It is the end of 2009 and beginning 2010, and I am in South Africa on a 3 month work vacation.  I have been coming to Cape Town for the last 9 years.  My husband has a beach house that we work all year to live a celebrity lifestyle for a few months.  The English spoken is English, but the slang is very different.  We went for a dop at the pub and put out our stompies on the ground, before throwing them away.   The people are always smiling and are very friendly on this side of the world.  It is a simple way of life, but we are treated as celebrities and are wined and dined, thanks to my clients.

Cape Town is very hip to psychics.  People drive by our home and snap pictures of me, while I am outside enjoying the view. I am most famous for BBC psychic news stories that have reported me being involved with and in which I have posted on my website.  I am most grateful to my clientele and know that it is a pleasure to read for my living. 

It was January of 2009, when we took a wrong turn and showed up at the Southern Right Hotel.  Every year that we visit, we would drive by and I would tell my husband that I built that hotel and I was once married to a sea Captain.  I had dreamt of throwing myself off the cliff at the age of 31 in 1924.  My name was Renee or it was an E name.  I remember hanging laundry in the back garden. And, I knew that the laundry room was remolded and I was pist off and deeply sadden with the changes in the building.  I loved doing hotel work and the laundry was my most reoccurring dream.   I then would think psychically and project my thoughts and my love towards my husband, who was out to sea.  I would be waiting and wondering, because I had loved him very much.  I believe his name was William, or that was the name of our son.  I would seem to wake up in my dreams as this woman.  I never saw my ghost in the mirror, but I would see my long locks of brunette hair that draped my full breasts.  After speaking to the waiter, it was common knowledge the hotel was haunted by this woman and her son. 

The story goes that a sea Captain and his wife built the Glencarin Hotel.  The wife supposedly had an affair with the cook, and her husband went into a jealous rage and threw their son down the stairs, who died from his injuries.  She was also murdered, but they don’t know the details around her death.  So this coming year, I am here in South Africa to research this woman further.  The current owners of the hotel have challenged my reincarnation story, because of consent haunting.  But, they were intrigued by my dreams of moving furniture around and mostly upset with the changes in the laundry, which is now a playground for visitors to bring their children.  They said there was a lot of activity there during the remolding of the hotel.  They say people see the boy and woman mostly in the stairway, which was in the back of the building.

I believe the cook forced himself on her.  She lost her son, her husband and was with child at the time of her death.  I believe she killed herself, because of the community gossip and she was keeping her pride and she thought to die a dignified death to keep secrets to her grave.  I will keep you posted on my progress in discovering myself again.  If, you think about it…the camera has only been in existence for 100 years.  It makes sense to me that we are able to find ourselves again, because our subconscious can bleed into our conscience mind and replay the memories as déjà vue.