Well, I’m not sure it’s my “most amazing” psychic story, but it sure gave me a heck of a wake up call and fine tuned my gifts. Yukon Territory, Canada, December 23, mid-70s.  Just North of Haines.  I woke up in the middle of the night in a hotel room with my then boyfriend.  It took me a few seconds to realize where we were.  It had been a long trip all the way from Las Vegas towing a car behind our truck and we really had been pushing it driving.  We had stopped for the night because white-out road conditions just made travel impossible.  Still sweating and chilled with fright from the nightmare I begged my boyfriend to allow us to stay one more night before moving on.  When he asked me why I wanted to stay I explained that I had just had a dream about us have a really bad accident on the way home.  Scoffing, he got up and got dressed saying that it was past time we hit the road. Feeling a shaking in the pit of my stomach, I got dressed and we went out to check the rig and hit the road.  Over 450 miles later we were pulling into Anchorage with my boyfriend razzing me about the dream.  After unloading the truck and getting rid of the tow bar, we discovered I had left my purse at the restaurant in Delta Junction – hundreds of miles away.  Well, there was three thousand dollars CASH in that purse.  First we called the restaurant and yes they had the purse, and, yes – there was $3,000 in it.  Back in the pick-up truck we went, picking up a friend on the way out of town.  We had no problems at all on the trip.  We got to the restaurant, collected the purse from the sleepy- eyed owner (who stayed up to make us some burgers), and then hit the road back to Anchorage. It was dark – it’s always dark in Alaska on the 23rd of December.  We were coming down the southwestern side of Sheep Mountain north of Palmer.  Suddenly, ahead of us in the road was the biggest set of headlights you’d ever see – the driver (our friend) of our vehicle freaked out and slammed on the brakes – which pretty much lined us up perfectly to be directly in the pat of an International Lodestar 4300 grossing out at about 80,000 pounds.   We hit once-twice-thrice and finally all the terrible noise and chaotic movement ceased.   In three impacts the damage was done.  I felt a breeze on my face and then I was surrounded by a soft, warm, tunnel – floating very fast, but not sensing the movement.  At the end of the tunnel, silhouetted dark against an all-effusive light, was the all-too-missed yet all-too-familiar form of my father.  (Remember, Dad was a tractor trailer driver for most of his adult life and had died several years earlier.)   I floated into his arms and felt them hug me for the first time in almost three years.  After the hug he pushed the hair from my face, and with a bittersweet smile told me that it wasn’t time for me to join him yet – I had to go back.  Somehow I knew he was right.  As I made this realization it was no more than a blink of an eye and I felt the jolt and pain as I returned to my body.   Dad was definitely looking out for us that night.  The frame of our pick up was bent over 13 inches.  The cab had literally folded back onto the bed and sprung partway back.  The crank was shoved through the transmission, and the engine was pushed back by just over a foot.  The dashboard was bowed over 8 inches in the center.  The transmission shift lever was busted off the steering column because the steering wheel was bent down onto the column (that one really hurt – I did that with my teeth!).  The underside of the dash had been pulled into the passenger area by over 10 inches. We were extremely fortunate that night.  Dad truly sent us some great help.  Smoke was still emanating from everywhere and we were just starting to figure out what happened and how to get out of the pick up when a van pulled up to the accident site.  It was the mid-70s and yes, it was a “hippy van.”  We were so thankful.   These wonderful people loaded us bleeding and broken into their van and drove us to Palmer Valley Hospital sixty or so miles away. At the hospital the doctor couldn’t believe that we had lived.  My boyfriend got a broken leg, our friend got some cracked ribs…me, I ended up with lots of surgeries, time in and out of hospitals as they rebuilt my face and guts.  A bowel resection, some plastic surgeries, oral surgeries and all that jazz, I was back to walking and talking.  Through all the surgeries and recoveries there was one thing that made it worthwhile…Dad. When Dad sent me back he told me I still had a lot of work to do.   Ever since the accident I’ve found my gifts are much more pronounced and accurate – and I know that using those gifts to help others is the absolute right thing for me to do.  Ever since I have done my best to do all that I can to help everyone I do readings for.