Thursday, October 11, 2012

Ghost Stories

I listened to a story on Pseudopod this morning on my way in to work. It put me in a funny head space. It's a ghost story, and it got me thinking about ghosts, the supernatural, and things of that nature. It's also probably because Halloween is approaching and the veil between worlds seems thinner than usual.

Anyway, I'm in a writing sort of mood now. I've had a few experiences with the non-living/non-human realm. Usually in my sleep, but not always. When I was little, like J's age til maybe 13 (not sure when this ended) I had a dream fairy. She came to me and we'd talk. She was motherly, small, and shades of gray and lavender. She wore a gray coarse-woven dress with an apron, her hair tucked into a bun behind her head, and her small pointed ears were delicate. Her face was wrinkled, so I know she was terribly old. She visited me less as I got older. I think I met her once since J was born. She was always a great comfort. I suppose she technically doesn't belong with ghost stories, but that's where I'm putting her for now.

My younger sister was haunted by something we called (well, *I* called, she didn't talk yet) her "black man" - not in any racial way, it was an entity composed entirely of blackness except for its red eyes. I saw it when I was tiny (2-3 years old) and drew a picture of it for my mom. It haunted us for years, I remember even sensing it into my teen years (my dear departed friend helped us to finally release its grip on my sister, actually).

When we moved to a new house (our third, perhaps) when I was about 6 or 7, my baby brother (5 years my junior) started picking up German words (he didn't start speaking English til age 2, and then in full sentences).  Nobody in our house spoke German. My sister and I thought there were leprechauns in the attic.Years later my mom told me that there had been an old man there who spoke to my brother in German. She and my dad had worked together to help him move on, though I never got the sense that he was a malevolent force.

Now we get to my friend. She came to me in my dreams, frequently, right after her death. She was very upset, very angry. I was given the impression that my sister and I were supposed to get tattoos to remember her, something which I would like to talk to my sister about in further detail.  It took me several consecutive visits before I thought to ask her whether she knew she was dead. She was recalcitrant about the subject, though she finally answered I don't know. Maybe. Yes. It's not fair! I asked if she'd let her mother and another friend of ours help her, so she wouldn't be so angry. She hasn't visited me since, but our friend has told me that since then she's been able to communicate more to find out exactly what happened the night Kristen died. Hopefully this will resolve so she can be at peace. It breaks my heart that she's been stuck here like this.

If you were to ask me if I believe in ghosts, I would have to say yes. Perhaps I'm crazy, or silly, or superstitious, but these experiences (and others) are evidence enough for me.

Now it's time for some audience participation! (You surely saw this coming, right?)

Share your own ghost stories below, don't be shy! All are welcome. It's the spirit of the season, is it not? Dia de los Muertos and all that.

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