Five months before the separation, I received another warning, this time from Sarah through TDC. Her voice rang out with urgency, as she literally shouted, “Scared for him, I’m screaming!” She had every reason to be frightened.
"Remember you're a monk."
At first, the recording seemed unremarkable, filled with nothing but silence. But then, suddenly, a voice emerged with startling clarity. It sounded like a young female, and the words were unmistakable: “He’s brought us home, he’s ever so tired.” The moment I heard this, I was overwhelmed with goosebumps on top of goosebumps! This recording felt remarkably different from most of my previous TDCs; it had an ethereal quality, something elusive and hard to put into words.
As I sifted through the distorted sounds, patterns emerged, revealing not one but six messages buried in the static. The most chilling of these was unmistakably clear: “Top of the morning, but the future is rough… for now.”
One message, in particular, stood out: “India, the problem is you’re Christian.” Despite not feeling especially Christian—since I rarely attended church or read the Bible—it became clear that the broader universe had a different perspective on my spiritual identity. This message illuminated the disconnect between my personal experiences and the spiritual influences at play.
Intrigued by the initial message and longing to know who I had brought ‘home’, I decided to reverse the sound clip and was astonished to find another equally clear voice, though it sounded distinctly different from the first. This reversed message said, “Listen, listen Roderick, you must acknowledge me.”
Would Dixie’s reading reveal more clues when put through TDC?
The first TDC I uncovered seemed to capture the essence of my life: “There’s a rough track, an unorthodox path.”
My thoughts drifted back to a TDC I had recorded with Sarah while discussing my earlier visit to Sicily with her mother: “I’d love to take Rod home.”
Another particularly intriguing session involved a discussion among Linda, Sarah, and myself about the possibility of past lives. During this conversation, I remarked, via TDC, “I was in love with you,” and my wife responded, “Oh, shut up, we know who you are.” Though her response was somewhat blunt, it was fascinating. What did it mean?
To my utter astonishment, I distinctly heard my father’s voice, a voice I had not heard since his passing in 2002. He spoke directly to me, saying, “Thank God, I walk without them pills.”