Yesterday I went to the Arlington Metaphysical Chapel for a reading with the Rev. F. Reed Brown. I'd heard about the Rev. Brown, a clairvoyant, from friends who'd had readings and made the appointment several months ago when I was grieving the loss of my friend, Chris. Although I'm a skeptic in metaphysical matters, I guess I'd hoped to get a personal message delivered directly from Chris to me via Rev. Brown. When you're sad you seek comfort where you can.
Driving to my reading, I vaguely imagined a house or storefront in a seedy city neighborhood with a flashing "Psychic Readings" sign, so was relieved to discover the chapel was a fairly low-key, church-like building with an unassuming sign in a neighborhood of neatly kept houses.
After parking, I entered the church through the rear door where I saw an older gentleman in the tiny reception area who, with an added beard and costume could easily pass for Santa Claus. He introduced himself as I came in the door and it turned out to be the Reverend F. Reed Brown. I liked him immediately.
I took a quick inventory of my surroundings. The interior resembled a church in miniature: to the left of the reception area, an aging "Olive Oil" was busy moving papers around the desk of her closet-sized office. Directly in front of me, a door lead to a small dark chapel with heavy wooden church pews, and to the right, an empty office with a desk and two chairs: one in front and one in back of the desk.
The Rev. Brown directed me to the empty office. He remained in the reception area while I hunkered over a white index card onto which I wrote (per Rev. Brown's instructions) the names of four people that had "passed" and as many questions as I wanted or that could fit onto the card. Then I was supposed to fold the card several times to conceal what I'd written.
For my dead people, I wrote "Chris Abowd, Ruth Becker, Harry Becker, and Tom Patnode." My questions filled the 
card completely. In general I asked questions about pressing issues in my life. Being a skeptic, I purposely dashed out the names and questions in barely readable handwriting making it difficult to decipher. When I was done, I squeezed the folded card in my palm as instructed and announced I was ready.
The Rev. Brown came into the office, closed the door, and sat in the chair behind the desk. He put a cassette tape in his recorder to record our session (I later got the tape). He then held my hands (with the folded card tucked between my palm and his), said a prayer, and then released my hands, clutching my card in his right hand. He closed his eyes and moved his left middle finger across his forehead and appeared to be in deep thought. My eyes never left that folded card and I could see a small segment of my scribble on it as he continued to hold it in view for the remainder of the session.
After a moment, he appeared to be chatting with someone over his shoulder and then said, "Ruth – does the name Ruth mean anything to you?" Yes, I said, but offered no other information or facial clues to help him out. Then, to my complete jaw-dropping surprise, he said, "this is not your mother Ruth, because I'm getting that she's still amongst the living, this must be your grandmother Ruth." Now how did he know my mother's name was Ruth? If he'd somehow managed to read my card, and I still don't see how he could, he would have seen my grandmother's name, Ruth; but no where had I mentioned that my mother shared the same name. Without any prodding or input from me, he trailed off on a story about how he'd chosen a nursing home for his mother including how he'd managed to stretch her dwindling dollars to cover her lifetime of care. He then seemed to be catching himself and said, as if he was absolutely baffled, "why am I telling you this?" Curiously, his story offered insight into one of my more pressing questions, which was what to do with my mother.
He had my attention. I watched as he returned to his trance and apparent conversation with someone over his shoulder..."Becker," he announced, then looking at his appointment card for my name and noting it was not "Becker" said he was getting a strong, strong sense of the name "Becker". I'd written that name twice on my index card, once for my grandfather and once for my grandmother. How was he getting this?
As our session moved along, he offered general insight about my life in general: "Don't make any changes in your life right now; you are about to meet someone stable; you will be okay financially; I'm getting a good aura from you; don't start a new business right now, don't sell your business, etc.."
Then finally the reason for my visit. "Chris" he said, "I sense the spirit of Chris with us." Tears sprung to my eyes without warning. I was about to get my long-awaited message. Then, "does the name 'Esther' mean anything to you?" Huh? What about my message? I do
n't know any Esther's. What does this have to do with Chris? Maybe he misunderstood and meant to say "Ingster," a private nickname Chris and I had for a mutual - and now dead friend, Nola. If he meant "Ingster," maybe Chris really was communicating something to me, since not another person on earth knows that name. I didn't let on this possible connection or say, "do you mean 'Ingster'?" though I longed for him to reveal more about Chris. He just said the name again and again, rolling it on his tongue like he was trying to grasp it's significance. He seemed confused that I didn't know "Esther." He paused to think, or I supposed to chat with Chris, and then said, "When you dream of someone who has passed, write it down. They are communicating with you." Then, "Who are you going to Michigan with?" Was this my message from Chris? If so, I was sadly disappointed or else was not getting the significance.
My session with the Reverend F. Reed Brown lasted about 30 minutes and didn't include any obvious messages from the dead, except from my grandmother who "was with me all the time." This is a fact, by the way. My grandmother's favorite things surround me everyday and by association, so does she. But no messages to ponder or life-changing prophecies to cling to. Nonetheless, my session was interesting, provoking, and somewhat amazing.
How did he do it?
