Vintage Agenda

I was a shy and homely little girl who had problems sleeping… I always had the permeated feeling of being watched when alone and most vulnerable. Notwithstanding the possibility of being brainwashed watching Dr.Shock on Saturday afternoons or any other menagerie of scary movies without parental control. Looking back, I definitely would have preferred to live out my childhood without being exposed to the plethora of ghastly horrors presented for entertainment purposes.

However, these shows were a potion of fear in small proportion. Humans have an insatiable desire to be frightened; especially young people. Is there another reason to watch scary movies? You see… I understood even as a child; this was just make-believe…. I would never experience the monster under my bed. It was silly. Sometimes I believed I was born an old soul…

But ??? My mother… She was Pennsylvania Deutsch and the folklore stories shared about the Boogie Man and Old Harry (the devil) were embed into my very being. Although explanations were not usually offered, her predictions and answers were usually dead on. She would occasionally ramble about the special book on the mantle next to the Bible. Mommy was a small woman with a childlike demeanor and everyone loved her. She also possessed a sarcastic sense of humor with remarkable intuition and a sharp tongue when angered.

Gradually, I made her very angry… She did not like to explain my nightmares or the sleep-walking through a glass door(which earned me a trip to the hospital and lots of stitches in my right arm). She did not want to explain why I would talk in my sleep in a seemingly foreign language or get dressed for school in the middle of the night while sleeping with my eyes open. She always knew the answer but refused the explanation. Her response to my questioning a recurring nightmare consisting of dead people walking in the yard at night; Classic!, “The dead people can’t hurt you. It’s the living ones you gotta worry bout!”

I suppose after a while she became uncomfortable with the inquiries. She would say, “You are too smart for your own good.”, and then play stupid. Mommy was very protective and loved me very much but… She knew things; lots of things… Over time, her frustration with me escalated to the breaking point… Mommy yelled at me, “Stop reading my mind! You are doing it again! You think you can do it, don’t you?” Eventually she went into complete lock down and blocked me mentally…

So I blocked her as well. I kept my secrets about my dead brother and dead grandmother coming to visit me at night. I was so scared!!! I wanted to ask mommy why a faded outline of my brother was always in the corner of the room just floating in the air talking to me! His lips were moving but I couldn’t hear him!!! He would switch corners on different nights but he always floated in the corners! Why does he only stay in the corners? I would learn the answer later in life, but that would be another post… In regards to my grandmother, I never actually saw her. She had recently passed away; I felt her presence and knew it was her. I pretended to be asleep because I was scared, but Grandmother was gentle. I felt the right-side of the bed compress as she sat down to stroke my hair for a moment. I would compare it to being tickled with a feather. She didn’t stick around too long. Grandmother just wanted to say goodbye…

I continued to suffer long after my brother and grandmother left me… There were others? I felt the almost suffocating thickness in the air while I lay awake in my bed pretending not to know they were there. My intuition told me “I was prey”; they were interested in me for some reason. I thought it might be my youth and vulnerability or even worse; these spirits may have discovered my sensitivity to their presence. I was petrified!!! Later in life, I realized it was little of both… It was at this time in my young life, I applied a trick learned from my mother; I mentally blocked the spirits. It seemed to get rid of them. It was either that or the cat my mother gave me…

One day I just put my childish dreams away and life went on. I grew older and started a family. Life was normal until… my father died. Suddenly the past came flashing back… My father would come to me in dreams and I would wake up in tears. I could smell him in the living room… I didn’t talk to my family about it and Dad really didn’t bother anyone. He just kind of hung out once in a while. We moved shortly after his death and he tagged along. He stayed with me for years…

One evening I was sitting at the kitchen table going through an old box of photos. I had just stumbled across an old poem written for my Mother. I wrote it the day my brother died. It was titled “Draw an Angel for Mommy”. I began to weep. All of a sudden I felt a cold rush of air up my back and just like the movies; the papers on the table fluttered and fell to the floor. This was followed by the strong scent of my father’s cologne. He wants attention now? I left and returned home after picking my son up from a friend’s house.

The following day was Saturday. My son was a teenager and he was home alone when I left for work in the morning. This would be the day of validation of everything I already knew… The childhood spirits were real…and my father’s ghost was real… It wasn’t emotional stress nor figment of my imagination; and the “sensitivity” was hereditary!

My son called me … His voice was shaking and I could feel him trembling through the phone. He was trying to whisper, “Mom, you gotta come home! Now!” I asked him what was wrong but part of me already knew. He replied almost crying, “Grandpa is in the laundry room!” I tried to play stupid like my mother used to do but I was feeling nervous for my son. I replied “No he’s not! I can’t leave work. What happened?”Then my son became angry. I was busted!

My son said, ” You know he is here! I can tell by the sound in your voice! Why did you go to work and leave me here? Why didn’t you tell me? I gotta get out of this house! He keeps calling my name!!!” Later that day when I came home, I sat down with my son and shared my knowledge of his Grandpa’s presence. Let’s just say, “We dealt with it.” My father has moved on now…

However, my son and I both began to experience paranormal activity after that. It was intensified by the fact my son broke a cardinal rule in my house. The same rule existed in my mother’s house. ” Never touch, make, or bring a Ouija board into our home!” My son and his friends constructed a Ouija board out of cardboard and got all freaked out over the results… I wasn’t made aware of their dirty little secret until much later; after the damage was done.

The result was non-stop paranormal activity. I also experienced lucid dream activity including talking to dead people, sleep paralysis, residual haunting, and night flight aka astral travel. I want to add these events occurred naturally on a regular basis without effort to learn it, only to stop it! I became quite annoyed as it affected my sleep schedule. It would suffice to say this activity could be the making of several more posts which I’m not totally convinced to begin…

But in the Spirit of Halloween… Back to the Ouija Board. My son wasn’t the only one who broke the house rule. I inadvertently broke it myself. I accidentally experimented with a Ouija board. It was a vintage 1970’s Parker Brothers Ouija Board Game!!! HA HA!!! I’m kidding right? It’s a kids game, right? NO!!!

My advice is to never ever play with any kind of Ouija Board!!! It is not a toy! They really work! One can easily release bad juju… It doesn’t have to be an antique or expensive board either. It can be a homemade board or a vintage 1970’s Parker Brothers Board! The essential ingredient for making contact is willful concentration and belief. That’s it! No batteries required…

My next post will be about my experiment with the Ouija Board. It is not the experience I ever expected or want to repeat…

Happy Halloween!
Mess Penny