� 2001-2006 by Shiloh
�
I have a pretty good imagination and a tendency to let it run amuck when I have nothing to do or when I'm reading and my mind wanders as I start drifting in the between place of sleep and wakefulness. And especially after I've seen/read an intense or spooky movie/book. There's a lot I've imagined seeing/hearing. But there are things--other things--I don't think I've imagined.
Like dreaming of (seeing?) Grannie three months after her death. And having a convo with her.
Like feeling unseen presences near me or rushing at me. (I may have imagined this one, but at the time it felt so real.)
Like hearing voices when all is dark and nobody's around.
And...like two nights ago when I was in bed reading.
It had to be going on one o' clock. Yes, I was getting tired, but I was in to my book. The one about the ghosts by Lynn Kurland, and I was nearing the end. All the sudden two things happened. My attention abruptly shifted from the book I held and focused on my surroundings. I tensed as I thought I sensed somebody. I shifted my gaze subtly to look above the pages. Then it happened.
My expectation was this: Dad was coming to pick out a movie from the ceiling-high bookcase he'd made specifically for all the movies we have and was going to pass by my door to get to the movies. (The movies are next to my door.) I saw something pass by my door all right, but it wasn't Dad.
It was opaque and had really no defined features, so to speak. But it had enough of an outline that it looked like...a human form slipping past the doorway.
I am not making this up, I swear! I may do some things like post funny emails to entice readers to this page, but making something up like seeing what I just described above is not one of them. It spooked me but good. It wasn't Dad and it wasn't Jon, but I received the impression it was male. Perhaps that's because I expected Dad to come walking by. Why he would at that hour escaped my usual logic in knowing he wouldn't be down at that time of night--not for a movie anyway. He's an early-riser.
I was very nervous after that, as you can imagine. My desire to read more lessened quite considerably, but I finished the chapter. I couldn't become engrossed in the book as I had been, and while turning pages I would serepitiously look toward my doorway, checking to see if this "being" passed the other way. It never did. And last night as I started the first novel of Xanth, I waited to see if it (the experience) woulld repeat itself. It didn't.
I almost wish it would. That way, I would know I wasn't imagining it...or the rest of the things I've "experienced." All these things felt or seemed very real at the times they occurred, but now I can't help but wonder--with the exception of Grannie--if all these things were from my very, very vivid imagination. Part of me wonders--again--if I'm going crazy, if I'm manifesting traits of the chemical imbalance that's genetic in my family. Another part is wondering if it is real and can be an idea for a book that's uniquely mine. I just don't want to be crazy.
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A look into The Golden Girls:
Dorothy: Listen Ma, we cannot afford a new TV. We're using the household money to repair the roof and repave the driveway.
Sophia: Great, and what am I supposed to do while every other old lady on the block is watching Cosby?
Dorothy: Well, you can sit in the new driveway and hope that an amusing black family drops by.
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