Selective Scare-dy Cat

So, in the previous post, I mentioned that I was generally unafraid of out-of-the-ordinary events.

Today, I'm thinking about the fact that I've seen objects levitate, balls of light, apparitions, ghosts; and, daily, I have ghosts in my dreams, ghosts asking for help, precognitions, premonitions of catastrophes, and accurate feelings of foreboding.

Through the years, I've seen a key melt in the lock of an intensely hot door on the other side of which there was no fire and no heat. I've watched a hanging plant swing back and forth so violently that I thought the hook would be yanked out of the ceiling (no wind, no windows, nobody home). I've had a ghost wake me up and thereby save me and my husband from being burnt in a fire. I've held a remote control while a television flipped through channels on its own. I've tried to shut off a television that came on by itself only to discover that it was in the 'off' position. Ditto a wall-switch-operated ceiling fan. I've even had banging on the walls, and footsteps on the stairs, that was so loud that nobody in the house could sleep.

These are only a few of the events of I've experienced. Clearly, I'm no stranger to the 'paranormal'.

Yet, I still need Scully to stay in the same room with me if I'm watching a frightening movie! That's right. I couldn't watch The Sixth Sense without dear Mr. Ghostiegurl himself being there holding my hand all those years ago. He was recently there beside me -- reading -- while I watched The Uninvited and I STILL had nightmares. And just a few moments ago, I aborted a solo attempt to watch another scary film . . .

Eyeliner, a highlight of my teen years . . .

I always thought it hadn't fazed me in the least.

At twelve, my family became unwitting hosts to what would generally be described as a poltergeist though, myself, I'm reluctant to use such a label. Although I did fit the conventional model for such experiences in the popular school of thought, I don't actually believe that a storm of hormone and emotion typical of puberty was responsible.

There was definitely energy 'focussed' on me but not only upon me. At different times, we were subjected to very terrifying experiences and, yet, I was strangely detached, more an observer who occasionally became annoyed than a victim.

I got a rush of adrenaline whenever my mother described the latest event to which she had been witness but that was it. I didn't want to run under my covers and hide.

When objects of mine were destroyed -- while I and the rest of my family were away -- it definitely niggled. I'd had a wall covered with my favourite posters culled painstakingly from magazines over a period of time. One day, returning from school, I discovered that every single eyebrow of every person in each poster (dozens) had been coloured over with black eyeliner. The posters were ruined! And my stick of eyeliner was lying on my dresser. And I wanted to blame somebody, anybody, even my stepfather who had been at work! But there was no one to blame. No one that I could see, anyway.

Again, I was shocked, my heart pumping as my eyes scanned one end of the wall to the other, but I wasn't truly afraid during this episode or during others (and there were many, many more both before and after.)

I find it interesting that I wasn't afraid.

Naturally . . .

Not all of my dreams, alas, are prophetic in nature.

Over the years, I've learnt to tell the difference between prophetic and ordinary dreams but I did stumble in the beginning, missing the cues that distinguish the two kinds.

In my early twenties, dreams that were prophetic were oftentimes very clearly so. A nocturnal foretelling always spoke to an undesirable event in my own life or to a catastrophe such as a plane (or shuttle) crash.

But as I aged, I realized that such dreams were not always necessarily of something profound and I learnt to identify the nuances that marked more mundane events as well, such as the outcomes of shopping trips or superbowl games (in which I had no interest).

Among the differences, I watch all predictive dreams as if viewing them through a yellowish, grainy film, unable to affect the story's unfolding. They're sometimes fragments and, at other times, they're textured with vivid details.

But, anyway, I'm reminded of those earlier difficulties as I recall a couple of dreams that I've had over the past month of George Stroumboulopoulos from CBC's The Hour. Scully will be relieved that they were of the ordinary kind . . .

Freaky Friday -- and funny, too

So, today I'm working out at the gym and I see a good friend of mine whom I haven't seen in a week or so.

"Hey," I tell her. "I had a dream about you the other night."

OK, she's hooked. She turns away from the direction of the class and moves closer.

"I've had the exact dream twice now."

Her eyes brighten and she has a conspiratorial smile on her face. "What is it???" At the gym, we keep my vocation on the D-L.

"Well, it's strange. You take me to this show of some sort, paranormal in nature with readings, products, etc. But it's in a church basement."

She laughs.

"My (bimonthly channelling) group is having a fair/event. It's in the church basement this summer. Guess I'll be taking you!"

"I guess so! See you there."

"Yep, see you there!"

My children and their 'friends'

At bedtime, my almost-six-year-old announces:

"At night, the ghosts come and give me Poe (an Ugly Dragon toy)."

"They what? How do you know?"

"They give me Poe. Every morning, I wake up and I have Poe in my bed." But she doesn't fall asleep with the stuffed animal and neither Scully nor myself ever gives her the toy before at bedtime.

But the heart-stopper? My just-turned-two-year-old, about a half-hour later as I'm lying beside her so she'll fall asleep, says:

"Ghost, Mummy."

"Where?"

"There." She points above her.

"Sad," she says using the sign for sad. "Misses me."

"Is it a lady or a man?"

"A man."

"What's his name?"

I couldn't understand her response. My heartrate still has not returned to normal.

The unprepared . . .

I woke up to my own voice and that of Scully's reassurances in the middle of the night. Apparently, I screamed very loudly.

It's going to take a while, I think, to settle my mind after watching The Uninvited. It was suspenseful, a taut thriller, and full of great twists. I don't usually have frightening dreams after watching a movie in this genre.



By the way, I love the window art ;-)

Dear Ghostiegurl:

Question:

I believe my house is haunted. It dates back to possibly 1902 and mainly is drawn to my children which terrifies them. Can anyone help?

Answer

I love old houses. I think it's a treasure to have a century home. It's my experience that all houses are haunted regardless of age or location.

As to experiences, some people are more sensitive to changes in their environment and, therefore, can see and/or hear ghosts. Children are extremely sensitive in this regard.

It's natural for children -- for anyone -- to be afraid of the unknown. But, once the experience is normalized for them, children will usually settle down. By normalize, I mean that if children see that others are not afraid and are told that such paranormal activity is pretty common, they will take their cues from us. That being said, it's difficult to contain our reactions when a ghost pops out of nowhere or rocking chairs begin to rock on their own.

However, being the parent, you need to trust your intuition where your children are concerned. Just bear in mind that in my many years of readings and conversations, I have never once heard even third hand that someone was injured by a ghost.

Thanks for writing. Hope this helps,

Ghostiegurl.