She’s no Shirley Ghostman – Medium Fleur is friends with popstars, a life long converser with the other side and a believer in something other than just one dimension.
Like any modern gal, I’ve got a few chunks of crystal lying about the house. I’ve had my palm read, my tarot done. I use the crystal ball emoji, I’ve got a silver pentagram beside the bed that my friend gave me that doubles as a coaster and a few sticks of Palo Santo that I burn to make the room smell nice, but also cleanse it spiritually, you know? All well and good — do the combined magical powers of sticks and stones change your life? Who really knows, they’re just there, mystical tchotchkes, collecting dust and wafting out vibes.
Do I believe that there is something more to us than being a sack of meat on this lonely blue planet? Well, maybe. Like most people I have those weird chance encounters that are more than coincidence: that time I thought of someone I hadn’t for years, and then twenty minutes later found out they’d just died. Or, less morbid — the time I decided I’d quite like a watch and the next day won one in a raffle. Am I connected to the universe or just lucky?
So, when offered to visit to a medium, I obviously jumped at the chance. Commune with the dead! Who would speak to me! What information would they present me with? Although I was aware that Medium Fleur wouldn’t be a bloke with a beard and third eye, I was also not prepared for her to look like your average 27-year-old LA native: cheery, caffeinated and ready to convene with spirits.
Tuning in since the age of four, Fleur only gave her first reading as a pre-med student at UCLA. Since then she found that people had an appetite for her hotline, including Lana Del Rey and Emma Roberts. “I was surprised that people would want me to do it, that I could make a living out of it,” say says. “I don’t think mediumship has been taken out of the hocus pocus world, people do sometimes think I’m the secretary.”
“Last year, two of my friends died in similar circumstances. One of them comes through. I am laughing but I am also crying. Fleur describes him to me in details that only I would know.”
So how does it bloody work? “I pay attention to the air around me, and how it feels. It becomes dense and I can feel who wants to connect with me — it feels like thumb prints on my skin. I start to pay attention to those people and ignore the others in the background. I focus my awareness on them — from there I will hear information about them or see it in a daydream or just… know it. But it depends who is speaking, everyone is different, just like in real life.”
I never knew either of my granddads — both of my parents were raised by their mums, so it’s surprising that she tells me that my granddad is here to speak to me. Ascertaining his identity with yes or no questions, she tells me that he apologises, as well as some other stuff; but walking out on your family 65 years ago needs more than a sorry from the dead IMO. Anyhoo, “He has a bad energy,” Fleur states before finding someone else to chat to. “I’m just a channel for the other side, they know who you are connecting to, they know you’re going to be here. Most of the time you know the person in the room with me, know who’s being spoken about. Or it would be someone who, for example, your mum would know about but you might not. So you can go home and ask her a bunch of questions and she’d be like, ‘Yes, yes, yes’, which can be even more validating.”
Last year, two of my friends died in similar circumstances. One of them comes through. I am laughing but I am also crying. Fleur describes him to me in details that only I would know — the tiny details of friendship that make up a person’s uniqueness. My friend and I shared manymanymany of these details, and manymanymany personal, only funny to us jokes, that we would share like a game of ping pong. Fleur says, “He is laughing, was he funny?” He was. Very funny. Then she says the punchline to one of the jokes. “Do you have anything to say to him?” she asks. He is listening, I know he is. So I ping pong back my message and hope for the best. It gives me a tingle down the spine thinking about it — but at the same time, it makes me feel incredibly happy that my friend is somewhere out there still laughing at our shit jokes.
“I am confident that there is something else,” says Fleur. “Obviously there is so much unknown but the process continues to intrigue me — there is so much more than we understand.” I couldn’t agree more.