The Truth? A Paranormal Journey by Werner Voets

The Beginning

On the way home I kept thinking about the mysterious phone call. It had been weeks since I last heard from Pépé (which is what I call my granddad). What could be that important that he’d call me at work? He sounded different. Excited.

‘You’re ready, Eedoo,’ he had told me eagerly. ‘It’s time for you to learn The Truth. Could you stop by, tonight?’

What did it mean? What on earth was on his mind?

Was he just looking for company? After all, he was ninety one. Whatever his reasons were, he had made me curious.

As I took the exit from the highway, I looked up his number and called him.

‘This is me,’ he answered. ‘Who am I speaking to?’

‘Pépé, it’s me, Eedoo. Is it alright with you if I come over already? We could go grab a bite, or I could buy some takeout from the Chinese and bring it along?’

‘Let’s go and eat something together. That sounds like an excellent idea. When will you be here?’

‘I’m at the Concert Hall at the moment. I should be there in about five minutes. I assume you still live at the same address?’

‘I do. Next time I’ll be moving, it will be to the graveyard,’ he joked.

It was getting hotter in the car. A ray of sun had made its way through the dark barrage of gray clouds that had been covering the country all day. A female police officer was smiling as people haphazardly crossed the wide avenue on their way to some concert.

Pépé was waiting for me at the door. His face was beaming. While I was parking the car, I noticed he was impatiently rubbing his hand, and talking to himself.

‘Come on in, come,’ he said as he strode backward. ‘How are things at work? Busy?’

‘Yes,’ I replied slightly irritated because I didn’t feel very good in my new job.

I walked into the living room and took a seat at the table. ‘We’ve got a partner meeting tomorrow, for which they will need many reports. Hard to believe how those people can juggle statistics. And what is it good for? Anyway... it’s their company.’

‘I thought you were a programmer.’

‘I’m starting to think I should have stuck to that.’

‘Time for a change,’ Pépé chuckled.

‘I have just changed jobs. I don’t get it. I’m working for a great company, but somehow I just can’t seem to fit in. Even though I had imagined it would be right up my alley.’

‘And you really don’t know why?’

‘No. I can’t put my finger on it. I have a decent income, a smart looking company car, great colleagues – everything you could ask for in a job. And yet I feel I don’t belong there. It’s as if I’m not supposed to be there; as if I’d have to be doing something else, but I don’t know what. It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘I said you were ready!’ Pépé had a twinkle in his eyes.

Suddenly I felt a wave of warmth rolling over me. Time seemed to stand still. An image flashed through my mind. A being, filled with love, light and warmth was standing behind me, and put its hand on my shoulder. I felt a gentle sensation, electric-like, flow through my body. When I turned around, it had disappeared.

‘Did you see that?’ I exclaimed as I put my hands on the table and pushed the chair backwards with my legs.

Pépé just continued grinning, but didn’t say a word.

What had just happened? Was stress getting the better of me? Or was it my imagination? It couldn’t have been. It seemed so real. Surely I couldn’t muster such feelings. Or could I?

Pépé turned around and put his coat on. ‘Let’s go and get something to eat first.’

‘Do you have any tables available?’ he asked the young lady who had come to welcome us as we entered the Chinese restaurant.

‘Do you have any reservations?’ she inquired very politely, while gently bowing.

‘De Wulf,’ he replied. ‘Two people.’

‘Table sixteen,’ she said promptly. ‘Next to the fish tank. Please follow me.’

The restaurant was almost empty. The young lady guided us to our table, and then took our coats.

‘Would you like anything to drink?’ she asked as she handed us our menus.

‘We’ll have a bottle of Champaign,’ Pépé answered dryly.

There was a short silence, as we studied the menu.

‘Your Champaign,’ the young lady said, as she solemnly leaned forward. ‘Have you made your choice yet?’

‘We’ll take the Chinese Rice Table for two,’ Pépé replied without consulting me. ‘And may The Truth prevail.’

I shook my head, raised my glass, and took a sip.

‘Now do tell me what in Heaven’s name you are going on about?’

‘Where do I start” he asked himself out aloud. ‘It all started the day your grandmother died.’ He paused for a while. A tender, loving smile appeared on his face.

‘I’ll never forget the moment she died. One morning, the doctor called. He told me she could leave any moment now. As fast as I could I got into my car and drove over to the hospital. When I arrived, she was staring at the ceiling. A radiant expression covered her face.’

