Surprise, Surprise! It Ain’t Like the Movies!!!

As I pondered what to write about today, I thought back to the fears I initially had about developing my intuition.

There are many things about intuitive/psychic abilities that scare the outright shit clear outta people. The lovely Hollywood movie, The Sixth Sense, was high on my list after I white knuckled it through that flick. I eagerly departed the theatre, deciding that nope, this psychic stuff wasn’t for me–oh hell no!


If you haven’t had the joy of watching this movie, allow me to provide you with the quick and dirty on it. Boy is psychic. Boy sees dead people all over the place. Not your contented, lounging-in-a-coffin kind of dead person, but gory, gross, people who have hanged themselves with blood and entrails spewing…..ewww. Only a complete nutter would want to see that all the time, right?

Yes, it was Hollywood, so I knew it was pretty much full of it. But really….if you were on the fence about how else you could expand your baby sized psychic ability, would you even want to risk opening that door to hell? Nah. Didn’t think you would. Internet was nonexistent then, so I couldn’t google the topic to learn more. All I could do was search for books on the topic, from which I concluded…..


I am a compulsive reader, and of all the books I devoured on the topic of mediumship, psychic phenomena, etc, only one author reported  visions like the boy in the film. Poor chick! I would be having a chat with my guides about getting rid of that nonsense. But apparently it worked for her in a bizarre way…..or whatever.

I have been contacting the spirit realm routinely for 12 years. I have sensed some ghastly evil energy–no joke, this was the real deal gnarly–one time, and that is my most frightening occurrence. I have spoken with spirits who committed suicide, and it gets no worse than me being able to vaguely feel how he/she ended life. I never see grisly visions, or anything even close.

Please do not allow the fear of the unknown ever prevent you from moving into the fascinating world of psychic/spiritual growth. Find a reputable guide or mentor, and let the fun begin!





Who Can Become a Psychic Medium or Animal Communicator?


Anyone can, that’s who!!! See, these folks in the photo are toasting their innate intuitive/psychic/healing abilities because why? We ALL have them! And these folks are obviously quite thrilled with that idea–and you should be too.

Time and again, I hear clients say wistfully, “I wish I could do what you can.” News flash!!! They can. Anyone can. That is, anyone who puts forth the effort to wisely develop the energy that Mother Nature gave everyone. All of us can read energy. The simplest example is this: you meet another human, and BAM! You love them. Or conversely, you want to run in the other direction since something you can’t quite put your finger on feels very, very off to you. That, my friends, is reading energy.

The only difference among people is how quickly and easily they develop their abilities. Psychic ability runs in families, just as traits such as mathematical brilliance, are genetic. My little brother–that dude got all the math skills. Me? I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide–that’s it. I dropped out of remedial college algebra 3 times because it makes absolutely no sense to me at all. Statistics were equally as onerous. On the flip side, I simply talked to a psychic about how to read energy, sat down, and did it, on the first try. It was a pretty quick and easy trot down the psychic pathway after that.

Others may have to put more time and money into it, and focus energy on their endeavors for a longer period before much of anything occurs.

If you have a hankering to see what you can do, and just need someone to guide you, please consider me. I adore helping others experience the joy and practicality of these “supernatural” skills. Email me at

Do Animals Find Flatulence to Be Funny?


“I am enamored of your farts.”

Don’t ask me why–perhaps it is genetic (we found a bevy of typed fart jokes in my grandpa’s desk drawer after he died)-but I think passing wind, tooting, poofing, cropdusting, whatever term you wish to use to describe small explosions betwixt the butt cheeks, to be riotously hilarious. Every. Single. Time.

Much to my amazement, some animals also think farts are hysterical too. I once conversed with two dogs who professed to miss their human grandfather. Come to find out, one of the main reasons they loved to be around this kindly old man was because of his boisterous wind passing. The sound delighted them, and of course, being dogs, they thought the smell to be heavenly !  They even inquired of their mom when Grandpa would return to see them so they could enjoy his ass music. LOL!!!!!

Stories like this are one of the multitude of reasons I adore being an animal communicator.


Why Choose a Spiritual Path?

