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2.19.7

Me, myself and the stranger in the room...

When I was seven, I saw my first ghost. I was lying in bed on a cold winters night. I shared a room with my sister who was two years younger but ten years ahead of me in the bad behavior department. She snored away and I lay in my bed across the other side of the room, waiting for sleep to consume me.

In the darkness there came a white shimmering woman. She glided across the room, from the door to the window, like a living breathing person. There was nothing supernatural about her as she pulled the curtains apart and raised the window, letting the cold air rush in.

I watched her, knowing she was no one I had ever seen before, but in my delerium I suppose I wanted to believe she was my mother. She made her way over to my bed. Her white nightgown shimmering supernaturally like rolling waves during a full moon, and when she stood over me I saw that this was not a woman. This was not a person. This faceless creature who stood over me and without a sound pulled my covers up over my face as if I wasnít there.

I donít remember much after that. I woke up the next morning, half-heartedly expecting my mother to be standing by the stove, making pancakes in a shimmery white night gown. Instead I found my mother rummaging through the refrigerator...in a bubblegum pink fleece pajama. I never told her about the lady in white.

This is the story of my life.

I have seen the supernatural in its many guises. UFOís hovering in a quiet sky. Stray apparitions pacing the hallways, or changing the tv channels...calling my name. There was a time in my life when I believed I was an alien abductee; waking up in cold dark rooms, on metal gurneys. Experiencing loud, incessant buzzing in my head until I felt my head would explode.

I spoke to my dead grandfather in my dreams. I saw glimpses of future events that came to pass like old memories. I made eye contact with a werewolf once. True story. Maybe Iíll tell you about it someday.

Iíve been around the esoteric block, time and again and I know that no matter how normal I can pretend to be, this is who I am. Sometimes I think the universe calculated my existence so perfectly that no matter what I do, I will always come face to face with the unknown.

When I was three weeks old, my parents took me to the movie theatre, to see CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND. When I was one I disappeared from the front stoop, where my parents had me strapped in a car seat between them. For years they tried to figure out what happened. After hours of searching, they found me in a locked toolshed, muttering and pacing.

When I was eight I had an experience that has been very hard to reconcile with, to this day. No matter where I look (whether it be the internet, or the best books written on the esoteric), I have yet to find something even remotely close : I witnessed a congregation of floating heads. I will spare you the details.

But things only got stranger. From the phantom footfalls on the third floor of my house, to the tall, aqualine female ghost that haunted my dorm room in college. I sometimes feel like a magnet. And I often worry that one day I will attract something dark and sinister. Something I will not be able to shake off.

I am not crazy. Oh, far from it. I donít dwell on my experiences. In fact I remain skeptical of them all. I have deduced many of them to the simplest of explanations. Many of them I attribute to an overactive imagination, or dreams. Even those experiences in which I was accompanied by witnesses...all of them have an alternative explanation as far as I can see.

It is this attitude that equips me with the well rounded perspective of someone who can look into the paranormal, and still come back with a firm grip on reality.

I have seen the face of the unknown...and it has seen mine. Consider us old friends.


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