(bryanism Repost on: Animal Communication: Freed From A Vow of Silence)
I was at the gymn working-out and between (exercise) sets, when I crossed paths with a friend at the water fountain, a retired teacher named Ed. We took time to exchange pleasantries and for some reason we ended up talking about his dog, Charlie, who had recently passed. 
Ed and I must have appeared so captivated by discussion, that his wife stopped what she was doing to join us. Upon her arrival Ed explained, "Bryan was just about to talk to Charlie."
"Wha?" was her reply, so I quickly explained what that was and how long I'd been doing it, and so she was open to the idea.
Suddenly, I saw the dog, Charlie, who to my surprise showed no interest in communicating at all; but instead immediately made reference to a man I saw coming into view 'walking up from behind,' which made me comment, "Charlie's talking about this man called the Ice Cream Man. Who's that?" I asked, seeing him clearly now (third eye), puzzled by his silence, unsure how we was related.
The woman piped-up, "That would be my father, who is now deceased," she said looking into my eyes to see what I was seeing, "when he'd come to visit, he'd literally ask for a bowl of ice cream and begin feeding Charlie some of it with a fork, claiming dogs were one of the most hygenic species on the planet," smiling and remembering that she never denied her dad and Charlie that discretion.
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But now, Charlie disappeared leaving the man in full view, who remained silent, which is when I asked if I could relay a message, considering the nature and sensitivity of our basic agenda had changed.
She looked up at her husband and he at her, both taking deep breaths, holding each other a little closer, while nodding in unison, as if there was no turning back.
I kind of zoned out, something I rarely do, because I don't like bringing a lot of spooky drama to mediumship. That's just not my style.
And suddenly I was her dad, raising my right hand, wiggling my fingers at her, feeling a bit inadequate for not having a real verbal message to consumate the experience, but for the woman it was more than enough, which is when she buried her face into her husband's shirt, gently tapping a fist against his chest to punctuate her words, repeating more than once, "I never got the chance to say goodbye!"
She snapped back to present tense and begain explaining without going into full detail to help me understand, "You see, near the end, my dad was connected to a group of people who took advantage of him. I tried my hardest to get him away, but he became a recluse, almost embarassed to admit he'd been hoodwinked by some con-artist scheme, and so he died alone in shame. He was a good man." she wiped away tears with one hand.
With that, her dad finally spoke, and so did I (for him), making it clear who was actually doing the talking, "I'm so sorry for that." finally breaking the long silence that had drastically changed the course of an otherwise powerful father-daughter relationship.
And now, I had figured out why Charlie brought the dad into discussion, and why the dad wouldn't say a word, even to me, a kind of vow of silence, that he would not break until he spoke directly with his daugher first..
And she was suddenly transformed, right before our eyes, at last hearing the words, taking in the gesture that she wanted for so long, a simple good-bye, thinking she'd never receive it, and before my third-eye the father, in-spirit, had transformed too, open and now more communicative on the other side than ever, like he was on earth before all this had happened and before the silence of personal shame and guilt for being decieved by others that ended up micharacterizing the true nature of their (father-daughter) relationship.
We each went our own way.