Friday, October 17, 2014

Spirits of Ghosts - True Ghost Stories

Originally published on (the now defunct) Yahoo! Contributor Network Jul 17, 2009

When I was in grammar school, I fell madly in love with a high school senior who played drums in a band. Since I was only 13 years old, my parents wouldn't allow me to go out with him, so he came to our house and visited with my father after Dad sent me to bed (very embarrassing). The following year - my freshman year of high school - George joined the service and was sent to Viet Nam.

Probably because of the age difference, and definitely because of my father, George never kissed me. He never even tried to kiss me, but, filled with the spirit of youth, I held out hope that one day George would become so completely enamored with me that he wouldn't be able to help himself.

He did write to me though - often. And the joy I experienced when I received his letters contrasted sharply with the disappointment I felt when I searched vainly through his letters for any mention of, "I love you." I sifted through page after page of the day-to-day things like, "I had to sit in a tree today," hoping to find one shred of evidence that he loved me. Never did he mention his love for me - the words I longed to see never appeared. He droned on and on about how secretive his mission was and how he was commanded not to tell me anything about what was going on in Viet Nam.

And then one night I had a dream about receiving George's typical letter, which I perused with my usual hopefulness. Again, he made no mention of love, but something unusual appeared in the letter, words that stood out from the rest. I didn't remember immediately upon awakening what they were. And then they slammed me in the head like a set of brick bookends. Clearly written in the letter I had read in my dream were the words, "Oh, by the way, I'm dead."

Several days later his mother called to tell me that George had died (the day I had "read" his letter).

That experience led me to believe that spirits have the ability to visit "loved ones" in dreams, and I convinced myself that, even though he never said the words, the fact that he attempted to maintain contact with me even after he died meant that I was at least somewhat significant to him.

Perhaps the most unusual ghostly appearance I ever experienced, though, came in the early 1970's when I was nineteen years old and studying ESP.

Marilyn and Jeannie, close friends who took breaks and lunches together at the insurance company where they worked, invited me, the newbie, to join them. We became friends and often met outside of work for picnics and other get-togethers.

A couple of months after I met my new coworkers, Marilyn's cousin, Dennis, drove Marilyn to my house for a visit. As Dennis sat in my driveway watching his cousin climb the steps to the home I shared with my parents, sisters, and daughter, I stood in the doorway to welcome Marilyn, and when I looked into the car and saw him, I felt a powerful and instantaneous connection with him that would draw me closer to him every time we got together.

Unlike some of the guys I had met, Dennis treated me with tenderness, affection, and respect. It was an easy relationship that we both took great care to nurture as we waited for our divorces to finalize. We were both still very young, we both had little girls, we shared the same principles, and we loved the same types of music.

Though I was separated from my husband, Dennis was still living with his wife, so we took our time in developing our relationship. Marilyn insisted that his divorce truly was in its final stages and that I had nothing to worry about, but I wanted to go slowly and so did Dennis.

One night when Dennis and I were supposed to get together, and after several nights of my parents reluctantly babysitting, my parents decided that they were so embarrassed by all of the motorcycles rumbling down our street every night that, even though Dennis would be coming without his entourage that night, they refused to babysit any longer if I continued to date the "rebel." I told him I would try to get together with him over the weekend instead.

Because I was deeply involved in enhancing my extra sensory perception (ESP) during that time, I practiced Harold Sherman's How to Make ESP Work For You exercises daily. I surprised people at work (and myself) with my accuracy. It was fun and it was entertaining.

The day after we were supposed to get together, though, I was haunted by my perceptions. I awoke with a queasy feeling and a gnawing suspicion that something was wrong with somebody. I couldn't articulate why I was so upset, however, or whom my feelings referenced. I carried my daughter to the sitter trying not to let my mind run me over with worry. I walked to the bus stop and rode the hour-long bus ride to work, wondering and worrying the whole time about why I was feeling so strongly that something was seriously wrong.

By the time I got to work, I was convinced that if something hadn't been wrong when I awoke, it was going to be wrong at some point during the day. Marilyn didn't show up for work that day, so I told Jeannie about my concerns. I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I couldn't relieve myself of the emotional anguish I was experiencing.

I called my mother, my sisters, my sitter, my friends - everybody and anybody I could imagine. I couldn't eat and I couldn't concentrate on anything other than the thought that something was seriously wrong somewhere.

Jeannie watched me closely throughout the morning and listened to me tell her repeatedly that I knew somebody was in trouble or that somebody was experiencing something truly awful.

Breakfast passed, break passed, lunch passed, but the nagging feeling didn't. By afternoon break, Jeannie told me she couldn't watch me suffer anymore and that she thought she knew why I felt so strongly that something was wrong with somebody - she had heard that the reason Marilyn hadn't come to work that morning was because the night before (the night I was supposed to be riding with him), Dennis had been killed in a motorcycle accident.

We called Marilyn's house to verify the rumor and discovered that Dennis had been run over by a Pepsi truck on the night I was supposed to go riding with him.

Instantly I knew that Dennis was the reason I felt as I did and that even people I knew for only a short while could impact me with so much power that no matter how long I'd known them or how much time I'd spent with them, my life had forever been changed because of them. I was soon to discover just how deeply I had affected HIM.

That night, after I pulled the string from the ceiling light and placed my head on my pillow, I heard a jumbled whisper of words in my ear. Everything I'd learned about ESP dissolved. In terror I flew out of bed to turn on the light, my heart pounding. I slept with the light on that night, apologizing over and over to Dennis for being afraid, but unable to stop myself from feeling the fear.

The following night, as I sat on my bed, after turning off the light, I felt a hand touch my shoulder. Scared out of my skin, I jumped off the bed and turned on the light deciding never again to study ESP. For years afterward, I slept with the light on and never again felt his presence.

I learned something from those experiences. WE ARE energy and we either attract people to us or repel people from us. Energy surrounds us and energy impacts us whether through attraction or repulsion. When another person's energy embraces ours in a loving affectionate manner, we can feel that warmth even after the person is gone, because, as any scientist will tell us, energy never dies.

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