Catching up

Been busy around here so I haven’t had much chance to blog the last several days. I thought I’d try to condense events and get them in here before it gets to be too much.
The symbol of the fox has come clear…and its attached to a dream I had a few days ago of a field of 100s of aloe vera plants. I googled fox+aloe vera, and one of the 1st links that came up was an article by a woman named Foxe about a skin condition called Mycosis Fungoides, which I had never even heard of before ( have you???). Its a rare type of skin cancer often misdiagnosed as exczema. Mild to be sure and easily treated with creams and lotions and other natural things like…you guessed it…aloe vera. But if left for too long, it can spread to the lymph nodes and then becomes something else to deal with altogether. I read the article with growing apprehension ( and, strangely, relief). My husband has had an odd looking rash type thing for years. Doc called it exczema. Looks like Mycosis to me, so he has an appt booked for Friday to check it out.
Thanks, whichever Spirit pointed that out to me!!!!

And recently things have gotten noisy. The last two nights something has been falling on our roof. There are no trees or higher buildings or anything near by. Unless someone was purposely throwing things up onto our roof its pretty much impossible for something to fall onto it. And I’d believe a large bird landing maybe once, but two nights in a row? In the same spot? And last night twice? 5 Minutes apart? Plus, no bird is going to make the girlish giggle I heard ( but my husband didn’t. ).
If I hear it aagan tonight, I’m going to go outside and see what i can see.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…well ok, my store ( I own a store), the girl who runs my shop when I’m not able to be there had a very interesting day yesterday. When I got back she told me sales had been very slow, so I apologized for a boring day for her and she said, “Well, no, it was actually quite interesting.”
Why’s that, I wondered.
Apparently, things kept falling down and she kept hearing the sound a tennis ball being tossed against a wall coming from my office. Luckily, nothing that fell was truly breakable, but I do have a display rack that is now canted oddly to one side and I cant quite get it bent back the right way. Hooligans.
And speaking of which…a $100 bill went missing from my purse in a room that was empty of all but me, and I’d be really grateful if they’d bring it back. What can they possibly spend it on anyway, and I have bills to pay…
OKay, thats it for now. The blog is caught up. Till next time…

3 symbols

A name, a fox, and the number 5. These keep coming to me. Even my small daughter said she saw a fox in the park…we dont have foxes here, so its probably a coyote. I’m suspecting the fox is actually Guy Fawkes, and it stands for some sort of traitorous act or betrayal. That came to me in a forum post from a woman talking about Halloween. The name Guy Fawkes almost literally leapt off the page to me and I just knew. A spirit around me is upset over something, and I think its something his wife is or was doing. I can’t figure out the 5 yet, and I’m not 100% sure that the 5 is even related to this spirit. But its there so I’m including it here since this is kind of a case study. The name is the name of the wife.
I’ll keep posting info as I have it.

A Letter to An Old Love

Dear P.,
Its been over three years since you have died. I look at your beloved face in our old photographs and want to scream, beg, cry, go find someone and knock them down over and over until they promise to bring you back.
I look at your strong arms that held me so close and kept me safe in an unfamiliar city and made your home become my home too, your strong chest with a heart inside it that beat so strong and steady against my cheek at night, your strong stomach that tightened with laughter when I attempted a complicated French sentence in my o-so-American atrocious accent. How can someone so vibrant, so full of everything, so handsome, so gloriously, beautifully alive, just cease to be?
How can one Summer have changed my life forever, and one night 2 decades later change it all again? How did you find the strength to come so very very far to be sure I knew you were still there. To tell me that that one Summer changed you too. How could you die when I have not seen you for so long? Talked to you in so long? How could you leave without my having a chance to say goodbye in person? What would have happened if I had found you before you got sick? How can I grieve so hard for you when we haven’t been together for 24 years?
Because I do. I do grieve. It doesn’t feel like it can be real. Someone made it up, surely. Because you will always be there. Right there, right on the Rue De Varenne, in that same flat, with the burlap covered walls and the Indian poster, and the bizarre foam bed. You are immortal to me. You will always drive that old brown Mercedes, and you will always be waiting there for me outside the metro with a dozen pink roses and a smile. You can NOT not be there. Its not possible, because this world is not the world I was meant to be in if you are not out there in it somewhere.
So I will wait for you to come again, and I will look for you in everything, and I will hear you in the wind, and I will feel you in my heart, and I will carry on knowing that when my time comes you will be there singing Elvis to guide me home to where you are.

“Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes some things are meant to be”

Poor Kitty

My Own Sweet Kitty. Gone more than 13 years now.

Had to take my dog to the vet today. She’s fine, just a mild infection that some antibiotics should clear up in a few days, but they did need to take some xrays. I waited in the reception area, engrossed in a magazine article about older pet health.
I didnt notice her come in, but I did hear a gasp and sob and looked up to see a young woman standing at the counter holding a pet carrier, the type you’d put a cat or small dog in. The reception room was very full, maybe 12 people and their assorted animals in it so I really didn’t get a good look at the carrier, could not see inside of it. But my first thought was, “Oh, that cat is dead.” And in the next second my logical mnind chimed in and said, “Now why would she bring a deceased cat to the vet? Its probably very sick or she’s brought it here to be put down or something, and how do you even know its a cat in the first place, you Goober.” Certainly a good reason for the sobs, and seemed to make more sense than bringing a dead cat to the vet.
All of this went through my head in about a second and a half. Then I went back to my magazine with a pang of sympathy for the sad young woman and her clearly beloved pet. Next thing I heard was the receptionist asking the young woman if she could help her. And the woman said, the poor dear, “My cat passed away last night. She needs to be cremated.”
So I was right. I had sensed the sweet kittie’s spirit–or lack thereof–right away. Wish I had just trusted my sense instead of falling back to my logical mind. Shows me how much I still have to learn with all of this.

A Visit from the Frenchman #1

I call this #1, even though its maybe #30, because its the first one I’ve blogged about, and I know it wont be the last. As creative as I can be with titles, I suspect I’ll run out of cute titles for the amount of blogs I write about this ghost so I’ll just order them like this. Easy peasy.
Anyhoo…He decided to stop in for a bit last night. Right in the middle of dinner, of all times. Thank goodness my daughter had already finished and was off drawing and coloring something. My husband had cooked, and he likes to turn on satellite radio on the TV as dinner music when he does. Its sweet so I humor him with it, even though I find it mildy distracting.
So, suddenly I’m hearing the Elvis song, Our Song ( the Frenchman and I), and its a totally random song in the middle of other unrelated songs ( which is a frequent method he employs for letting me know he’s around), and here comes the stomach roll and the Pulled Taffy feeling, and I know he’s there. I think I’m carrying it off, but apparently not, because my husband says to me,
“You okay?”
And I say, “Fine”, and I can hear my own voice sounds foreign…dull and indistinct and low…very low.
And he says, “Whats going on?”
and I say, “You know whats going on.”
and he says, “You need a minute?”
and I shake my head and say, “Talk to me..It’ll ground me.”
So he proceeds to tell me his day.
And meanwhile, my Frenchman is just hanging around, letting me know he’s there but otherwise not creating a fuss. And eventually, the stomach rolls resolve themselves into some mild acid indigestion ( why the heck I get an upset stomach–and usually some form of headache though not so much when the Frenchman appears and not last night–I do NOT understand and wish it’d quit) which a couple of decent discreet burps settle, and then the night proceeds on as normal…
As uncomfortable as the whole thing sounds, I actually love it when he visits. Something about a man who loved you 20 years ago, who is three years gone still making sure you’re okay and showing how deeply he cares just puts an awful lot of things into perspective about the way life and love outta be…

Pranksters

My computer just turned off by itself.
I hate it when they do that.
Hooligans, I tell ya, worse than teenagers.

