Prior to the following experience, I wouldn't hesitate to blame some doofus move on my part on the "voices" I hear in my head. "The voices made me do it!" That was such a funny thing to say. Little did I know or understand back then that the voices you have "in your head" can actually be a real thing.

This story isn't terribly scary, but it is one of the top standouts for me as far as the litany of paranormal experiences I've had over the years. Thinking of this experience warms my heart and makes me so very thankful because it, combined with other later occurrences, eventually convinced me that there are such things as guardian angels or at least helpful spirits that appear when you need help the most.

A little background first for context (please bear with me): This experience happened during late summer or very early fall of 1996 in the Kansas City, Missouri, area. Back then, I was just starting my career as a newspaper reporter. I worked very long hours, always taking my work home with me to finish. Meanwhile, I had a young child in daycare and it was my responsibility to pick him up from daycare before 6 pm. My son's father (we lived together) was a chef and he worked 12 hour days. So, after work, I would pick up our son, fix dinner, spend quality time playing or just loving on him for a while and then put him to bed. His father would get home between 9 pm and 10 pm most days. I would resume work after he got home.

Although we could pay our bills, we did not have disposable income. This meant I did not have a computer at home, and I needed one to be able to work from home. Computers were an enormous expense to us. So, I would leave our house late at night and travel 20 or so minutes to my younger brother's house (he lived in a burb of the suburbs, kind of rural) to work on his computer and then save my work to a floppy disk (ahhh, the days of floppy disks!). I was so thankful that my brother allowed me to tiptoe inside his house late at night so that I could better balance my work and home life responsibilities. (Thanks P!)

On this particular evening, I finished my work around 1 am and jumped into my ancient Honda Accord to head home. I was alert, but tired. I turned down the main road from my brother's house and noticed that the night was filled with fog. I was a little unnerved as it was in the wee hours of the morning, dark and foggy, and I was the only one on the road in the middle of semi-nowhere. Beautiful area, but sparse back then. I fumbled through radio stations looking for something to distract me and landed on a public radio station. A Native American song was on and I enjoyed the rhythm of the music. The song was primarily steady drum beats with long-spoken chanting. Perfect for a dark, foggy night.

I noticed that the night sky would break through the fog every now and then and I could see a bit of moonlight hit the two-lane road. This isn't terribly relevant, just one of those things that make me thankful that I can enjoy such beauty. I was thinking of this beauty, and enjoying the rhythmic chanting, when out of nowhere I heard voices say, "Slow down." The words were clear as day, which sent chills up and down my spine and made the hair on my arms stand up! It was in a calm tone, but sounded like more than one person saying it at the same time. And although I knew I was alone in my car, I still looked over to the passenger seat as if someone was sitting there. Nope. Empty. Looked in the back seat. Empty, too. Feeling a bit crazy, I told myself that I am just simply hearing things that aren't there. Or, perhaps it was the wind? Nope. No wind. And no regular conversations happening on the radio, either.

I looked at my speedometer to check my speed. Not too bad. Almost 55 mph in a 45 mph zone. Meh, I don't need to slow down, I thought. No one is on the road at this hour and it's a straight shot, minus a few minor hills and such, to the highway home. I'm fine, sort of. I was feeling a little scared. I really thought I heard a group of people speak to me, but no one was in the car with me. So, I decided that I must be making stuff up in my head and had better get home and to bed soon.

Just as I started to relax back into my drive home, I heard it again. "Slow. Down." This time, it was louder and more pronounced with a pause in between "slow" and "down," and I definitely heard more than one voice in there. The tone of this message sort of sounded like a parent giving you that second warning, you know the one that happens before all hell breaks loose. Oh sweet Jesus. The chills were busy dancing on my spine again.

This time I turned my radio off. Silence. Not only was I feeling scared (disembodied voices weren't something I was used to at the time), but I was also getting frustrated (I tend to get a little feisty when I don't have immediate answers). Who wants me to slow down? Why? What is GOING ON? Am I crazy? I must be crazy because NO ONE IS IN THE CAR WITH ME. I took a couple of deep breaths as I struggled to understand the who, what, why, where and when. I felt like I was having an out of body experience.

I didn't have much time to ponder this further. "SLOW DOWN NOW!" They YELLED at me. No mistaking this. I was hearing voices and they were attached to some very upset people that I couldn't see. I quickly slammed on my brakes. It was one of those moments where you just throw caution to the wind, give in to your situation and go with it. It no longer mattered if I was absolutely losing my mind. I was too scared to do anything else.

And just as my car stopped, a herd of deer appeared, running from one side of the road to the other. Right in front of me, inches from my car. One after the other after the other. And there were bucks in this herd donning those beautiful, but deadly antlers.

And when I thought the last one crossed the road, I began to lift my foot off the brake and heard, "Wait." So, I waited. And a few more deer crossed the road. I waited a little longer and heard, "Ok." I gently pressed the gas pedal and headed home. Slowly.

As I drove home, I was in shock and awe. I have somewhat of an analytical mind, so I tried to rationalize this situation as I drove home and for days afterward. In time, I came to understand that these voices simply came from the heavens, or from some dimension that I couldn't see, and saved my life. We are not alone here after all.

I also said thank you many times to whomever yelled at me. I thanked "them" for not giving up when I was too stubborn to listen (pretty much the story of my life for many, many years). Frankly, I wasn't sure who to thank at the time. I struggled with God back then (quite upset with God and anything remotely related to religion at the time... We all have our issues, eh?), so I just kept saying thanks to the open air in my car.

At the end of the day, I decided that it didn't matter that I couldn't explain what happened, I was just thankful that it did happen. And although I believe it highly probable, I can't say for sure my two-year-old son would have lost his mother had I hit those beautiful creatures. I am just thankful (more than words can ever say) that I will never know.