‘Mum is here,’ she said and turned her head toward me.

I was a bit shocked when she said that, since her mother had passed away more than twenty years before.

‘She’s asking me to join her,’ she whispered. ‘I asked her to wait a while longer, until you were here.’

My throat clammed up. She lay there so peacefully and relaxed.

The ceiling had caught her attention again. ‘I’m coming,’ she said as she turned her head once more to me. ‘You’ve been a good husband.’ She smiled, as she looked for my hand, and pressed her lips. I promptly gave her a kiss.

‘I can feel your love, really feel it,’ she continued. ‘You’re a handsome man, and I will always love you. But there is one thing I want you to promise me.’

She looked me straight in the eyes, and I started to melt.

‘Please try and get to know more about spirituality and the realms of spirits. Mum told me you could learn to communicate with me, if you’d like to.’ She put her head on the pillow as if she was preparing to go to sleep, and peacefully closed her eyes.

‘I’m ready now,’ she whispered softly, as she breathed her last breath.

‘And what happened next?’ I blurted out, without thinking.

‘I talked about it to several people. Everybody thought I was mad. Your mother thought I had lost the plot. She told me I was going senile and that I shouldn’t raise false hopes in people like that.’

There was a short silence.

‘At a given moment, I decided to attend a séance which was being conducted in a local pub,’ Pépé said, as if awaking from a nap.

‘In a local pub?’ I repeated laughingly.

‘It happens. Many of those pubs have a room in the back that can be used.’

‘A room in a pub doesn’t seem like the ideal place to be conducting a séance to me.’

‘It doesn’t really matter where it is done. What’s important is the medium,’ Pépé responded. ‘During the séance the medium pointed at me. She said I had the gift of automatic writing. She told me to try it out a couple of times so I could understand what she meant. The next evening I sat down with a pen in my hand, staring at an empty sheet of paper. After a while my hand started moving, but the only thing that appeared was a line filled with little u’s. I felt so ridiculous that I nearly decided to never try again. The only reason I ended up trying again anyway, is because I had promised your grandmother.’

‘And did you succeed?’ I asked with a mocking undertone.

‘One evening, I was sitting at the table when once again my hand started moving. Only this time, a sentence appeared, “I am here, Helen.” I thought I was deceiving myself. Maybe, subconsciously, I was pulling my own leg. My hand instantly started moving again, and this time the text “No, not your subconscious. Helen.” appeared on the sheet. I thought I was losing it. I couldn’t believe that your grandma was writing. But again my hand moved. ‘You’re not losing it. It is me, Helen.”

Angrily I pushed my pen away, and it rolled over to the other side of the desk. How could I be kidding myself like that? Why would I be inflicting hurt on myself by believing nonsense like this?’

His eyes drifted off to the Champaign glass he was twirling between his fingers.

‘You probably think I’m insane,’ he said. ‘Most people do. I even thought so on occasions. Nobody ever wanted to listen. Let the old fool carry on, they must have thought. But I never should have gone to Eddy. That has been my biggest mistake.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, confused.

‘Well, after a while I started writing down several messages a day.’

‘You’re still talking about that automatic writing, right?’

Pépé put down his glass on the table. ‘Right! At first I doubted the authenticity of the messages. I asked your grandmother to give me some proof that she was writing the texts, and that they were not merely the figments of my sick imagination. So she gave me a lot of information that only she and I could have known. But of course that still didn’t exclude the possibility that I had been writing the texts all along. And then she wrote, “In the attic there is an old casket. In that casket, at the bottom, on the right, you’ll find the red scarf you gave me for my twenty first birthday.” ’

‘So, did you check it out?’

‘Of course, I did.’

‘And?’

‘She was right. The casket was underneath several cardboard boxes. When I opened it, I could see a glimpse of red on the right. I pushed some of the content to the side, and there was the red scarf.’

‘Yeah, right,’ I reacted, half-mockingly.

‘Wait, I’m not finished yet,’ he continued. ‘I still had my doubts. And then the next day she wrote “The bottom drawer of the dresser has a false bottom. You have to pull it out as if it is a drawer, too. There you’ll find twenty diaries, all mine.”

‘I don’t believe it.’

‘It’s true. I opened the dresser, found the hidden compartment, complete with the twenty diaries; all written by your grandmother.’

