Paranormal Ponderings…

What started my paranormal ponderings? I think I’ve always believed in a world that exists beyond my average, everyday life. I think most of us do, or want to, anyway. Why not? Believing in the unusual adds a little spice to life, especially during cold New England Januaries and Februaries. Besides, since I can’t actually rule out the existence of mythical creatures, ghosts, and the like, I’ve decided that it would behoove me to keep an open mind about most everything.

At the moment, I’m busy editing my book, I Shall Return, which is a Paranormal Gothic Romance, and have also published a PGR called The Wrath. Writing these books has stirred up memories of my own paranormal experiences, so I thought I’d share a few of them with you.

Inspired by Ghost Hunters  

Unfortunately, I haven’t had many. Actually, my husband, who’s a software engineer, has had more than I have. It’s a little annoying. I’m supposed to be the creative one, the sensitive one, and he’s the one who sees ghosts. Ah, well. Maybe I’m just TOO sensitive. Ha.

Could it have been a fairy light?

My first experience dates back to my childhood in Minnesota. Outside my window, about twenty feet away, stood a large spruce tree (they look like your typical Christmas tree). As this tree grew, the lower branches died off, leaving a cleared out area beneath the tree. At night, when I had trouble sleeping, I’d sit on my bed, chin resting on my folded arms, and stare out the window into the darkness. Only it wasn’t always dark. There were nights when I would spot a tiny pinpoint of light beneath the tree. I’d stare at it and stare at it, watching to see if it would move, but it never seemed to. At first I thought it had to be something under the tree – an old coffee can or chicken feed bucket – that reflected the light. Of course, in thinking this, I was also quite aware that there really aren’t any big sources of light in the dark Northern woods of Minnesota (keep in mind, all the lights in the house were out since everyone was asleep – we go to bed early in Minnesota – what else is there to do?). Even if there were lights, they would have a hard time reaching beneath the branches of the full tree. Still, one morning I remembered to go out and check for evidence and found nothing. No metal of any kind, not even a strange plant or mushroom that might give off a phosphorescent glow (though the light was more like a tiny flashlight or lantern). I continued to see that light for many years, and I still wonder what made it. A fairy ‘leaving the light’ on for the return of a loved one? Perhaps. It’s as good a theory as any. Or was it a lure for unsuspecting folk? I never did check the light at night. Growing up in Minnesota teaches one to develop a healthy sense of survival.

Our old place. The half window marks where the attic is.

My second experience happened more recently. I was in my late twenties and living in an old New England house, which had been divided into various apartments. I loved living there, with its hardwood floors and old doors. Our apartment had the only access to a giant attic, which we used for storage. Its ceilings were so high that I swear you could’ve fit a tall ship in there. I had recently given birth to my first child and my sister had come from Minnesota to visit. I, of course, showed her the attic (people in my family like attics) and while up there, I started chattering on about something. A few seconds later, something cold and ‘wet’ touched my elbow. I swiped it away, distantly thinking it was a water drop. It happened again. I swiped at it and went on talking. It happened again. After a few moments, it occurred to me that the attic was as dry as a bone, meaning no water droplets. It seemed that someone was trying to get my attention. Either that, or he/she was trying to get me to shut up. On a side note, my husband didn’t like the attic. He said he felt like someone was always watching him up there. In another room of the house, he said he could sense something bad or off in there. Great. That was where we put the baby’s crib. Come to think of it, we ended up moving the crib into our bedroom. Go figure. My husband never mentioned these feelings before we moved (other than that I knew he didn’t like the attic), though maybe I sensed something, too, and got my innocent baby out of that room before he could be turned into the male version of Stephen King’s Carrie.

I’ve always been a big proponent of listening to signs. Some time after moving into our first home, I kept spilling my water. I drank a lot at the time (water, not booze) and kept spilling it. Over and over. Either I was deteriorating physically, or something else was wrong. Since I wasn’t experiencing any other symptoms, in any other way, I knew I needed to look further into the phenomenon. It took me a while, but I finally figured that maybe someone was trying to tell me something about our water. So, long story short, we got it tested. Turned out, it had some bad stuff in it. We bought a filter system and it took care of the problem, and after that, I stopped spilling my water all the time. Coincidence? Maybe. Cool? Definitely.

Another sign I pay attention to comes in the form of my dreams, one of which I remember quite vividly. I kept dreaming that my youngest son was drowning. I endured three dreams where this happened, and each time, I managed to save him. Not long after having my scary dreams, we visited the town beach. We’d been there for a while when the wind started picking up, turning the water choppy. My two-year-old was in the shallow water wading. My older two were farther out. My husband got low blood sugar and we decided to call it a day. I left my youngest to go fetch my older two, who couldn’t seem to hear me over the wind and waves. But then I was hit by the sense that this was a bad idea, even though the water where he was standing was only about a foot and half deep. I had only taken a few steps, but when I turned back, he had already gone under (he must have gotten dizzy from watching the waves and sort of slipped in so his back ended up on the bottom). I remember his blue eyes staring up at me through the water, slightly perplexed. I was there within a second, and quickly pulled him into my arms. He was fine, if a little startled at what had happened. I yelled really loudly for my other two to come in right now, and this time they heard me. After having those dreams, I’d been feeling hyper-vigilant all day, and that feeling made me turn back, just in time. Scary, but a good lesson – listen to your dreams, especially if they tell you to buy my books.

The little guy who was saved by dreams.

Perhaps what happened to me could be explained away, but what’s the fun in that? You can try, though, and if you come up with an alternative explanation, let me know. At any rate, I’ll write another blog another day about a few more paranormal experiences that my family has encountered.

Until then, keep on believing…

1 Comment

  1. When you’ve had experiences, it’s impossible to not believe that there’s more “out there” than we can begin to comprehend. I’m looking forward to someday finding out about the next step after death.

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