When I was a wee turd growing up in Waldron, IN (population 269, including the town cat), my parental units frequently trotted me to church. I have to scratch my silver pate, and wonder why? Dad wasn’t particularly religious, and certain aspects of Christianity chapped his ass mightily (i.e. homosexuality is a sin, for one.) Mumsy’s parents never took her to church, but for some reason, we attended. And for an even stranger reason, as a 4 or 5 year old child, I felt like I belonged in that sanctuary. I actually wanted to be there!

Fast forward to high school. Mumsy hauled my carcass out of bed every Sunday, and I used church mostly as a social hour–pass notes to the other girls in the back pew, watch to see if anyone was digging for gold (picking the nose), and head back to the nursery to play with the toddlers when the sermon commenced. I had been a highly gung ho Christian as a kid, but was less so as a teen. Why? Well, I was a teen–enough said there, right? Mostly, however, I had begun to question certain tents of my faith. Like, no one can go to heaven if they don’t accept Jesus as their savior. Now in order to do that, one has to have the cognition to grasp the whole concept of Jesus, something a severely mentally retarded person would be sadly unable to do. So all severely mentally retarded folks who couldn’t understand the concept of Jesus were doomed? What?  I don’t recall any caveats to that idea-ya either did or didn’t accept Jesus. Ya either went to heaven or to hell. How could that scheme be cooked up by  a loving God? And on and on, until I just couldn’t buy any of it anymore at all. So I waved goodbye to Christianity.

As a college student, partying was one of my top priorities. And I did it.up.right!!!! Despite my addle brained state at the time, I was still fascinated with religion, though I no longer had one. I took a class about world religions, and immediately fell head over heels in love with Buddhism. But where to go be a Buddhist? There was no Internet, only a local magazine sharing some of the religious options around Indy. I investigated nondenominational churches, but they usually brought up my old pal Jesus. Being uncomfortable with that whole scene, I kept trying various forms of Buddhism as I discovered them. I read and read until I thought my eyeballs would pop out, learning about the Dalai Lama and his teachings. In June of 2004, I heard Nicheren Buddhist chanting for the first time. It was mesmerizing, and my soul sat up and looked around. Once I began chanting myself, I was hooked. I joined the Soka Gokkai International, and never looked back.

My Buddhist practice is interspersed with other religious deities and whatnot–anyone else a Ganesha fan? I totally dig Hinduism, but it isn’t my main spiritual squeeze. I enjoy using what works for me from other spiritual paths, combined with Buddhism.

What do I get out of having a spiritual path that I use daily? I truly don’t feel right without one. I feel like a Reese’s Cup without the chocolate–without that one ingredient, it just isn’t a Reese’s Cup. And life without a connection to the Divine simply leaves me empty and sad.

Having a strong spiritual path provides me with a way of viewing the world. I can make sense (or do the best I can) of the Universe using my Buddhist framework. It gives me a method of turning negativity and chaos into positivity and peace. Not that it is an easy task–ha!ha!ha! Donald Trump has challenged my Buddhist practice like about nothing else. And in spite of being Buddhist, I still want to slap the orange right off his face. Never  claimed to be perfect, did I?

My practice also provides me a sense of control over my life. In Nichern Buddhism, buddha-buddhism-chinese-pu-tai-50993.jpegwe believe that by chanting, we influence our karma and can change any situation. Sometimes changing any situation means seeing it in a positive light, rather than being all pissy. And we all know that changing one’s internal landscape transforms our external too.  May sound like bollocks, but hey–works for me! The vibrations of our voices have immense power. Firing up my big cake hole for some daily chanting certainly blows my skirt up!

If you would like to explore religion and spirituality, but have no clue where to begin, then here ya are: This explains the major tenets of popular religions, and in plain English. You can also schedule a session with me, one in which we investigate what a happy spiritual practice would look, smell, feel, and taste like to you. Using my intuitive and counseling skills, we will create a path for you. Sound dandy? Swell! You can reach me at 317-440-8783.



Why I Am A Psychic Medium, Etc.

As I pondered what on earth to write about today, I decided to glance through my old blogs to see what stone I had left unturned about me and my psychic world. There is a large doozy of a stone left unturned, and that is why I do what I do. What would make one want to ditch her hard earned master’s degree and the career she was so excited about to do this instead? I have three answers: the government and insurance companies. Number three shall show herself a little later in our blog.

The career I had practically drooled and frothed at the mouth to enter was that of a clinical social worker. A counselor, to be exact. For many moons, I had dreamed of having my own practice, helping clients with whatever. For many moons much longer than that, people had spontaneously told me their troubles. And I was happy with that. I loved (and still do) when someone shared their heart and soul with me, maybe seeking advice, maybe not. Didn’t matter; I still enjoyed the dialogue.

After deciding to exit retail (my first degree was in fashion merchandising), I earned my second degree in psychology. And then I learned that I would for sure need that master’s to do any job healing people–ye old bachelor’s degree doesn’t move your ass far, trust me.

Grad school sucked. Let’s not beat around the bush here; I loved learning, but…working, grad school, a 10 month old puppy, and my grandfather dying during that time were all a bit much at once. Many times during those 3 long years, I would tiredly scribble, “Annie Sever-Dimitri, MSW” over and over again to motivate myself to continue. I was so excited to sign off on professional paperwork with those initials MSW perched cozily behind my name.

As graduation finally approached, I felt it would be a good idea to get my counseling feet wet working at a community mental health center. HA HA HA HA! Until I learned that the quality of the work I did meant not shit, zip, zilch. What mattered was billing the government, getting those juicy “billable hours”–that was the most critical aspect of the work at the community mental health centers. Having high billable hours was how one earned pay raises, not how you treated your clients. So see ya to that idea! I couldn’t treat people like a dollar sign.

Being unable to see other humans as a dollar sign eventually caused massive burn out only months into my career as an intake clinician at a psychiatric hospital. Let’s be honest; I was horribly burned out on social work by the time I left school! Spending 3 months as a PRN social worker on a trauma unit was the icing on the cake; spending any time as an intake clinician was the ice cream on top of the cake.

My job was to evaluate folks seeking services, recommend level of care (inpatient, intensive outpatient, etc), call their insurance company to seek reimbursement for treatment, process the paperwork, and walk them down to the inpatient unit. I also got to call the police if someone suicidal didn’t want to be admitted. Talk about a zoo. I was glad I never had to do that.

What I did have to do, A LOT, was tell parents how to keep their children from committing suicide until the child could return for day treatment the following morning. Insurance companies will do ANYTHING to keep from paying for inpatient treatment. It was hell. Many suicidal people will hint, but not give anything concrete, on which to provide a diagnosis of active suicidal ideation. Without that, it didn’t matter what the child was saying or doing, those parents were going to be taking that sick kid home with them and keeping their fingers crossed until the next day. My heart broke daily watching how these families suffered, and my ethics were kicked in the crotch routinely too. One of the older employees delighted in seeing our schedule book full, not caring particularly how anyone was scheduled on that book. They were just there, and the hospital was going to make money. Luckily, I had already given my one month notice when I discovered that our child psychiatrist had been ordered by company executives not to increase children’s psych meds more than a certain amount daily. Why? They were being released too soon, causing the hospital to lose money. I wanted to bitch slap someone; what was best for our patients didn’t matter, just bring the damn money in.

My health was totally in the crapper by the time April 24th, 2006 rolled around, which was my last day as a social worker. If I hadn’t worn a skirt, I would have turned cartwheels down the hallway as I trucked it out of there my final shift.

I continued cleaning houses (was never able to do social work full time and cleaned houses the days I wasn’t working at hospital), and I found a truly hilarious and lucrative job as a server in a tiny cafe. My coworkers were SO funny, something I had needed badly for years–there is absolutely nothing funny about social work. Well, sometimes, but not that often. As I regained my health and considered what to do with myself, I decided I would learn life coaching and image consulting. Well, well, well, those aren’t really up my alley. I am too quirky for such staid employment. As I learned to accept my psychic abilities, I found that the third reason I left social work was that I had never felt comfortable or right with it. I didn’t even want to finish my degree, but did it anyway with only two semesters left. I discovered the reason I chose to help people and animals with my psychic self was because it Social work had never felt this good. I would stand on my head and spit nickels in order to be a psychic and an animal communicator. I simply adore helping clients with whatever is happening in their world–be it grief, calming down, healing old wounds—and I am thrilled I get to spend the rest of my days on the planet doing this. I feel about my work the same as I do about my husband. He always felt right and good, even during our first conversation. Doesn’t mean my career or my marriage are always a stroll in the park…..nah, we’re human, and I hate computer work. But they always feel right, good, and worth the effort.




