Trail Journal Entry 3

My husband and I spend a lot of time together. He is my best friend and I am his. We hate being apart from each other. Often after the kids go to bed we sit out in the tool shed together. He set up internet, heat, light and radio for me in there because that is where I like to sit and he sits out there with me. Sometimes we talk or just listen to the radio or surf the net.

One night we are sitting on the stools in the tool shed, facing each other talking. I am looking at him and he’s talking to me and all of a sudden his eyes get big and his gaze goes from my face to my chest area. First thing I think is, spider, I hate those things. I look down. There is the string of my hoodie I was wearing suspended between a 1/4” and ½” in the air. It was moving smoothly over to the far right side from the middle of my chest where it was resting while I was sitting there. I didn’t move, I just watched it kind of float over and set down on the outside of my hoodie against my breast, I felt the finger push into my breast.

I looked up at my husband and his eyes are big. He points and says to me, did you see that? Yes, I did and I felt it too, I told him. He starts laughing and says that is f*^#ing awesome! Maybe for you I told him. It is not for me.

I don’t like being touched, especially by the “others” (my name for them) but they like to touch me. I don’t know if it’s to let me know they are there, if they think it’s funny because of how mad I get about it or what. I just know I don’t like it. Had one that used to play with the curls in my hair until I cut my hair off. I would be sitting at the computer and I would feel my hair moving, a finger twirling a curl on my head. I know when it’s one of others because I get a tingly feeling or the air will feel static.  I get mad, turn around and yell at them to stop playing with my hair and stop touching me. Some I will get a tingly feeling from and others it is like getting an electrical shock. I don’t know why. I never know what to expect so I would rather not be touched by any of them. I don’t even like people touching me to be honest.

There are bad ones out there, just like there are bad people I guess. Some, I don’t know what they are, but I know I don’t like them and they don’t like me. Again, I don’t know why. My husband and I were walking the block from our home to the store one afternoon; we were at the corner of our street. As I got by the house on the end (2 doors down from me), I squatted down to look into the neighbours basement window because I heard whispering as I was walking by. It took me a couple seconds to realize what I was looking at through the window. It’s like that song from Sesame Street, which of these things is not like the other? I just know something is not right and think what is wrong with this picture. It was so dark in that window which seemed odd to me considering the sun position, being the corner house and corner window. I got back up and hurried over to where my hubby was waiting for me to catch up. What’s the matter, he asked. I heard whispering so I took a look, I said. He stopped and said, so did I, I thought I was hearing things. Nope, I heard them. There are a couple of them in the basement, small dark ones. Ones that kind of like, suck the light out of a room, I said. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, both were whispering at the same time but they knew I could see and hear them. I told hubby I didn’t want him going into that house anymore. The tenants had moved in a few months before and he became friends with the guy there and had gone over a few times previously. He didn’t listen to me. I didnt even want write about what happened. I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown and so did my husband. I know it sounds crazy but there are bad ones out there.

I am like a Jane of all trades and a master of none when it comes to all the things I have experienced or am able to do. I often know who is calling or what song is coming next on the radio. My husband calls me a show off. One afternoon his cell is ringing in the kitchen and I tell him to answer it, that it is his Mother. He looks at his screen yes, it is his Mother. He talks to her for a few minutes and hangs up. A few minutes later, his phone is ringing again. I tell him he had better answer, that it is his sister. Both times, I was in another room; he was in the same room as his phone. He looks at his phone display and laughs. Says it’s his Niece not his sister. He answers and it is his sister. She borrowed her daughters phone to call my husband. He starts laughing, says, no way, and tells his sister what happened with both calls. He called his Mom back to tell her too. Called me a show off. I do other things like that too. I don’t know if its luck, coincidence, or any kind of talent but I do admit I like playing around with the simple stuff but I don’t know how to control it, it just happens when it happens for me.

I don’t know why I can see stuff that others can’t. You would be amazed at what is out there that you can’t see. I was walking out of my bedroom late one morning, heading straight down the hall to the laundry room and I stopped right there in my tracks. Some guy ran across in front of me, from the laundry room through into the kitchen. He was bent over from the waist up, squatting low and running. It looked like he was trying not to be seen, that is the impression I got. He looked to be about five foot seven to five foot eight in height. Slim build, short dark hair about 20-23 years of age or around there. He was wearing jeans, white runners and a light coloured long sleeved shirt that had the one tail hanging out of the jeans. Sometimes I can see in colour and sometimes it’s black and white with shades of grey. I stand there then turn left and walk into the living room where my son was sitting on his iPad. He looks up and asks if I am okay. I mentioned about the laundry not folded and he asks me again if something is wrong. I am looking towards the kitchen, which you can access from the laundry/entry way or from the living room and tell him; yeah I have to do something. I walk into the kitchen, look around, and then walk over to the basement stairs. I yelled down the stairs to stop running in my house or else. Yes, I said exactly that and yes, you may laugh. I didn’t know what else to do and I don’t like being startled and I have rules in my house and I don’t care if you are alive or dead frankly. It’s my house, my rules, my way or the highway, even for them. I didn’t catch him running anymore in the house after that, sometimes they just need ground rules when the lines overlap. Sometimes, they just like to break the rules.

Quite often, I have found that when they realize you can interact with them or you acknowledge them, they will get braver in their actions and attempts at communication. It is fascinating to experience, just wish I could remember to ask questions when it happens. I asked Father Jim once, why me? Why do I see them and how do they know I can see them? Why do they see me? All he said was that I was a beacon for them. I understand that but I don’t understand that. I still don’t know why.




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