My love of the paranormal has taken me many places over the last several years. It has put me in places and predicaments I would have never imagined. The feeling of hair standing up on the back of my neck is now a comforting feeling. It lets me know someone or something is around me. The one place that I’d never thought to examine the paranormal though, was my own mind.
We as investigators seldom stop to think about the spirit/entity as we are investigating. How do we make them feel? Why do we keep bugging them when we know they’re wanting peace? How do we impact or appease the spirits, and another good question is: do they even want us to communicate with them? From a ghost’s point of view, are we the impostors? I’m stirring the pot with this, hypothetically of course. This is their story.
For the thousandth time today, it seems as if Id picked up the same toys that my young son has pulled out of his toy crate. The argument I had with my husband seems to replay in my mind as I hear dogs barking in the distance and the sound of thunder, again. It’s all starting to rip through me, causing my teeth to chatter. Every day, it’s the same monotonous events, that never change or alter. Pretty soon I know there will be strange people coming to try and talk to me. They want to know why we are here-again. They want to know why we won’t leave-again. Always the same questions they ask, always thinking they can help, but never a real solution.
Truth be told it’s all simple. We’re here because this is our home. Why should we have to leave our home? That’s none of their business, and I don’t talk to strangers. Never have and I never will. I am a modern woman of 1892 but I feel there is a line that you shouldn’t cross with people that are not in your community, and none of these people are. They wear garish clothing made from who knows where, with face paint and hair the likes of which I’ve never seen nor want to see. They carry strange tools with them, and they speak into these things! Waving around wands as if they are Merlin himself from the round table! I have enough stress in my home without dealing with the likes of strangers!
My very favorite question they always ask me, is what happened to us. How did you die? I am most certainly not dead! If I were dead, do you think I’d be picking up after my son over and over again, or fighting with my husband at the dinner table? Just because I can’t remember anything after that man with a gun came into our home while we were eating doesn’t mean I’m dead. I’m just…. forgetful. Why can’t I make these strange people leave me and my family alone? What have we done to deserve this lunacy? If there is a God, why is he not hearing my prayers?
This is just a small writing of what I feel a spirit may be feeling. I know that we all have our differences of opinion though. I’ve always been concerned about what I wanted out of this, and it never occurred to me to wonder if they still feel things, and how we affect their quality of life on different levels. We are quick to believe they want to pass to “the other side” but do they really want to? Who are we to judge? I think before I do my next investigation, I’m going to stop and think about some of these things because this just hit me like a freight train. Happy hunting!