Have you ever caught a whiff of a scent that was out of place? Perhaps the smell of a family recipe cooking while you’re at work, flowers as you drive down the highway in the dead of winter, a campfire in the cereal aisle at the grocery store? You could be experiencing Clairalience, or the ability to smell odors that don’t really exist.

Those who are clairvoyant will often have this ability and many mediums use this ability to help identify loved ones who have passed away. The smell of Grandma’s perfume or Dad’s pipe tobacco can help you quickly identify someone approaching. Using our scent is often the most effective way to let us know who they are, as our sense of smell is closely intertwined with our memories of people and places.

However, these strange odors that appear may not always be easily interpreted. I’ve had this ability for as long as I can remember, though I didn’t realize until recently that it was Clairalience. I grew up believing that I was hypersensitive to odors, smelling the slightest odor that no one around me could detect (except perhaps dogs).

I usually “pass” by these ghostly smells. This happens to me a lot at work. I walk down the hall and pass through the scent of pine needles. Memories of camping in the north woods, Christmases past, a farm in New York all flash through my mind until I finally settle on the strongest memory. I usually spend a few moments figuring out why this memory is important to me in an effort to figure out who is sending me a message.

One of my co-workers is so used to these clairvoyant moments that she no longer bothers to get up and stand where I am to smell.

“Do you smell vinegar?” I will ask.

“No”, she will smile. “And no one else will.”

These events are often joyous trips down memory lane, a greeting from a deceased loved one. Then I had a Clairalient experience that saved me from a life-threatening event.

One day I noticed a pungent chemical smell at the pharmacy where I pick up all my family’s prescriptions. I had been using this pharmacy for about a year and had never smelled this terrible stench before. Neither my husband, nor my son, nor anyone who worked in the pharmacy could smell it either. This was a new smell for me; no pleasant trips down memory lane here.

A month later I went back to the pharmacy and as soon as the doors opened, that horrible chemical smell hit me in the face. I got sick to my stomach. I breathed through my mouth as I stood in line to get my prescription. Once I got to my truck, I had to sit for a few minutes to let that queasy feeling pass before I could drive home.

When I told my husband about it, he suggested they might be using a new product to clean floors that I’m sensitive to. That sounded plausible.

As the months went by I began to avoid going to the pharmacy. I’d ask my husband to pick up everything we needed, or if he couldn’t, he’d “forget” me to go and do without my medicine. It wasn’t just that the overwhelming and disgusting smell of the pharmacy prevented me from getting (and taking) my medicine. At some point, the medicine itself made me sick.

This was not a new drug for me so I was puzzled. Perhaps through some psychosomatic projection, he was now associating the smell of the pharmacy with the pills?

On an unrelated visit to my doctor, I mentioned how the pills were making me feel bad. A look of concern came over her face. My sudden reaction to my medication, combined with the symptoms I was actually there to see her for, finally gave her the big picture. If I continued on my current medication, I was putting myself at risk of having a stroke. He made me stop taking the medicine immediately.

I thought back to the chemical smell of the pharmacy. It made me feel so bad that I had actually stopped going there and stopped taking the medication on my own two weeks ago anyway. Had that smell saved me from having a stroke?

After being off the medication for a few months, I went back to the pharmacy to get the medication for my son because he had strep throat. Only after I left did I realize that there was no smell in the pharmacy. I went back inside just to check. He has left.

I may never have such a dramatic Clairalient experience again, but I’ve definitely changed the way I treat them now. I try to reach the heart of each one, however insignificant they may seem at first.