Latest news on psi events and research. Volume 4, Issue 1, 2013
Milton Janoff of West Caldwell, New Jersey, sent the Rhine Center a series of stories that document a personal history of unusual experiences: stories of extraordinary happenings that saved his life, experiences hearing the sounds of beloved pets who had previously passed away, a knowing that President Kennedy had been shot before being told, and many such examples, too many to relate.
Out of this life infused with extraordinary experiences, he notes that the most important of the bunch is the connection he has had with his mother since she passed away. In a three page handwritten note with accompanying pictures, he sent this story to us. I will relay it here in type:
2007, Sarah, resurrection, hair, DNA
I was in my woodworking shop at the house down in the garage. My house, not my mother’s.
I put a plate glass 1/4″ thick, 7″ wide, 25″ long, on the work bench. I sprinkled some silicon carbide powder and stirred it together with a small stick. As I was making this slurry, my thoughts were on my mother. “I wonder where she is, and how she is.” The thought went out and was heard.
The next night I came down and took a bounty towel, crushed it in my hand, and rubbed off the build up of the powder. It was smooth now but still dirty. I stood it up near the bench. The next night I went to the bench. I happened to look towards the glass and saw an dimage of a woman. Holding it up to the light, I couldn’t believe I was looking at a perfectly proportioned woman of a biblical nature. I took a picture of it.
After a while, I was babysitting at my mother’s house. My granddaughter, seven years old, went upstairs. Twenty minutes later I heard heavy footsteps running back and forth upstairs. I said to myself, “what is hse doing, getting into trouble.” I went halfway up the stairs and it stopped.
At the top of the stairs in the hallway, I could see she was in a deep sleep. I thought to myself, “she couldn’t run so fast and then be fast asleep.” I looked in the other two bedrooms and there was nothing there. There were no pets at this time in the house. I went home and never mentioned it to Michael or Jane.
When Jane came home we talked about the lights being on when Mike came home. She told me about the running upstairs going on for sometimes, and I told her my story. So, Sarah visits there, and it’s something to hear the running. She runs in circles going through the wall portions and furniture. I think my father chases her.
Sometime after, Marie mentions something by my bed on the floor. It was a nest of hair like the shape of half a grapefruit hollowed out but with the walls intact with a bottom so firmly put together it doesn’t fall apart.
The coloring of the hair is like she had dyed as a younger woman. Auburn with a tint of red in it. I could see it was cut by a hairdresser.
I waited over three years to have the DNA done. I was working and couldn’t bring myself to do it. After my recent operations on my intestines, I couldn’t work, and the thought of not knowing for sure about the hair made me send the $1,245.00 to Paleo DNA.
I felt it was my mother’s hair, and the DNA would prove it.
I had mixed feelings also. Would there be DNA in the hair from an invisible world? How did she get it here?
The test came back positive. It is Sarah’s hair. What a miracle!
2009 was her fifth anniversary. I was riding in my van, and I said, “This is your fifth anniversary that you passed.” Sarah heard me and poked her finger through the backrest into my spine and pushed me forward. I sat back against the back rest again and she did it again. I said, “Sarah, it’s you, you’re celebrating your fifth anniversary that you got out of that old body.” The poking stopped. It wasn’t spasms that I was having. I know the difference.
At the end of the packet, Mr. Janoff included these thoughts:
I told you about Sarah’s hair and the DNA proof of existence in an invisible world. If the hair is solid concrete material substance I believe that she can be both physical and invisible at the same time, in that she pushed her hand through the backrest of my seat and her finger pushed me forward twice. It was sharp and pointy into my spine. There were no spasms and no hole in the back of the backrest. She was celebrating her fifth anniversary that way… When I saw my mother’s face in a dream twice, it was always young, about forty years or so, never old.