My First Contact with the “Dead”

For many moons, I thought it would be just the best to be able to talk with the spirit world. Why? The biggest reason is that I miss my family and friends (both those who used to be both human and animal) so, so terribly. Like everyone else, I have some relatives who are, to be nice, unsavory individuals. For the most part, my family has been lovely. My dad and grandparents were particularly lovely humans, and never a day goes by where my heart doesn’t hurt because they are out of their body. I thought being able to still at least have a conversation with them would ease the pain. I  also dug the idea of being able to help clients with their grief issues.

In 2002, I discovered I could read energy. Holy moly! By 2006, I began to offer readings professionally. Yet as much as I listened, hoping to discern the slightest peep from the Other Side, all I got were crickets chirping. No one ever came through.

I soon began reading book after book about mediumship. How I plowed through those pages with fervor and determination! If anyone could learn how to do it, by cracky, it was going to be me. I refused to get my pants into a wad about it, though. I knew if I was meant to be a medium, it would happen. If not, then I would choose to get over it.

One day, as I was wrapping up with a client (who I will call Gert), something very unusual crept into my consciousness. I was no longer receiving only Gert’s energy; someone else was there too. I sensed she was a woman and requested her identity. She replied that she was my Gert’s grandma. Stunned and about to pee myself with excitement, I breathlessly told Gert who was around to visit. She began to cry. I started to cry. As we both sat there with tears in our eyes, Grandma unloaded information which her granddaughter verified. I DID IT!!! I was completely choked up that it had finally happened.

Of course, through the passing of time, I have become better and better able to connect with the Other Side. How rewarding it is to see my clients filled with joy and relief when they receive messages from their loved ones.  I am so grateful I have this ability.



My Secret Protection

Nope, not going to dish about deodorant, feminine hygiene care or whatnot. I am referring to energetic protection here, not smelly parts. What is energetic protection? For me, it is an activity, product, or both simultaneously which keeps my aura clean, comfortable, and in top notch working order. Anyone, animal or human, who is sensitive to vibrations needs daily energetic guarding.

Golden Armor is a flower essence which provides some boisterously kick ass protection. Created by Green Hope Flower Essences for both animals and humans, here is how they describe it on their website:

“Our most important Essence for electrical protection

Golden Armor provides information to our electrical systems about how to buffer and protect us from computer screens, radiation and atmospheric changes, aberrant astral energies, human negativity, dissonant sounds, viruses, bacteria, man made dissonance in the airwaves and any other kind of vibrational bombardment we experience.

-Animals almost invariably need this remedy because they are deeply affected by the immense amount of man made dissonance in the airwaves.
-The Angels encourage all the people and animals at the farm take Golden Armor every day.


Abutilon, Echinops, Elderberry, Eryngium, French Marigold, Golden Yarrow, Goldenrod, Leopard’s Bane, Rattlesnake Master, Sea Holly, St John’s Wort, Teasel, Thistle, Titan, White Yarrow, Wild Abutilon”

I purchased it initially for our poor dog who picked up every vibe within a 5 mile radius. She was a spaz. Within a few days of dropping a dribble or two upon the top of her head, the employees at her daycare asked us what we had to done to her-she was SO much calmer!

Since I need to prevent myself from also picking up every vibe within a 5 mile radius, I began slopping it onto the top of my head too. Now my head smells reminiscent of a  douche, due to the vinegary aroma, but oh well–there are worse scents to waft from my locks.

If you feel everyone else’s emotions, are uncomfortable in large crowds because you are energetically overwhelmed, or you receive information about people walking by you, get thee some! For your animals,  an increase in your stress level means theirs is going up too. Give them some. You and your furry loved one will both feel uplifted, grounded, and stable.

Click here to fetch yourself a bottle: