When I was a child, I had imaginary playmates. Well. Some I remember quite clearly as made up and some weren't. They just didn't happen to be where we were, that's all. I was the "finder of lost things" in our house, not because I'm particularly neat (I'm the exact opposite of neat) or have a good memory, but simply because I could frown and suddenly just "know" where something had been put.
You should read my post....
So which post is yours?
lol
As a young child, watching TV, I would blurt out the endings of never before aired TV movies in great detail, much to the annoyance of my family.
I also remember saying good-bye to beloved elderly people who had grandparented me after they died. I remember meeting something bad one time on a family vacation and panicking so much that I got hysterical, which meant we had to leave the museum, which was all I wanted anyway.
I was sexually abused by a family friend beginning when I was about 9 or 10 and that's about the time I stop remembering doing those kind of weird things.
I did take a dorm room that was reported to have a ghost and actually work out an equitable arrangement with her so that I had one of the best rooms on campus for half the price. (Yes, you may scare my friends out of their wits so long as I'm present to laugh my ass off. Yes, weird, but harmless shit may go on in my room. No, you will not pull the phone cord out of the plug when I'm on the phone with my fiance'. No, you will not turn my alarm clock off. No, during finals you may not wake me up by turning on my radio just because you're bored and want company: the rest of the time okay, but not FINALS!)
And yes, I drive like a maniac, regularly speeding at least 20 miles over the limit; but no, I have never gotten a ticket. Yes, I can still make the tilt-a-whirl move by wanting it to. (One of my LEAST useful but funnest tricks). And yes, everyone who knows me still respects my ability to predetermine if a restaurant will be worth eating at simply by staring at it for a moment.
But I haven't done anything truly weird since that point: I've been an atheist since I was 9 or 10, pretty well convinced that if someone who was ordained by the church could rape a little girl repeatedly and have all the adults around him convinced he was the kindliest, sweetest, nicest, most holy man in the known free world that probably wasn't a god. I honestly didn't believe in ghosts or the paranormal. (Well, okay. There was something weird about being able to drive past a state trooper doing 90 in a 55 and not get pulled over, but there's atheism and then there's stupidity.)
But recently, just recently (I'm now in my 30's.) I've started seeing ghosts. I'm finally at peace with myself and my world and happy where I am. It started with the usual weirdness when I rented a hotel room with an upset camper inside. (The vibes I got were someone who lost too much money riverboat gambling, came back to the hotel and blew his brains out while sitting up against the bathroom door and has blamed everyone else for his death ever since.) Then it progressed to being able to smell a haunting without even turning my head. (Literally.)
Last week, driving to Biloxi, I noticed a guy on a classic old Harley right behind me on the interstate. He didn't have a helmet on, but he was wearing full leathers. (Explain this one to me: I see it a lot on macho guys. Leathers so you won't get road rash when you lay the bike down, but no helmet. Do you really think it will matter that you haven't lost large patches of skin off your thighs if your head has cracked open like a watermelon?) He had a nice military haircut--high and tight. He pulled up behind me and I was watching him from the rearview mirror hoping he would pass me so that I could admire him and the motorcycle when he just dissappeared.
Poof. One minute him, one minute no him.
I'd been smelling dirty socks since I pulled out of the driveway a hundred miles back, but chalked it up to living in Cancer Alley. The weird thing is: I have always loved the smell of feet and socks. Pheremones I guess. But ghostly things always have a decay-ey smell. Malevolent or unhappy ghosties tend to smell like excrement where non malevolent tend to have less disgusting smells (like dying flowers). This was the first time I smelled feet. I happily sniffed the air all the way from Lake Charles to Biloxi.
So now I'm back to seeing them.
Here's the question: Does this mean I'll start seeing ghosts again on a regular basis? And, more to the point, is it possible that the, for lack of a better word, abilities, that I thought I lost forever when I was a child are just tucked away and might be accessible to me?
By Catherine on Friday, June 7, 2002 - 05:09 pm:
By Mom on Thursday, October 9, 2003 - 02:04 pm:
By Evothek9 on Friday, October 10, 2003 - 01:51 am: