Recently, a friend of mine approached me with an interesting mix of humor and angst. "You're going to think I'm crazy, but . . ."
She proceeded to tell me about these strange going-ons in her house. Hearing things. Seeing things. Sensing and feeling things. You see where I'm going. She (and her kids) were convinced their house was haunted.
"Do you believe in stuff like that?" she asked.
"Absolutely," I answered.
My skin got all tingly as she relayed several episodes. I could envision what she saw, imagine what she (and her kids) felt. I pointed out that the spirit was probably harmless. I made a few jokes, trying to ease her fear. Easy for me. I'm not the one living in a (possibly) haunted house.
Still, I truly did understand. I didn't think she was crazy, because, yeah, I believe in that sort of stuff. I've had a couple of experiences of my own.
When I was a kid, third grade maybe, I saw a scary movie, Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte. Scared the bejeebers out of me. I don't remember anything about it now except it was in black & white, starred Bette Davis (I think) and involved a decapitated head in a box. Yeah. Yuk. Anyhoo, not long after, a night or so later, I was laying in bed, facing the window. A storm raged outside as I tried to sleep. Thunder. Lightning. In a flash, I saw a man standing in my window. A man holding his head. Yes, yes. I know. It HAD to be my imagination. An image prompted by the movie. Except, I can still 'see' that image to this day. It was real. He was real. Whoever he was.
I never felt comfortable in that house again. A house I loved. A house we moved out of not long after. Perhaps I should research the history of that house. Maybe there was a freak farm accident. Maybe a murder occurred there. Who knows?
Fast forward to many years later. My early 30s. The first home my husband and I occupied as man and wife. I really loved that place. So much personality. So charming and homey, and yet... I had a terrible time sleeping. I always felt that someone, other than my husband, was there. It was eerie to think that an uneasy spirit lived there, too. I read up on the matter. I remember laying there at night, mentally telling the 'spirit' that it was okay to 'crossover'. In the end, we moved before he/she made that jump. Hmmm. I should research the history of that house, too
A few years later, the week after my stepfather passed away, I was performing on stage at a local casino, singing a country song. I glanced up to an upper level where people could look over and listen. I saw a short man with a beard and a cowboy hat. I could swear it was Tommy. The moment stole my breath away and gave me goosebumps. It's not the first time I thought I saw a friend or family member who'd died.
So, no. I don't think my friend's nuts. That would make me nuts because ... I believe. I know we've touched on topics like this before, but what about you? Do you believe? Any woo-woo stories to share?
She proceeded to tell me about these strange going-ons in her house. Hearing things. Seeing things. Sensing and feeling things. You see where I'm going. She (and her kids) were convinced their house was haunted.
"Do you believe in stuff like that?" she asked.
"Absolutely," I answered.
My skin got all tingly as she relayed several episodes. I could envision what she saw, imagine what she (and her kids) felt. I pointed out that the spirit was probably harmless. I made a few jokes, trying to ease her fear. Easy for me. I'm not the one living in a (possibly) haunted house.
Still, I truly did understand. I didn't think she was crazy, because, yeah, I believe in that sort of stuff. I've had a couple of experiences of my own.
When I was a kid, third grade maybe, I saw a scary movie, Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte. Scared the bejeebers out of me. I don't remember anything about it now except it was in black & white, starred Bette Davis (I think) and involved a decapitated head in a box. Yeah. Yuk. Anyhoo, not long after, a night or so later, I was laying in bed, facing the window. A storm raged outside as I tried to sleep. Thunder. Lightning. In a flash, I saw a man standing in my window. A man holding his head. Yes, yes. I know. It HAD to be my imagination. An image prompted by the movie. Except, I can still 'see' that image to this day. It was real. He was real. Whoever he was.
I never felt comfortable in that house again. A house I loved. A house we moved out of not long after. Perhaps I should research the history of that house. Maybe there was a freak farm accident. Maybe a murder occurred there. Who knows?
Fast forward to many years later. My early 30s. The first home my husband and I occupied as man and wife. I really loved that place. So much personality. So charming and homey, and yet... I had a terrible time sleeping. I always felt that someone, other than my husband, was there. It was eerie to think that an uneasy spirit lived there, too. I read up on the matter. I remember laying there at night, mentally telling the 'spirit' that it was okay to 'crossover'. In the end, we moved before he/she made that jump. Hmmm. I should research the history of that house, too
A few years later, the week after my stepfather passed away, I was performing on stage at a local casino, singing a country song. I glanced up to an upper level where people could look over and listen. I saw a short man with a beard and a cowboy hat. I could swear it was Tommy. The moment stole my breath away and gave me goosebumps. It's not the first time I thought I saw a friend or family member who'd died.
So, no. I don't think my friend's nuts. That would make me nuts because ... I believe. I know we've touched on topics like this before, but what about you? Do you believe? Any woo-woo stories to share?
SIS Beth