Penny – Update 11 January 2018

In 2004, I found out that a dear friend of mine would at some time in the future, end his life. I was devastated! I was also very shaken as I had foreseen something like this happening to him. I told him, but he laughed it off and didn't take me too seriously. My friend’s name is Michael (Mike). He too was a very psychic soul and sadly from about age 19 had become a heroine addict in the punk scene in Wellington. He was much younger than me (9 years) but from the moment I met him when I was 22, there was an immense connection that felt like family. In fact, when I met him, he was only 11 years old! I had a wee shop with my Mum that sold new age books and gifts, crystals and things alike. This young man came in and talked to me about crystals to wear with his school uniform. After a few moments of chatting, he asked me if I had remembered him. I said something like: "Oh have I met you before?" He smiled and said: "Yes but a long long long time ago and not in this life". I was rather taken aback by such a young person having such insight so early.

Anyway, over the years that followed, Mike seemed to keep track of my whereabouts, what shop I had, where I lived and would just randomly stop by. By the time this young man was about 15, it started to feel like he was my little brother and I absolutely adored him. He really understood me, always on my wave length and we even shared the same lifepath numerology number ‘28/10’, which is rare. So, I knew we were of the same 'frequency'. Probably the same soul group. I would always enjoy sharing a coffee and a chat with him.

As we got a little older, we saw more of each other at least weekly. By this time, I knew Mike was an addict. I tried everything I could from my limited knowledge of addiction to help him. Sadly, although he confessed he loved the drugs, the pain killing numbness in his body and how it stopped him feeling anxious, gave him a fake sense of feeling 10ft tall and bullet proof. I knew this would only escalate as he was in denial and only partially wanted to quit. He was living in absolute squalor and seemed oblivious to this. There was in fact no need for him to be either, as he had the most beautiful and kind loving Mum he could ever have. She would bring him bags of groceries often and give him money and was at a loss as to what to do to help her son. Mike’s siblings were school teachers and professional rugby players. I guess she would of wondered where she went wrong.

I myself would visit as I said at least weekly and bring Mike take-out to eat, give him a packet of fags and try to reason with him. His boots had holes in them, as did many of his clothes. He decided to follow a few friends to Auckland and he became a sex worker. This kept him in ‘smack’ quite well and I heard that he become involved with an artist who hurt him emotionally. He never admitted his bisexuality to me which was silly as I already knew!

One night I got a collect call from Mike. He was ringing from a phone box somewhere in Auckland and could barely speak, sobbing his heart out to me. He wouldn't say what had happened, but I shudder to think. I told him to ring his Mum as soon as he was calm and get her to send him some money up and that was he to pack his bags and come home. He did, and returned to Wellington.

Mike tried a few times to quit, once we made an agreement that he would try again and he did try. He rang me from his Mum’s house and when I went to collect him, his Mum said that he appeared to have had a bad cold. It was the beginning of withdrawals. He spent one night at my house and slept well, but was begging me to take him to Wellington the next day. I did, as I felt it wasn't my place to keep him prisoner. So back on the junk it was, and feeble talk about quitting again and I tried to get him to tell his parents to get professional help. He refused. One day he told me about some boots he had seen on sale and since he had holes in his, I gave him money towards them for his birthday. A few weeks later, on the phone I asked him if he got them and he said not yet. I told him I knew he had shot that money up his arm and he said I was a creep for saying that, how rude it was of me and with that, he ended our friendship, just like that. I was pretty damn sad, but I knew the drugs had changed him somewhat.

Two years went by and I always wondered how Mike was doing. Apparently, he had returned to Auckland and I am presuming the street sex worker K-Road scene. I kept having the foreboding feeling that something dreadful would happen to him and I made a very hard decision to ring his Mum and tell her about his addiction. Now it all made sense to her. I told her that he already was not speaking to me and that I really cared about him. I also said that I would rather never see him again as a friend than attend his funeral. She was grateful but devastated. They got him some help and he ended up working in a drug rehab clinic with other people like him. I guess all this got too much for him.

One day in November 2004, I received a phone call from a friend, while I was at work. Antonia, bless her heart, had found out from another friend that Mike had hung himself and that he was dead. Sadly, I missed his funeral as I found out too late.  I left work right away, crying my eyes out and drove straight to Mike’s mother’s house. She let me in and she asked me why she didn't see me at the service two days prior. His Mum told me all the sad details and that he had hung himself.  There was nothing left. He was gone.  That night, I went to bed and had him in my mind and I was determined to find him in the spirit world. I did, but I will save the details of that visit for another story.

Just a few months later, I woke up to a very clear face staring at mine, smiling and shouting: "Wake up!" I had slept in a little and needed to get to work. It was him, Michael. As I drove to work I was very aware that he was in the car with me. I chatted away to him and talked about many things with him. Now there was a road called Grays Road, that I used to drive to get to the house I worked in on Mana Esplanade. Just as I started hitting that road, I noticed my steering wheel was feeling odd. It felt as if my car was sliding, wavering on the road. My first thought was oh geez OK, this old car is going to need some work again and felt I should be a little more careful in the meantime and book it in the next day to get it looked at. A few more kilometres down, I felt the same swerving going on and I started to get really anxious. Michael's energy still in the car with me suddenly yelled out to me, so loud my inner ears were ringing: "SLOW DOWN NOW!!! NOW!!! SLOW NOW!!" So I slowed right down to about 20kms per hour. As I finished the slight uphill part of the road into the residential part of the road, all of a sudden, the car did a huge fast 360-degree turn and literally spun right around and I slammed into a parked vehicle, a flash 4-wheel drive outside a house. I sat there stunned. What the hell happened? It felt like an unseen force had pushed my car and it was so fast. I checked to see if my car still started, it did. I got out, the front end was completely smashed up, glass everywhere. The truck I hit was badly damaged and I was freaking out about that. I knocked on the door of the house where the vehicle belonged, the owner was very kind and understanding and gave me a cup of tea and a fag. I was just about to ring my boss, when some cops came past and stopped. They told me there had been a major oil spill of the road and that there had been several accidents, then they took off. I suddenly realised what might have happened. If I had not listened to my friend in spirit and slowed right down, I am certain I would probably be dead on that corner.

I knew my friend had possibly saved my life. Bless him.

Thank you my friend. Always in my heart.

Michael David Fairbrother

Sept 1980 - Nov 2004.

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