As Ian and I were driving home last night after his veterinary shift, we made a short detour to grab a few items at a grocery store along the way. This market is in an area of town hit especially hard by homelessness and addiction; even driving through this merchant’s lot is a harrowing experience, with panhandlers and those in the throws of narcotic abuse everywhere. We quickly purchased what we needed, then got back on the road.
We had driven less than a quarter mile from the market, when I saw my husband slump over in his seat suddenly, his seat belt the only thing keeping him from collapsing completely onto the floor of our vehicle. Not able to pull over instantly, I shouted Ian’s name repeatedly while shaking his shoulders with my right hand. He just bobbed, temporarily unresponsive. A surge of adrenaline flowed through me as I struggled to bring him back to consciousness. “Ian!” I shouted, several times. He finally began to come out of it.
In a weak voice, speech slurring, he said he experienced a sudden rush of fentanyl, which knocked him out. Neither of use use opioids (or illegal drugs of any kind), so I wasn’t sure how this had happened. Did he touch something contaminated in the grocery store? He had passed an individual actually shooting up in one of the isles where an item on our list was located. Could this person have spread fentanyl on a freezer door handle, which my husband then touched?
Deeply concerned, I continued shouting at Ian, trying earnestly to keep his attention focused and help him fight the effects of the drug, while I searched for a spot where I could pull over. He recovered quickly, and told me he was going to be okay. Shifting my attention from his face and back to the road, I pressed him to communicate what he was feeling.
He told me a dead man was crossing the road, and that our car drove right through him. The passenger seat was directly in the path of the spirit, and for a split second, the ghost passed through Ian’s body at thirty-five miles per hour. In the blink of an eye, Ian physically felt the rush of fentanyl which had taken this man’s life. His briefly unconscious mind reacted the same way as the addicts we see on the streets of our city: we call it the “fentanyl fold”, where individuals slump over, unconscious but still standing, as their brains receive a blast from the highly potent and addictive substance.
“Is the spirit still in the car?” I asked urgently. “I don’t want to bring it home with us!”
“No,” he replied, the haze in his mind and body diminishing. Ian didn’t think the spirit was aware we had driven right through it. “He was just minding his own business and crossing the street, that’s all. He was an addict; that’s how he died.”
We continued the short ride home in silence, as Ian focused his attention on gathering all of his strength back, and replenishing his energy field which had been momentarily depleted. When we arrived at our house, I performed a cord-cutting ritual with sage smoke, to make sure any attachments which may have been left behind by the spirit were removed, released and dissolved.
As a paranormal researcher, I find it fascinating that spirits can actually manifest physiological sensations within themselves and others, tied to the circumstances in which they died. This ghost crossing the street last night was the victim of a fentanyl overdose, and his spirit is still in the throws of the high which killed him. This is significant. Not only can human spirits re-live the psychological moment in which they died, they can also feel what was happening at the time of their death. Whether it was an act of violence, suicide, substance misuse or other factors, spirits who remain stuck in their death state experience more than just a mental image or memory. They can, either intentionally or otherwise, re-live sensations associated with their lives. Watching my husband do the “fentanyl fold” and pass out during the psychic rush of an opioid, was a disturbing and frightening occurrence—especially without any warning.
The transference of debilitating drug sensations is a new one for us. We have encountered many souls trapped in their death state, and even experienced emotions and confusion from the dead. But this is the first time I’ve watched a ghost unwittingly share the effects of a controlled substance with my husband. That momentary exposure was just as powerful as if he had done the drug himself.
This provides more evidence about spiritual life after death. Not only do spirits exist with their sense of self and identity intact, they actually continue to live in every sense of the word: they converse, maintain relationships, communicate with each other, rest, and enjoy the pleasures of life in their spiritual bodies. But there is also a dark side to being dead, in that, depending upon who they were as people and their mental state at the moment of death, they can continue the trauma and physiological impacts of their passing. I’ve noted this specifically with victims of suicide, addiction and homicide.
There is danger in being a physical medium, and one of the reasons individuals with this gift tend to have shorter life spans. Not only do physical mediums communicate with the dead, they share a part of the spirits’ physiology as well. Pain, joy, elation, fear, desire…all of these sensations can be passed onto the medium during contact. Now, I’ve learned that includes the effects of narcotics as well. I will be ensuring Ian closes his abilities when we are passing through areas heavily impacted by addiction, as I care deeply about his safety and well being.