Paranormal Ponderings...

Cool Photo, huh?

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.

Inspired by Ghost Hunters!

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.

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

The little guy who was saved by dreams.

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.

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...

The Little Red Building on the Corner

For several months now I have been intrigued by the little red building on the corner. Day after day, I've seen workers coming and going, and vans and utility trucks driving in and out, busy as bees. The building is quiet now, yet I can tell work still continues inside, and I wonder is it ever going to be finished? And when it is, What's my little red building going to be?

My imagination hasn't exactly run amok with mad ideas, but it has conjured up a few scenarios:

*A cozy cafe/bakery where I can eat lunch or drink a pot of tea and write down delicious story ideas full of quirky sparks and warm bonhomie. On weekend evenings they will offer live entertainment and my husband and I can sit and enjoy a bit of adult, quiet time without having to drive a half hour to get there.

*A new and used bookstore where I will find secret books full of magic and wondrous adventures. Where they have open mike night and I can read my terrible poetry. Where I will meet the eccentric owner and discuss Camus.

*A unique boutique full of wonderful, imaginative clothes just my size.

*All three combined.

Just about every day I drive past the little building and the wait to see what it's going to be has me feeling both frustrated and wonderful, as though I were on an adventure. I want the journey to end, yet I don't. I'd like to get going on acting out my fantasies, you see. But then again, what if I ask and I find out my mystery building is merely going to be someone's house? That would be a very sad day indeed - well, for me, anyway. I'm sure the owners wouldn't agree. Or maybe the building is a
business that sells snow blowers. From the beginning, an orange snow blower has lurked on the porch like an ugly gnome. Are the owners already advertising? Egad, I hope not. I cannot eat pastries on a snow blower.

My little town is great and living here feels like an honor. But I would love to see a special place where people can gather and watch other people going about their lives, where they can talk and eat good food, where they can laugh and cry and sing kumbaya, all in a magical atmosphere that brings you back again and again.

What will the little red building on the corner be? What's your guess?
And please...nothing to do with machines.
A girl's got to dream.

"A Dream Within A Dream"

"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream…" Edgar Allen Poe.

I love that line. Good old Eddie was quite the writer, don’t you think? A little morbid, but he sure knew what he was talking about. Don’t you get that feeling some time? Like your life isn’t really real? That maybe you’ll wake up and realize, "It was all just a dream." What if that really happened to you? Would you be happy to leave the dream and start fresh, or would you feel sad and lost? I’d be sad. Don’t get me wrong, there were, and still are, times when I would’ve preferred to walk away from what was going on in my life. But not right at this moment, even though it’s pouring freezing rain outside and I’m expecting the electricity to go out any second now.

I’m a dreamer myself. I have a lot of dreams - both kinds, conscious and unconscious. When I’m awake my mind never stops spinning with alternate realities…made-up conversations where I am quick and clever, fantasies of saving people or winning the lottery and giving the money to those who really need it (like myself), of becoming successful so I can buy my own castle (yes, I know I’ve mentioned this a few times in other blogs, but I really want a castle, people!). I love my waking dreams. I think that if I were to stop dreaming them, I’d have to be dead.

The dreams keep going at night when I’m sleeping, but they get wackier. I’ve heard some people say that they don’t dream. I think they’re really deep sleepers and just don’t remember what they’ve dreamt. I’ll bet they have a whole world going on inside their head and they don’t even know about it! I happen to be one of those people who sleeps lightly so I get to enter that hidden world all throughout the night. Sometimes that’s a good thing, sometimes it isn’t.

There are many theories out there about why we dream. One theory says that our dreams are random and unrelated to our lives - they’re just brain synapses firing in different areas of your memory. That’s why dreams, these theorists have postulated, can seem so disjointed, jumping from one thing to the next without logical sequence. Well, I’m here to go on record that I totally don’t buy into this theory. I prefer the much more interesting symbolism theory of dreams - totally unscientific of me, I know, but I don’t care. I have found again and again that what I dream about is nearly always related to what is going on in my life at the moment.

For example…

When I am stressed out, I have this awful recurring dream. I dream that I’m back in school again. It might be that I didn’t take a certain class, or I just haven’t yet graduated. The problem is, as I enter the dream I come to realize that I haven’t been going to any of my classes all semester or taking any of the tests. I’m totally failing, but it’s too late to drop the class. Being a bit of an overachiever, I spend the rest of the night trying to rectify the situation. It is my own personal nightmare. One time, I even dreamed that I was back in Kindergarten, but still my current age. Egad. Sitting at those desks was murder on the hips and knees and I just had this feeling like I didn’t belong, that there was something very wrong with this situation.

Well, eventually, I realized what it was. After sitting in that tiny chair and working on my stupid coloring exercise (I hated coloring when I was 5 and I still do), I said, "Hey! I already graduated. I’m outta here!" Of course, now my next dream will be about them taking my diplomas away because I defied them, or maybe because I danced the funky chicken while dressed like one when I was a sophomore in college.

The good thing about these anxiety dreams is that I have learned to take some control in them. I’m not always successful at becoming aware while in my dream and making a change, but I’m getting better at it. The interesting part is that I am starting to do the same thing in real life - becoming aware of the problem and taking control, that is (not the funky chicken while dressed as one, though that would certainly be fun to try).

Depsite the bad dreams, I still like dreaming because I have great dreams, too. My flying dreams are my favorite. Well, actually, it’s more like jumping high into the air and doing flips before landing smoothly and with great agility (there are no chickens in this dream). If I can’t do it in real life, I shall do it in my dreams. I think these dreams have inspired some of what I’ve written about in Anaedor, where the characters can do things most of us only wish we could do. It’s a very powerful thing to be able to turn your dreams into something concrete, even if it is only the written word.

My husband has dreams where his dad (who passed away) tells him what to do, what directions to take in life. He isn’t bossy about it - he never was in life - just wise and gentle. One time my husband had a dream that saved his life. Seriously. He saw his own death, when it was going to be (in 2 days), and what was going to happen (he was going to plug in a huge printer that can only be plugged in when the power is off, but it wasn’t and he was electrocuted and died an awful, horrible death). On the day of his supposed death, he went to work (I ordered him not to plug anything in) and about halfway through the day, his dream kicked in. He actually started living his dream. It started simply enough. His co-worker asked, "Will you plug in that printer?" And my husband, of course, said, "What did you just say?" Because he was experiencing major deja vu at this point. The guy repeated himself and my husband told him, "I can’t. It’s live." The guy denied it, but my husband stayed firm and refused to give in - I think I might have been dead by then, sometimes I can be such a sheep. Finally they tracked down a service guy who could go check on the power. Sure enough, the power was on. Someone had tested the printer the day before and forgotten to shut the power off. Spooky, huh? Needless to say, once the power was off, my husband made sure he was the one to plug in the printer - he figured he had to to break the cycle and end the curse…or something like that.

Okay, this blog ended up a lot longer than I’d planned. But dreams fascinate me and I just couldn’t help myself. I’ll leave you with this thought, then: If our lives are but dreams within dreams…who’s doing the dreaming?