Author: Jill Marie Morris

Author, Writer, Paranormal Investigator, Medium & Psychic, Culinary Diva

About That Dress . . .

Funny story about my Lucille Ball collector’s Barbie. Note the dress.

In 1970, my mother took me shopping for a new dress. I saw a dress that looked just like the one pictured here. She refused to buy it for me and said it was hideous.

I remember that it broke my little heart to hear her say that. Matter of fact, I was so upset, we had to leave the store because I was crying my eyes out and snotting all over the place. That memory is forever engrained in my mind.

Fast forward to today …

It was pouring, so we took mom’s umbrella. It reminded me of the Lucy dress I never got to wear.

I said to my mother: At least you let me use an umbrella patterned like the dress you refused to get for me when I was little.

Mom replied: OMG! You remember that?! You were only 5-years-old!

Me: Sure do. You were so mean about that dress! I wanted it so bad!

Mom: But it looked so ugly! I didn’t want you to wear it! I’m sorry! I can’t believe you remember that! I feel terrible!

Me: As you should.

Mom: I am so sorry, honey! Do you forgive me?

Me: Nope.

Mom: You’re not supposed to remember those things!

Me: Uhhh, too late LOL

Mom: Please, forgive me?

Me: You’re going to Hell for that decision. You traumatized me.

Mom: OMG! Am I, really?! Do you think I will? I didn’t want my daughter looking like a spinster in that hideous dress! It was done out of love!

Me: But I loved that dress. You asked me to pick one out and it’s all I wanted. You said “no”.

Mom: Please forgive me. Oh, I have to say extra prayers now. God forgive me.

Me: Nope.

Mom: Please?!

Me: Nope.

Mom: Oh, come on!

Me: Just kidding. I forgave you a long time ago, and bought the collector’s doll.

Mom: You did?! Really?! You forgave me?! Awe!

Me: Yep, but I’ll never forget it 😆🤣😂


The Afterloss Credom

“I need to talk about my loss. I may often feel the need to tell you what happened or to ask you why it happened.

I may frequently need for you to listen while I explain what this loss means to me. Each time I discuss my loss, I am helping myself face the reality of the death of my loved one.

I need to know that you care about me. I need to feel your touch, your hugs. I need you to just be with me. And, I need to be with you.

I need for you to believe in me and my ability to get through grief in my own way – and in my own time.

Please don’t judge me now – or think that I’m behaving strange. Remember I’m grieving; I may even be in shock. I may feel afraid. I may feel deep rage. I may even feel guilty. But above all, I hurt. I’m experiencing a pain like anything I felt like before.

Don’t be concerned if you think I’m getting better and then suddenly I seem to slip backward again. Grief makes me behave this way, at times.

And please don’t tell me you know just how I feel or that it’s time for me to get on with my life. I’m probably already saying this to myself. I just need for you to be patient now and to try to understand.

Finally, allow me the time I need to grieve and to recover. I want to get on with my life but I know that first I must walk through the dark shadows of my grief. And although it is almost impossible for me to believe this now, I know that one day my grief will end.

Most of all, thank you for being my friend. Thank you for caring, for helping, for understanding. And remember, in the days and years ahead – after your loss – when you need me as I have needed you, I will understand, and then I will come and be with you.”

Barbara LesStrang

The Unknown Tribal Elder

Last night, I had a series of spirit contacts during sleep. Although my cat (Leonardo DiCatrio) woke me up three times, they continued each time.

The first of the series involved approaching an old door. I approximate the time period of this portion to be circa the mid-to-late 1800s.

The old door was the main entrance to a midsize home. The home had a small porch consisting of wood planks. The door was an unusual avocado green.

As I approached the house, I noticed a walking stick leaning against the door; dead-center. The tall stick was fashioned from a branch of sorts, and was decorated with eight feathers, as well as groupings of eight, braided ropes. One set of rope and feathers was located towards the top of the stick, while the other was located in the middle.

A single number “8” was quizzically located to the middle, right of the walking stick, and just to the left of the door handle. A skeleton key laid on the floor, and to the right of the stick.

I recall asking for permission to enter the house. Upon doing so, a large hand burst forth from a spray of beautiful white and gold light. With its palm facing upward and fingers loosely curled, the hand motioned me into the home. I noticed the appendage was quite old, wrinkled, and appeared to have some mild deformities. Simultaneously, I also saw the face of a very wise, Native American male.

Once inside the home, I was left alone, soaking in the antiquity of the furnishings. The tribal elder left, yet I could sense his strength surrounding me. His essence nudged me through the boxy dwelling.