I leaned backward. ‘So you can communicate with spirits?’

‘I know it’s hard to believe,’ Pépé said.

‘Well, it’s taken me by surprise,’ I responded. ‘I had all these questions running around in my head, and here you are, telling me you are a medium.’

‘I said you were ready,’ Pépé uttered while grabbing his glass of Champaign. ‘They asked me to tell you The Truth.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I asked, irritated.

Pépé leaned forward. ‘After I had received a number of messages from your grandmother, I started getting the knack of automatic writing. By then I had also received messages from my father and my grandmother, Ann. My evenings had gotten quite busy. The only thing I did was communicate with all of them. Until that fateful evening.’

Pépé leaned forward even further, and looked around to make sure nobody was near.

‘I don’t really know how to tell you this,’ he whispered. ‘I’m afraid you’ll think I’m completely insane.’

‘Why would you assume something like that? You haven’t even told me anything yet.’

‘I know for how long I had my doubts.’

‘You just told me that they had asked you to tell me the truth. If they, whoever “they” may be, would have thought that I wouldn’t believe you, why would they have asked you to tell me in the first place?’

Pépé looked at me from head to toe. He remained calm and folded his hands. ‘All right, then,’ he began. ‘That night I got a message from Jesus.’

I burst out laughing. ‘Form Jesus?’

‘I said you wouldn’t believe me,’ Pépé replied, severely disappointed.

‘Are you serious?’ I tried to change the tone of the conversation.

‘Do you enjoy being ridiculed?’ he asked very seriously. I shrugged, and then shook my head.

‘Do you think I enjoy being ridiculed?’

I didn’t have to answer to know he was serious about this.

‘He told me he needed me to convey important information to humanity. He asked me to let go of my prejudices, and that he would tell me all about the Way of The Truth.’

‘So what did you do?’ I asked, with growing interest.

‘I continued to doubt,’ he said quietly. ‘In the end it was your grandmother who persuaded me. She asked me to get over my doubts. She told me not to be afraid, that this wasn’t some spirit playing a game on me. What really convinced me was a message that went something like this, “Do you remember what you hated the most? That people would judge you or jump to conclusions without hearing your side of the story. Aren’t you doing the same thing now?” ’

‘So, if I understand correctly, that’s when you started getting a series of messages that were called “The Truth”?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘Have you got them on hand, somewhere?’ I inquired with growing curiosity.

‘No,’ he said. ‘The reason for that is simple.’ Pépé took the bottle of Champaign and topped up our glasses.

‘After a while I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm anymore and started talking to some friends about the messages. Pretty soon, they got obsessed with The Truth as well. Word started spreading that séances were being held at my home, and that messages were being received from Jesus and other well-known people.’

‘Other well-known people?’ I repeated enthusiastically.

‘I’ll get into that later,’ Pépé continued. ‘Anyway... One day I received a letter in the mail. It was an invitation Eddy had sent. “Very important” the envelope mentioned. Blissfully ignorant, I went to the rendez-vous the next day, only to find out that Bishop Jacobs was there as well...’

‘Mister De Wulf,’ the bishop said. He was wearing a long purple robe, as if he had just performed a funeral mass. His attitude was authoritarian. He indicated with his hand that I should sit down. ‘I’ve learned from Eddy that séances are being held at your home.’

‘That is correct,’ I responded. ‘Is there anything wrong with that?’

‘I was told that you claim to receive communications from Jesus. Is that correct?’ the bishop continued without paying any attention to my question.

‘From Jesus and from many others. Is there anything wrong with that?’ I repeated my question.

‘Could I have a look at those communications?’

His attitude was getting on my nerves.

‘Why? Do you think I’m doing something wrong?’

‘I’m just curious about the content of these communications. Does that surprise you?’

‘No,’ I answered, somewhat shaken because he kept ignoring my question.

‘So could I have a look at them?’ he reiterated his question.

‘Sure,’ I answered politely. ‘When?’

‘I am here, right now. It makes sense to do it now, rather than having to come back for it, doesn’t it?’

The bishop got up and pointed at Eddy to open the door.

He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Let’s go. I am eager to find out what those communications are all about.’

Some minutes later we were standing in my living room, and I gave him some texts to look at. He took them, and placed them in his lap, without paying any further attention to them.

