There are no coincidences — only synchronicities awaiting our decoding of their significance.
Today, as I sat working upon my book about John Dee, there occurred one of those moments that I am unable to ignore. As I typed on my laptop, four books fell from the large bookcase behind me — four texts from my collection of grimoires. No book has ever fallen from the bookcase in such a manner before. There was no draft, no vibration, and no feasible manner in which the books could fall from the large shelf.
Dee loved his book collections, perhaps I have a text that he was interested in. It was the top shelf where I keep the rarest texts after all. It is a shame that I see no reason for Dee to have remained as a discarnate entity in this realm. I shall take it rather as a sign — guidance, rather than suggesting the presence of a ghost.