BooDuring the late '70's and early '80's I gained a reputation as a pretty fair psychic. I never thought about it that much but it seemed a lot of people wanted me to go ghost busting. Here's a couple of little tinglers. Chew on these. I spent a lot of time in a buddy's house down the street from me. While the rest of the crowd was partying in the back of the house I preferred to play the piano in the living room. There was always a sense of being watched, but I attributed it to illicit substances. The house was built around 1950 or so by a local industrialist, so there was no real history to it. The owner was out of state but moving back in and asked me to house sit until her arrival. I was jobless and almost homeless so I said OK. There were floors to sweep and a kitchen to mop. Carpet to lay. There's that watched feeling again. Much later--weeks--I headed for the facility and may as well have run into a defensive lineman. "Look!" I yelled. "I'm still the same person I was! I wear my hair different but I'm the same person!" Back to the piano. The " Moonlight" and some rock stuff from the early '70's. There are two, I thought. One's sitting perpendicular to me and looking out the front door. The other is standing right behind me and studying the music. One night I was out visiting. The house I went to was occupied by a somber spirit I called "Nienna". I had just finished dinner with these folks when I felt some hot flashes and thought about running out the door. The resident cat was staring behind me and I didn't want to see what he saw. The...whatever put a hand on my shoulder. I sat frozen. Later I found that I could've walked into a burglary in progress and been killed. Hair standing up yet? I live in a downstairs flat with four cats and unknown raccoons. The house is old but not decrepit. Occasionally I hear two men in the driveway. Their words are unclear but their cadence and enunciation goes back to the late '30's. There is also something that blows by me in the hallway during my bouts with insomnia. I think I know what it is but I can never be sure. None of this stuff bothers me, I just get my book or log back on. These folks just want to be recognized. |
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