‘Aren’t you going to read them?’ I asked with a frown.

‘Not at all,’ he smirked.

‘So you had no intention whatsoever to learn about The Truth,’ I sighed. ‘All you wanted was to get your hands on the texts.’

The bishop burst out laughing. ‘Right you are. These texts of yours are causing too much commotion, Mister De Wulf. People are starting to ask questions. If I were you, I’d put an end to those séances.’

I was taken aback. ‘Why?’ I asked.

The bishop put the texts in a plastic bag. ‘The world doesn’t need this, Mister De Wulf. There is already too much separation among the different beliefs. Let us stick to what we know, and agree on that. That’s already hard enough as it is.’

‘That’s exactly where The Truth can play an important role.’

The bishop got up and made his way to the door. ‘I disagree. We think you are possessed and that you are trying to steer the faithful off the right track. That is the message that I personally will spread in town.’

‘You can’t keep people from learning The Truth.’

The bishop stopped in his tracks, turned around briskly and looked me straight in the eyes. ‘The truth? Who says this is the truth? And even if it was, people don’t want to know about the truth. They only want to hear what they want to hear. Do you honestly think people will choose your side, a deluded freak who claims to receive messages from spirits? What do you think they’d prefer, to become the target of mockery themselves, or to join in mocking you?’

‘Don’t you want to know The Truth?’ I asked.

‘I know the truth,’ he responded. ‘And it’s not up to me to question it.’

‘You had better’ I reacted promptly.

‘I hope I did get through to you, Mister De Wulf, and that you got the message,’ the bishop said with menace in his voice. ‘Goodbye.’

Eddy shoved me roughly aside, causing me to fall down heavily on the floor; then he closed the door.

I gave Pépé a puzzled look. ‘Didn’t you get up and run after them?’

‘Why would I?’ he asked with a grin.

‘To get the texts back, of course,’ I countered upset.

Pépé burst out laughing. ‘Now you didn’t believe for one second that I would actually be stupid enough to give the original texts, did you? I gave them some of your grandmother’s old diaries. I suspected all along something wasn’t right.’

‘So where are the texts now?’ I asked with an inquisitive smile.

‘They’re scattered all over the place. Some are kept by some interesting spiritual friends.’

‘Some interesting spiritual friends?’ I repeated.

‘Yes. One is in the hands of a psychic, another with a healer, one with a public speaker, and one with Jean, my best friend. He has helped a lot of people with their transition.’

‘Aha,’ I said, both amused and intrigued. ‘And did the bishop ever return?’

‘Both he and Eddy have threatened me on several more occasions. And they have tried to obtain the texts, but thus far, they haven’t succeeded.’

‘So who is this Eddy character, anyway?’

‘Eddy used to be a friend of mine. We exchanged ideas on The Truth on a regular basis. He had asked me to publish the texts, and wanted me to hand them over to him for that purpose.

I felt something wasn’t right about his request and told him I’d sleep on it, and let him know. When, later that evening, I asked for advice, Jesus told me it was better not to go ahead because Eddy lacked the right motivation. He wanted to publish it under his own name and get all the credit as well as the profits. When I confronted him the next morning, he threw a tantrum and went straight to the bishop.’

I shook my head. ‘Some friend!’

Pépé just shrugged. ‘Can’t do anything about it. It’s his life, not mine.’

‘What’s the first chapter about?’ I asked, as Pépé was slurping up his last spoon of soup.

‘The first chapter is about Jesus. He thought it would be a good idea to tell a bit more about himself. That way, I could get to know him better, as well as learn how to open up to him.’

I stared blankly at Pépé. ‘Learn how to open up to him?’

‘Yes,’ Pépé replied. ‘You understand that these messages don’t just manifest by themselves. If somebody from the spirit world wants to communicate with you, there has to be a rapport between you and that person.’

‘A rapport?’

‘There is a law that governs the communications between man and spirit. It’s called “The Law of Rapport and Communication.” You can compare it to the principle of “like attracts like.” Within the spirit world, thoughts are very important. What you must realise is that we, as human beings, consist of three different parts, a physical body, a spiritual body and a soul.’

‘Where does that leave the astral body or the etheric body?’ I asked.

‘Let’s just call those “spiritual body”.’

‘All right. So what is the soul then?’