A female spirit then made her presence known. She was dressed in all black, Victorian era garb, including a black lace veil that covered her pale face. She was incredibly distressed and inconsolable; she could not stop weeping.

As if to provide comfort, a finely dressed, male appeared and extended his hand to her shoulder. He uttered an apology for her incessant sobbing and stated she was not well. He seemed very much a gentleman for his time, and also carried a position of authority – perhaps as the homeowner.

After listening to a few more apologies for the bereaved woman’s behavior, I asked the pair if there was anything I could do to help. The male stated that he did not think so. The two then disappeared, leaving me to wander about the home.

The tribal elder then reappeared. His face was both bold and weathered, yet gentle. His eyes were emblazoned with life’s fire, functioning as a backlight and channel into his soul.

His salt and pepper hair was fashioned into long braids, and was held in place at the forehead with a headband. An unusual ornament adorned the center of the band. It appeared to be the Christian cross surrounded by a starburst.

His hand appeared once more, shooting meteor showers from its fingertips. I was in awe of its power. As his hand sparked and sent stars racing, the elder repeated the following words (recorded phonetically):

Oh toe chee nah

Mask oak hee

Ah kah low

Aye aye eee

Oak ahh

Choke ahh

(Sorry, folks. No mocha-choco-latte)

The words seemed rhythmic, yet equally guttural and somewhat abbreviated. His voice seemed to linger in my head, even after waking to tend to a rambunctious Leonardo DiCatrio.

After staggering to the drawer to fetch the beast a treat, I managed to fall fast asleep. The series continued, after slipping quickly back into the realm.

The next portion placed me in a hotel room, set in present day. The sobbing woman reappeared. Turning towards her, I once more asked if I could help, by which she stated “yes”. She asked me to go with her (to the house).

Shortly thereafter, I was abruptly told it was time to leave the hotel, and woke up. As my eyes opened, all that I could see was the kind, wise and leathered face of the Native American elder.

The man showed me a trail of white and gold. It was an exciting, confusing, and curiously comforting moment that transpired as I regained my bearings.

What I hold onto is the mystery of the walking stick, purposely placed against the avocado door, as well as the powerful, petrified hand of the elder, and that poor, grieving woman.

I also am trying to ascertain the significance of the number 8, as well as the symbol on the elder’s headband. I am fascinated by its appearance that seems to merge the Christian cross, with a sunburst.

Whether or not any of this may actually make sense will take time to decipher, but I’m on the hunt and open to suggestions, as well as direction, relative to these very old spirits.

(I have included my original sketches in this post)

Low Carb Peanut Butter Balls

This delicious treat is great for a low carb, or keto diet. One piece can cure a sweet tooth and cut cravings. Nutrition information is based upon this recipe and a mold producing 24 pieces.

Specialty items needed: 1″ or similar, silicone candy mold


1/2 c Coconut Oil (solid form)

1/2 c Natural (or Organic) Peanut Butter (less than 6g of sugar)

3 tbsp Unsweetened Baker’s Cocoa Powder

4 tbsp Stevia (powder form)

1/4 tsp Vanilla

Pinch of Sea Salt

In medium sauce pan, combine coconut oil and peanut butter. Stir constantly until completely dissolved. Stir in the stevia and cocoa powder. Mix well. Remove from heat. Add vanilla and Sea Salt. Mix thoroughly.

Pour mixture into a measuring cup that has a spout (or use a funnel). Pour into individual molds. Place in freezer for 1 1/2 hours. Once firm, remove treats from molds. Place in large freezer bag and store in freezer.


*** Must divide the total macros by the number of individual molds for information on individual piece.

1810 Calories, 177.5g Fat, 33 Carbohydrates, 31g Protein / 24 = 75 Calories, 7.4g Fat, 1.4 Carbohydrates, 1.3g Protein


Update: Session 2, Night 3 Events

This post is an update to Session 2, Night 3’s spirit warnings for me to “hurry up” and “get out”. The contact with the two spirits involved a premonition of an earthquake.

Today, we had a lovely shaker (5.3). It was 121 miles away from the house but we had lots of jiggling and wiggling. The cats flew into hiding again.

Relative to Night #3: As stated in the description, I did not think the spirits were hostile, but were warning me (about the quake). This info was documented in my Dream Diary the morning it happened.

Note: The blue dot on the map indicates the location of our home in proximity to the quake.

Night Realm Experiment: Session 2, Night 5

Session 2, Night #5 Of The Night Realm Experiment was completely unremarkable. I literally slept in the same position all night long. No orbs, no dreams or premonitions. I will not post a video unless something transpires.