Georgek
George
The Black Friar of Wollaton Nottingham
It was 31st January 1965 as I recall and we were playing in a field on a road called Lambourn Drive in Wollaton Nottingham.
We were having a game of 'Hide and Seek' by which it was my turn to shut my eyes and to guess where my brother and his friend were hiding in that field?
There was not much to hide as the field consisted of long grass a fence at the back and perhaps one or two dead trees?
I would say the approx dimensions of the field was about 100 sq ft of equal square dimensions?
I was seated on my bicycle at the time on the pavement (sidewalk) and burred my head in my hands as I counted up to 50 slowly.
Then I looked up to scan the field to see for any movement that would indicate where either my brother or his friend were hiding.
Seated on my bicycle saddle, I would rock idle pausing to think.
As I looked across I saw what I believed to be a man in a duffel coat walking to one end of the field and then walking back again..right at the back near the far fence.
I stood there watching, wondering why he was walking back and forth as I thought:- "Weirdo"
I started to feel uneasy because the figure was acting suspiciously.
The other strange thing, was that it got dark almost immediately after I lifted my eyes to start scanning the field.
There was silence, as even the traffic had stopped and the birds had stopped singing.
Continuing to watch, the figure again turned and walked back as if deep in thought?
Then things began to confuse me. The figure was in fact wearing a robe and was quite tall as it it suddenly seemed to notice me watching.
It drifted across to me diagonally as I could see the folds in the long sleeves draped down and a rope as a belt.
The hood was strange, not like monks in films or pictures, but almost box shaped and big drooped over the face.
As I stared at the figure, the was one part of me that said 'normal' and the other part of me that said 'not normal'
Just cannot explain how these conflicting thoughts enter your brain whilst all the time you are trying to rationalise thinking that you are mistaken as it was not a monk.
It drifted nearer and it's feet was just smoke.
I seemed to freeze on the spot with fear but suddenly turned my bike around and peddled as fast as I could back home.
My brother and his friend had already returned and were laughing. They certainly did not believe a word I had said.
Was it a ghost? 100% yes! It was as solid as a person in black and very tall.
This is the report I placed in the local newspaper:-
The date is wrong in the paper...only a day out as I have this recorded in my diary.
There you are.....no one can say that I made up this story!
Footprints Began to Form
I cannot remember which came first....that ghost or the footprint in my bedroom?
This is my story:-
In my bedroom at Wollaton, there is lino fitted as a floor covering. Carpets were a luxury in those days.
Whilst getting dressed in the mornings, I would notice a strange mottled footprint at the corner of my lower bed.
The print was almost a matt finish depicting the toe areas and sometimes the heel.
At times they looked like giant paw prints.
Yer...of course...you think of a logical explanation and then you shrug your shoulders having found nothing!
You begin to notice that they appear every three days and take sometimes a month to completely disappear .
Although similar in size to a normal footprint, it would appear as if someone had come out of the bath?
Trouble was...that there was always ONE. (okay joke over)
I would go to bed, and make a special note if a print was there?
When I awoke and steadily walked to the end of my bed...it would be there!
Worse still it would sometimes appear UNDER the bed! Always at the same spot.
One day I sat in front of my electric fire in my bedroom looking at some fireworks I had purchased. Seated on my bum with my legs stretched out, I happened to look towards my right, and a footprint had just formed. (different area) but this time it was soaking wet! I was able to put my hand in it and look at the water. (it did shake me up a bit , because there was no doubt that it was supernatural)
I watched the footprint for a good half hour as the water evaporated leaving just a mottled print as before.
It was years later I began to find the cause (to continue)
It was years later that I joined up with a psychic in America who also shared my soul.
The story goes that the monk was me from a previous incarnation going back to 1035 AD . The monk was named as Thoms De-Raleigh from Barton-In Fabis Notts. who was murdered and thrown into the river.
I began to have vivid visions of looking up froma water bed at lilies floating on the surface.
Apparently the monk had a close connection with relics from Jesus. Which were buried close by.
I was revealed the exact location and focused my own mind on it.
By which the vision being so strong blinded me for half an hour.
I could not see apart from these images drawn in my head like from a luminous pen. Daft things like snakes, jugs, axe.
One in bright green, the other in bright yellow and one in bright red as the hand with the pen began cross hatching.
I stood up, shook my head and said:- "Stop" but still the images glowed and I had to use my arms to touch were I was going.
I am not going anywhere near these objects..they can stay...
We are talking about the holy prophet Jesus and the relics if found can break Christianity. The search for the holy grail.
Too strong as I fear I may get blinded permanently if I am not spiritually ready!
Will try and find the report
Hello Michael,
Thought I would tell you about my latest dream last night.
Firstly.....I am not really cut out for authentic dreams. Generally, they do not come true and sometimes they get really tangled. My mother on the other hand, has accurate predictions. Sometimes when she has a bad dream, she will be in a bad mood for a few days until the event has passed.
Okay:- I retired to bed as soon as I finished emailing last night and pondered over the days thoughts including Brother Thomas.
I then had the most peculiar dream. "That's it" I thought. So I jumped out of bed and started writing a page essay before I forgot. By the time I got back to bed, I could not sleep for about another thirty minutes.
Over here in the UK with have what is called an Ministry Of Transport (MOT) certificate for vehicles that are over two years old. A few days ago I took my vehicle for it's first MOT. I know the MOT man (Peter Riley), as I have repaired their computer. He is about sixty years old with grey hair and rather stout.
Anyway here goes:-
'Mr Riley could not MOT the car. I had to wait (I started to lose the thread here)
Anyway the doorbell rang, I answered the door, and this lady asked to speak to me as she had seen the (story?) and had come to help.'
"Now" She said...."He has got it wrong...it is this bit here" She got a piece of paper and pointed to the top of the page as she made adjustments. "Here" she said, and got her pen out to make an alteration. Here she said:-
"Write it down....you must write it down" and handed me the pen. I remarked how smooth it was to write with, as I could produce the finest of words.
Okay she said:- "THIS SYMBOL MEANS FORGIVENESS. HE HAS FORGIVEN HIS MURDERER"
"This symbol over hear means illness. A person in your family will become very ill...it is his love for the person"
" NOW.....THIS IS THE SYMBOL FOR THE MOT MAN..THIS IS FOR HIM. IT IS HIS GIFT TO HIM, FOR THE MOT MAN. GIVE HIM HIS RESPECT"
"HIS SYMBOL IS HERE. HE WILL RECOGNISE IT. TELL HIM THAT IT IS THE MONKS GIFT TO THE MOT MAN" This is his gift to the MOT man, he WILL recognise it as one of the SYMBOLS in the drawings. It is HIS SYMBOL as gratitude from the monk.. Now get a pen and write it down. He got it wrong, but give him respect (over and over again) He needs to take another day....to keep trying (fading threads)
I looked across at the MOT man and he was now working on another vehicle, preparing to try again at a later time.
His description was like grandpa Walton in 'The Walton' TV series. He looked fairly old (about sixty years old) with silver/white hair swept back rather long collar length. He was a portly gentleman, small to medium in statue. Some sort of Red Indian look about him.
I know this does not fit your description Michael, as I know your age and I think I know what you look like, but tell me:-
Do you have a guide (perhaps a grandfather) who is helping you, who fits this description and may have worked in a garage ? Or maybe some cross link referring to you as the MOT man.
Anyway...maybe just a funny dream after all!
(if this does make sense to you, I really do not want to know about the illness part)
I have not read your other mails yet, as I thought I better send this to you, before it fades from my memory.
Best Regards as always, talk to you soon.
George
The connection of the MOT man is Peter Riley who is the owner of the garage where I take my car for the MOT.
We found the connection with De-Raleigh
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