A Sense of Humor

Okay, so silly as it may sound, about 10 days ago I bought a digital voice recorder. My logic is this: I can feel them, and sometimes hear and see them but no enough to really communicate with them in any real way. Not enough to find out what it is they need from me, or even if they DO need anything from me, or if they just happen to be there and I feel them. What happened with the Faire Ghost last weekend is rare..I was actually able to connect that spirit with his grown son. That RARELY happens though. Usually if I can even manage to figure out who they are I feel blessed. So I thought maybe, just maybe, this recorder might help me communicate. I’m not taking it out and recording random whatever, like a ghost hunter going to a cemetary or some haunted house and recording empty air to see if he stumbles on something. I dont need to do that, I know when they’re there. So it’s been sitting since I got it waiting for the right chance for me to use it.
Well, that chance was today. I was in my bedroom, doing my hair when I heard someone say, ‘Hi”. Breathy, indistinct, almost a voice in my head. I stopped what I was doing and said hello back, then asked what I could do for them. There was a reply but it was so faint and garbled I couldn’t make it out. So I said, “Wait right there, I have an idea.”
I dashed out to my purse, gabbed the recorder, set it up in the bedroom and told the spirit to go ahead and leave me a message.
I recorded about 7 and a half minutes.
Most of it is blank hiss and ambient noise, but very near the beginning, maybe 20 or 30 seconds into it, you hear me walk out of the room, and you quite clearly–as I’m walking out, hear a voice say a single word. Its breathy and low, but it’s right into the recorder, as though someone leaned into it and whispered.
The word, you ask? I swear, this ghost has a sense of humor, because I cant make this up….
“Boo.”

Sometimes I Get Lonely

Most of the time I’m okay with being more or less the only one I know who does this exactly the same way I do it, who feels things the way I feel them. I know there MUST be others out there, but I haven’t found any where the experience is really the same. I search bookstores for books that might help me understand or even further my abilities, or just let me feel like there is someone else out there who feels what I feel. I haven’t found one, not one, that’s like me. Most–not all- of the books feel so hoax-ey or cheesy. Its all lovely and soft and warm and fuzzy and overly New Agey…not that I’m opposed to that, I’m as frou frou as they come about a lot of the New Age stuff. I’m a triple Pisces, how could I not be a tree hugger/astrology lover/fairy believer??? But what I experience when I run across a ghost is NOT like that. Its just not. So I feel like I’m all alone out there.
I’ve been particularly depressed about this in the last couple of weeks. Maybe thats partly why I started this blog..to feel like there’s someone I can talk to, even if it ends up just being a computer monitor.
I hope someday someone wanders across this blog who feels what I feel, knows what I know, and is inspired to introduce themselves. I’ve been out trying to find other blogs like mine..I’ve come across a couple that aren’t exactly like me, but at least similar, and said hello, but I dont know if they’ll reciprocate…
Its like throwing messages in glass bottles out to sea…
Hmmm…

Found the Ghost

The next morning at the same Fair I spoke to a gentleman whose booth was directly next to the area where I had felt the presence.  He knew of 2 people who were a regular part of this fair who had died recently.  I’m not sure how we got on the subject, but I was able to ask him how they had both died. Both of them from cancer, different kinds. 

“Well, they’re not my ghost then.” I thought.

The conversation went on and he sarted telling me about how as he got older the idea of having outlived his father, who had died at age 47, was very odd to him. He was now 55 and he thought about that often.  He also told me his dad is seen and felt frequently by his mother, who still lives in the same house: an apartment over an old theatre building they own and run.  A niggling sensation went through my stomach and I asked him, “How did your dad die?”

“Heart attack,” he said, “He had a heartattack and died”

There’s my ghost.

I was able to tell him that his dad was still with him, but I think he already knew that.  Mystery solved.

Faire Ghost

I’m at a Faire. I was walking up one of the lanes, rather heavily laden with plates of food for both my lunch and for dinner later and there came the familiar pulled taffy feeling. I call it that when a Presence makes itself known, Pulled Taffy, for the rolling feeling in my stomach, the tingle down and up my spine, and the feeling of being stretched away from myself is exactly how I’d imagine taffy to feel in a puller were it capable of conscious thought.
So here comes the Taffy and I jerk my head up for it seems to be coming from above the crowd. And then my heart starts to hammer and I feel a weight on my chest and each breath seems to take a very long time to inhale.
And then it slowly passes.
So who was this person who had a heart attack? When did he or she have it? What is their story and why are they here?

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