Clairvoyant, Medium and Spiritual Healer

Member of the past life Therapist Association
Smoking cessation diploma

I thought the whole idea of having past lives was exciting in a creepy kind of way – and thought it would be great to see what, if anything, had happened to me in centuries gone by.
So I was delighted to discover a lady in Llandrindod Wells called Suzanne Vane. She offers past life regression therapy along with many other services that have lead to her becoming a regular fixture on Talk Radio. I arrived at Suzanne’s house one Friday morning feeling as nervous as I ever had been for anything. I hadn’t ever been hypnotised before, so was slightly worried that Suzanne wouldn’t be able to carry out the regression on me.
Upon meeting her, Suzanne put me at ease and I felt calm and confident. Following a cup of coffee, I was taken to her office and began relaxing in a reclining chair. There was no turning back now.
Suzanne told me to picture myself in a relaxing garden, where everything was clam, before I was led to a corridor in my mind with a row of doors.

The first door I came to appeared to have “1872” above it. I was told to go inside and there is where my first past life was awaiting me. On the other side if the door I was greeted by a rather grand dining room, decorated with large mirrors and wooden tables, laid out with fine cutlery.
Suzanne guided me over o a mirror so I could describe myself to her. My name was Peter and I was 12 years old. I had short brown hair and dark eyes and was dressed in a pair of working boots, grey shorts and a dirty shirt. She told me to look out of the window, where I could see large, stretching lawns with trees and flowers in bloom. I told Suzanne that I was at the house to work and should be quiet and get on with the job, cleaning up the large fire place in the centre of the room. My life as peter was then forwarded to a significant moment.
This time I was sat in the living room of Victorian home. It was very small, but it felt friendly. I was married to a lady called Sarah and we had a baby called Charlotte, who I was scared, was going to die because of harsh winter weather and the cold house. This situation left me feeling quiet shaken, so Suzanne forwarded me on again, to the following spring. Everything was much calmer now. Charlotte had pulled thought fine, and my brother had given me a new grey suit to wear ready for my first ay working as an assistant at Wilson’s Funeral Directors. I was feeling happy, proud I had managed to get a job with a respectable income, and delighted my brother had given me one of his smart suits to wear on my first day. I was finally moved on to my death as Peter. I was sat in the chair next to the fire, where I had been sat years earlier as a younger man, worried about the health of Charlotte, who by this time was looking after me with her grandchildren.It was early 1900’s and there was a great sense of relief and happiness washing over me as I passed away. I was now back in the corridor and looking for another door. I found one for 1942. I walked inside and was this time met by a blue, simple bedroom.
I was 10-year-old Thomas, living in Coventry. I described in detail how I was sat in my bedroom – plain, with just a few games in the corner and a metal bed – annoyed that I had been sent to my room by my mother for dropping orange juice on the floor. My crime was eating jam sandwiches and not mopping the split juice up. I cast a glance outside and could see my brother, Robert, and sister, Polly, playing gleefully with friends, while I sat moodily on my hard, cold bed.
Suzanne told me to then head to the next significant moment in my life as Thomas and it came as early as later on the same year. It was 1942, it was dark and we were all terrified. The shrill noise of the air raid siren echoed around my head as children’s cried filled the room. We were under attack from German bombers. My mother ushered myself, Polly and Robert under the table, into our Morrison Shelter. We waited, prayed that the threat would pass, but were showered with bricks and wood raining down on our heads. I was now very aware of how distressed it was making me feel and Thomas died. Noticing this, Suzanne took me out of that life and asked if I wished to come back to my present life. I did. As I was on my way back, Suzanne calmed me and told me to take all the positive from the two previous lives I had visited. When I was back fully awake it worked because I had an incredible feeling of happiness and calm about me. I felt better about myself than I had for a very long time. I was surprised with how much you can take from the therapy. It’s made me a much more positive person and I’m delighted that I underwent it. It’s something that had changed my outlook on life.

FOLLOWING my regression therapy,

I decided to conduct some research into my two past lives to see if I could find any facts to back up what I had said. What I found had shocked me, as parts of my life as Thomas, the 10-year-old from blitz-ravaged Coventry, are adding up perfectly. When I came out of the therapy and listened back to the recording of my time as Thomas, I spoke about how it was 1942 – I was quiet clear – and I was killed in an air raid. To my dismay, I found out that Coventry was mainly attacked in 1940. I decided to look into this further and found a list of people who had died in bombings in Coventry. Nothing prepares me for seeing the name Thomas Edward Ball, son of Edward and Clara Beatrice Ball, killed in an air raid aged 10. The list went on to say that Thomas resided at 1 Bull Yard and is buried in London Road Cemetery, Coventry. Finding this information was quiet breathtaking, especially if this is the lad who died under the Morrison Shelter (a bomb shelter constructed to be used in the home, often as a table) I spoke in such detail about. Sadly, I am yet to find out much information about my time as Peter, the Victorian chimney sweep, who went on to work in a funeral parlour. I described during my regression that I was about to start working at Wilson’s Funeral Directors, and a quick internet search brought two results, one being JN Wilson in Carnforth, Lancashire, in business since 1860. I have contacted the current staff at JN Wilson, who are looking to see if they can find record of Peter.