that isn’t mine to keep, but rather to pass on.

I’m starting this Substack as a way to hold myself accountable. There’s more I want to explore, more I want to understand about these abilities. It feels somewhat ridiculous to need external pressure to develop something so personal, but sometimes we need to voice our experiences to fully embrace them.

This will be my journal of sorts—a record of what I see and hear during my meditations, a chronicle of the messages that come through with that distinctive hum, and perhaps most importantly, a honest account of both the hits and misses along the way. Because being psychic isn’t about being perfect; it’s about being open to the extraordinary while remaining grounded in honesty.

Welcome to my journey between worlds. Let’s see what we hear together.