‘Over the ages, the actual meaning of the word soul has faded and has been generalized, and as a result most people use the word without really knowing what it truly means. The most important thing to comprehend is that the soul is something completely separate and independent of any other body.’

I didn’t get it, and the look on my face gave me away.

‘It is the most important thing we have. Just wait until you read the chapter on the soul. I’ll give you further details then.’

Pépé paused. He could see I was reflecting on what he said.

‘Let me try and explain the law in a different way. Imagine I’m a musician. I love music, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in finding out how musical instruments work, from a technical point of view. At a party, I’m introduced to two people, one is a musician, and the other a technician. Who do you think will draw my attention?’

‘The musician.’

‘Exactly. And why?’

‘Because you are more interested in music than in the technical aspects of it.’

‘Makes sense, doesn’t it? It’s the same way between man and spirit. If, as a man, you are interested in spiritual matters, you will attract spirits that are interested in spiritual matters. If, as a man, you are interested in sciences, you will attract spirits who share that interest in sciences. Spirits enjoy sharing their knowledge with others, and because of that they also talk to people. They know they will get through as long as they share an affinity for the subject at hand.’

In a way, this made sense, but I still thought the whole thing was ludicrous. It must be quite a carnival, then, with all those spirits constantly hopping around us.

‘Does that also apply to interests that are less positive?’

‘Of course. Like attracts like. If you enjoy inflicting pain on others, you will attract spirits that will encourage you to do so. After all, they enjoy it as well, and they take pleasure in the fact that you’re willing to do it with them.’

‘So why do these people get the gift of being a medium?’

‘Did you think spirits only interact with mediums?’ Pépé asked laughingly.

‘Yes,’ I replied hesitantly.

‘You silly pumpkin!’ he laughed. ‘Mediums have the gift of hearing or perceiving what spirits say or do. But that doesn’t mean that spirits only talk to mediums. Every day, everybody is influenced by the spirit world.’

‘What?’ I shouted out. ‘Do you mean to tell me that all of us are under the influence of spirits that presumably wander around among us?’ I couldn’t believe my ears. That simply couldn’t be true.

‘I know it’s hard to believe,’ he replied.

‘Hard to believe,’ I snapped. ‘Now that’s an understatement!’

‘Many people refuse to believe it because it undermines their quiet little lives. It takes away their sense of security. The idea that we’re never really alone, and that there might be a spirit around, talking to us, is terrifying to most people.’

I shook my head. ‘Don’t you think you’re taking this a bit too far, Pépé?’

‘No, but I can perfectly understand your reaction. I won’t hold it against you.’

Pépé glanced at the ceiling, carefully weighing his words.

‘If spirits really exist, then what do you think they are?’

‘People who died,’ I shrugged.

‘You remember I mentioned it was important to bear in mind that we consist of three different parts?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you remember which ones?’

‘A physical body, a spiritual body and a soul,’ I replied, feeling as if I was taking a test.

‘Keeping that in mind, what would you say a spirit is?’

‘A spiritual body and a soul.’

‘Exactly,’ Pépé replied. ‘The only difference between us and them is that we still have our physical bodies, and they don’t. Then why would it be so hard to accept that they can talk to us and can have influence on us? They’re just the same as us.’

‘Then why can’t we all see them or hear them?’ I retorted, hoping he wouldn’t be able to give me an answer.

‘Because we’ve become too materialistic,’ he commented casually. ‘Each of us has the potential to communicate with the spirit world. We just don’t remember how to. Throughout the ages, people have been burned at the stake, or have been killed in other ways. So out of fear we haven’t developed those abilities, even rejected them. Just mentioning them was no longer allowed. If you did, you ran the chance of being reported. Or people would stop interacting with you, fearing they might be considered a witch or some weirdo. That fear is still very prevalent among people. It has become our habit to ignore those matters, and to ridicule those who don’t. Man is a creature of habit. It requires courage and sacrifices to break habits.

We tend to consider our habits a good thing, for no other reason than that we’ve grown accustomed to them. How often don’t you hear, “We’ve been doing it for years, so it can’t be that bad.” It has become customary to label mediums as freaks. But if you have the courage to closely examine the past, you’ll learn that most habits have more negative effects than positive. Habits often are obstacles to our growth.

