An Angel Set Me Free: And other incredible true stories of the afterlife. Dorothy Chitty
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a folded-up jacket under his head to act as a pillow. I couldn’t understand what the bystanders were saying and wasn’t sure whether he had been knocked over or had just fallen badly, but there was no way we could move our car. We would have to wait until the ambulance arrived and the man was taken away.
Within a few minutes an ambulance pulled up with lights flashing, but the ambulance staff took a long time examining the elderly man where he lay on the ground. They put an oxygen mask on him, listened to his chest and tied splints to his leg. We didn’t have mobile phones back then but my husband went into a public phone box nearby to try to ring the ferry port and tell them we were running late. He speaks a smattering of German and hoped he would be able to make them understand, but he couldn’t get through to anyone who seemed to have a clue what he was saying.
At last, the elderly man was lifted into the ambulance and we were able to jump in our car and get on our way, but by this time we had only forty minutes left to get to the port—Zeebrugge—and we were about an hour’s drive away. My husband put his foot down and did his best to get us there but as we turned the corner into the ferry terminal, we were just in time to see it chugging away.
‘It’s only just gone!’ I moaned. ‘Look—they haven’t even closed the back door yet.’
Dejected, we turned back to the ferry office where we found someone who spoke English but he explained that all the ferries for the rest of the day were fully booked and we wouldn’t be able to get another one until early the next morning. By this stage we were running very short of money but we didn’t know of any campsites in the vicinity so we drove to the outskirts of Zeebrugge where we found a reasonably cheap hotel in a back street and booked in there for our last night.
We all felt a bit flat as we tried to fill the remaining hours of our holiday. I remember hearing lots of police cars and ambulance sirens and wondered if there was some kind of drill going on. A woman was crying in the foyer of our hotel but I didn’t speak the language so couldn’t attempt to ask her what was wrong.
We had an early night and as we set off for the port the next morning I remember seeing a picture of a ferry on the front covers of some newspapers in a newsstand. Still, I thought nothing of it until we arrived at the terminal and found that it was blocked off with police cordons. We got out to ask what was going on.
‘Have you not heard?’ an official told us. ‘The Herald of Free Enterprise sank yesterday as it left the port.’
‘But we were supposed to be on it!’ I exclaimed, and I felt the blood draining from my face.
‘You and ten others missed it,’ he told me.
I was deeply shocked when I heard the whole story. One hundred and ninety-three people died on that ferry and if we had caught it, it could have been one hundred and ninety-seven. Those back doors that I’d noticed were still open as the ferry sailed off had caused it to let in water and sink not long after it left the port. I remembered my mother’s voice in my head and knew that it had been her who saved us that day. I’ve got no doubt about it at all. The suggestion that we should ‘take our time’ just came into my head, in her voice, and it saved my family from drowning in a horrible tragedy. I still feel very shaken whenever I think about it, and overwhelmed with gratitude for the help we received.
I believe that several angels were at work that day to save Marjorie’s family. There was her mother, of course, but there were also the angels who made the café they chose suddenly get busy so as to slow them down, and then the old man’s accident was caused by an angel in a way that also served a purpose in his life. Their time simply hadn’t come and they were not supposed to be on that ferry.
The Red Striped Motorbike
It’s not just mothers and fathers who can come back with warnings. Any relative you were close to can come with a message; I have even heard of great-grandparents who had never actually met the person in question bringing advice, but in those instances they tended to be a well-known family character who everyone was familiar with.
One woman I know got a message from her grandmother and was asked to pass it on to her son. Maybe he wasn’t listening and that’s why his mother had to be the go-between, but this is how it happened.
Sarah had a very disturbing dream one night. She saw a boy’s severed head rolling along the ground in a motorcycle helmet, and she saw the bike lying on its side with red stripes on the bodywork. Her grandmother’s voice came through in the dream, saying, ‘Please don’t get it. Please don’t.’
The very next afternoon her twenty-year-old son Nicolas popped in for tea, looking very pleased with himself.
‘I’ve just put down a deposit on a motorbike,’ he said. ‘I’ve been wanting one for ages and this is perfect, and at the right price too.’
Sarah froze in her tracks. ‘It doesn’t by any chance have red stripes down the sides, does it?’
He stared at her in astonishment. ‘How on earth did you know that?’
She told him about her dream and begged him not to buy the bike. Now, most boys his age wouldn’t listen to their mother going on about a dream they’d had, but Nicolas was a very sensitive boy, and something about her dream struck a chord. He’d been having some dreams himself—vague ones he couldn’t remember well when he woke up in the morning, but he sensed there had been a warning in them.
‘I can’t really afford to lose the deposit,’ he said, ‘but I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ll pay you back the money so long as you promise me you won’t buy the bike.’
She didn’t have to do that, though, because Nicolas asked around amongst his friends to see if anyone else was interested in buying that particular bike. Sure enough, his friend Greg said he’d be delighted—it was exactly the kind of bike he’d been looking for.
And then a month after he took delivery of the bike, Greg was killed in an accident caused by mechanical failure of a crucial part of the bike.
Nicolas was devastated and blamed himself for a while, and his mother came to see me to talk about it all. I explained to her that it had been Greg’s time to die but it hadn’t been Nicolas’s and so there was no point in blame. Even though none of us would want someone we know to come to harm, it’s the law of the universe that there is a time to leave our body, and circumstances will arise at that time in order to help our soul on its journey.
What Nicolas has to do now is work out why his life was saved. There must be some purpose, some mission that he has to fulfil, and he should concentrate on finding that and living the rest of his life well. Sarah told me that he has started talking to his great-grandmother and asking her advice, which is a fantastic idea. I’m sure he’ll go on to live a very valuable life now.
Dodgy Electrics
It doesn’t need to be a blood relative who becomes your guardian angel. Children who were adopted with love may be looked after by their adoptive parent after death. Even if you fell out in later life, the love your parents or relatives had for you as a baby is the important thing. Brothers and sisters, close friends and partners can also become your guardian angel after their death and they will remain so for as long as you need them. The people who care for you in the spirit world will never move on to another life as long as you are still on earth and possibly needing their support. That is their choice, not yours.
After a bereavement, I have often heard of people being told that they have to ‘let go’ and ‘move on’, but this is wrong, because it’s not them holding on. The person who has passed over decides to be with us, in order to help us in our time of need, and they will choose when it is the right time to move on.
There’s a man called Kurt, an actor based in New York and LA, who always comes to me for readings whenever I’m in either of those cities. He told me the following story:
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