I don’t scare easily.
In spite of me ignoring my intuition on certain things (such as relationships I wanted to pursue because I didn’t like that answers I got), I have generally listened to it in the past when there was no emotional attachment involved, and I didn’t care about the outcome.
I’ve stated that you can’t always just explain intuition away rationally, so I thought I’d share a story about how intuition can warn you when there is potential danger, even when there is no reason behind it.
As mentioned in previous blog entries, I used to go up to Hanging Rock on a regular basis in the late 80s and early 90s.
It would be either just me and my then friend, Paul, or a group of us in a couple of cars. It was always at night, and we’d always go to both Hanging Rock itself (because the gates would mostly be left open after dark) and Straws Lane, which is a place of weird anomalies that cannot be dismissed as just illusion.
In the early 90s, we had been there quite a number of times. Sometimes we climbed the Rock in the dark and there was even one time when we came back down to find the gates had been padlocked closed. (We got out because I happened to have a hacksaw in my car that day.)
Never once did any of those things bother me. Never once did I sense anything bad might happen, and nothing ever really did.
Except for this one time.
Because memory can be such a fragile thing, I’ve decided to just post an entry from my diary at the time (and edited to remove irrelevant details.)
This entry was written on Sunday 22nd March, 1992.
Yesterday was not quiet the equinox but we decided to go up to Hanging Rock anyway. Paul also asked a bunch of his mates and around eight of us went up that night.
We took two cars. Normally I take my car but Paul felt it was his turn.
It was night, but everybody to climb the rock again. I wasn’t against it but somehow I felt we shouldn’t do it. As we were driving up, Paul remarked: “I’ve got the feeling nothing going to happen tonight.”
I didn’t agree and said so. The uneasy feeling was growing.
We arrived and made our way up to the gates.
I once again stated that we shouldn’t climb the rock. Paul asked why not and all I could say was it was a gut feeling.
The gates on one side the grounds were open. We all got out of the car and heard this unearthly howling sound coming from the direction of the rock.
“That was no animal,” said Paul. After a couple more times, it stopped and everyone promptly forgot about it. I kept it in the back of my mind and kept bringing it up as an argument why we shouldn’t go in.
We also saw lights and heard some sort of music. A bit more investigation revealed there were people inside.
Still, everyone wanted to go inside and climb the rock, regardless.
Once again, I argued against it. I was adamant that we shouldn’t do it. Somehow I knew I wasn’t going to convince them.
I then suggested that the gate could be closed when we come about out and I wasn’t about to climb over barbed wire.
We drove around to the other gates and found those were closed. One of the guys used his keys on the lock and found, to my horror, that it opened it.
“That’s one of your excuses gone,” Paul said to me.
“I still feel we shouldn’t do it.” I replied, with a sinking feeling. No one listened and we drove in through the open gate and down into the car park.
I reluctantly accepted that they were going to climb the rock and I decided to go with them. I felt the rock itself that wasn’t the problem: there was something else.
In any case, I felt they would be safer with me with them. (I always had a sense that I could protect others.)
We started to climb but barely a few minutes later, we saw headlights drive into the car park and stop where the cars were. The lights went out for a few seconds and I heard a door a slam. Then they came back on and a four wheel drive drove up and shone his headlights up towards the rock. He must have seen us for he sounded his horn
We made our way back to the car park and Paul said to what must have been the park ranger: “Is there a problem?”
“Can’t you read,” he said angrily.
“The gates were open,” Paul replied.
“Wake up to yourself. Get out of here,” said shouted back.
He drove off up the track and sat there waiting for us to leave.
“He knew he was wrong. That’s why he didn’t hang around,” said Paul.
But I wasn’t so sure.
When we got the cars, we smelled a strong lime smell that seemed to be strongest in the car. I thought it was odd and could find no rational explanation for it. As we were driving down the road, the driver of the other car, Dean, said on this UHF CB that there was something running down our back window and boot. We stopped to take a look at it and found someone had poured some sort of acid and brake fluid over the boot (trunk) and it was burning into the paint work.
We rushed back to Woodend as fast as we could and pulled up at an all-night service station where they proceeded to wash the acid off. Dean’s car wasn’t too bad and I think we just managed to save Paul’s but it would need a cut and polish to restore the finish.
We spoke to the service station attendant who described the man we met as the park ranger called Guido. He was adamant though that he knew Guido and he would never do something like that.
“You get all sorts of weirdos going up to the rock,” he said. “They have satanic rituals up there and on Straws lane. I even had some guy ask me at midnight were the graveyard was.”
My strong sense was that we were lucky that night. Possibly the ranger scared off whoever had the acid, and even more possibly, my delays may have just been enough for him to call us back before we disappeared from sight on the rock.
Certainly sounds like a plot from a bad horror movie.
My intuition was very clear on what to do, and what not to do, and the important thing to note that, even though it started as a normal journey, I was already feeling that something would happen, and as I said, I don’t scare easily.
Next: When intuition changes.
Psychic Empath 
Got your own experiences or comments? I’d love to see them.