What you’ll notice, is that each time we broke with a specific custom, the world became a better place. Just as an example, take human sacrifices to the gods. These days, everybody is filled with horror just thinking about it, yet at some stage in our past, it was considered normal. It’s when we learn to break with traditions and customs that we help make the world a better place.’

What Pépé said was right, yet something in me objected to what he was saying. I sat upright, and sighed deeply. ‘This is beyond me, Pépé! I’m not saying you’re not telling the truth, but it’s all very confusing.’

‘I know the feeling,’ he smiled. ‘But once you start investigating, you’ll keep on getting confirmations of the underlying Truth. Take, e.g., the power of positive thinking. Once we’re familiar with the law, it doesn’t sound ridiculous at all anymore.  When you think negative thoughts, you attract those who will strengthen that negativity. If you’re able to transform your thoughts into positive thoughts, you attract those who will strengthen positivity. Because of that, those who had a negative impact on you lose their influence, and disappear.’

‘Enjoy your meal,’ Pépé said as the young lady put four different dishes on the table.

The dishes were garnished with vegetables that were cut in the shapes of animals and flowers. The food smelled delicious. We both enjoyed our meal, without uttering a single word.

As soon as I had my fill, I continued with my questions. ‘Can you give me any proof with regard to what you’ve told me, or will still tell me, for that matter?’

‘Of course, I wouldn’t dare tell you anything that you couldn’t verify yourself.’

‘So where is the proof?’ I asked.

‘I can’t really explain. You’ll have to experience it by yourself; otherwise you won’t believe it, anyway. It’s something that requires practice, not theory.’ Pépé smiled.

‘You have to learn to walk before you can run. First you should consider whether you’re really willing to find proof. Your whole life will be turned upside down. Nothing will ever be the same again. Are you willing and ready to kiss your cosy little life goodbye and discover The Truth? Or do you prefer to avoid taking any risks so that you are not ridiculed and just blindly accepted by the crowd?

I believe it was Einstein who once said that the loudest critics typically are the ones that are most ignorant about a matter. He was right about that. It’s not because millions or even billions of people don’t know The Truth that it doesn’t exist or wouldn’t be The Truth. Copernicus was exposed to enormous criticism when he expanded upon a theorem of Pythagoras to conclude that the earth rotated around the sun. He even risked capital punishment for going against the established order of things. And today we can hardly believe people could have been so stupid as to believe that the sun rotated around the earth. In the same way, it is sufficient that even one person knows The Truth. If that one person provides proof the whole worldview changes. And that’s why you should never rely solely on what others tell you. You must find your own proof. Until you do, you must question what others tell you. If Copernicus had listened to what others told him, without looking for proof, he would never have found the proof he did.’

We finished our desserts, I took Pépé home, and filled the bath.

It has been a strange day. It had left me with a slight headache. As I got into the bath, I remembered a conversation I once had with a colleague. He told me he had noticed that many people are looking for alternatives for the faith they’ve lost. People had turned their backs on religions because those didn’t provide the answers they were looking for. He had noticed how they started looking for something else and how all of them felt attracted to spirituality. What struck him was that people didn’t dare talk about it in public. But as soon as he would bring the topic up, they would listen intently and questions would start arising. He said he had started to question his own sceptical attitude. The reason was simple. The fact that so many people had doubts, and felt that there must be something more than what we know or see, had made him doubt as well. There must be something to it. More and more people had the courage to talk about their Near-Death-Experiences, or other spiritual experiences. Granted, some of them probably were hoaxers or frauds. But they couldn’t all have been.

So what if my colleague was right? Would that imply that mankind really was ready to learn about The Truth, and had I gotten myself an invitation with a front-row seat to this event? Or was I getting carried away?

I rested my head on the side of the bath tub and relaxed. I saw a scene where my grandmother was walking through a meadow. She was holding my hand firmly and looked at me lovingly. I could smell the poppies and the wet grass. The sun was shining on our faces. For as far as we could see, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. To our left there was a little pond where Pépé was fishing. Grandma took both my hands and gently started spinning me around. I looked at the ground and saw the colours meld into big patches.

I closed my eyes, and it felt like the bath tub was spinning. Suddenly I got the impression I could hear Grandma whisper. ‘Give him the benefit of the doubt. What have you got to lose? Just imagine that he really can give you The Truth? Would you ever be able to forgive yourself later on, should you decide not to listen to him?’

Whether it was a figment of my imagination or not, the little voice was right.