Thursday, November 13th, 2014.
Cathi was home sick for the second day in a row. I had felt progressively more and more lousy since last night. I had given up sleeping. My muscles were aching and burning, I couldn’t get comfortable.
So I got up around 6:30 am and tried to blog, couldn’t. Didn’t just feel lousy in the physical sense, I had pins and needles in my head and couldn’t concentrate.
About mid afternoon, I tried again, went and laid down, said a couple prayers, tried to relax tension that kept finding new ways to sneak up on me.
But I finally did fall asleep. And had a couple dreams in a short time.
The most vivid sequence: I dreamed I was in a bed and there was a doorway to another room at the foot of that bed and a window in the room beyond the doorway.
I heard something and raised my head to see a black shadow form of a human being. I thought it was a man or a male, by the shape of the shadow’s head, no long hair shadow. Also it looked like a solid shadow, a three dimensional one.
I drifted away from that dream and came back and told the shadow to go away, it wasn’t supposed to be here. And I started waking up, or at least dreaming I was waking up, hovering between states in a place that wasn’t quite ‘here’.
It took a while, but a child’s voice came into focus. At least it sounded like a child’s voice, a boy’s. It sounded young, kind of high pitched, childlike, and it sounded like I was listening to it through a watery filter.
He said, “I was born here- you sound like you have an accent-”
I knew he was waiting for a reply, I told him, “Yes, I was born in the U.S.A. and moved here several years ago.” And I went on to tell him that he shouldn’t stay in this world, if he was stuck he could go to the light.
I told him what the most reliable source on ghostly phenomena that I know told me, I died in a car crash in 1934 and ‘haunted’ Chicago for four years, but I made it and if he tried, he could travel back in time and check that out and see what happened. If I’m back here, he could safely go to the ‘other side’ and come back, I think- pretty much any time he wanted to.
I felt like he was pretty happy about that. And while I was writing this here, I felt like he was reading ‘over my shoulder’ and approved, and was happy that I was telling his story.
Cathi has done more research on geneology stuff than I have, and she knew how to follow the family name of people who lived in this house before we did.
She thinks that two owners ago the guy who lived here was pre-deceased by a son. When I told her about the dream/contact with the young male person she wondered if that was him.
If it was, I hope he is not stuck here, trapped either by fear or some sort of dogma or lack of understanding, or a belief that that’s what happen when people die, you stay here-
I felt pretty darned good after that, like the angelic help I was trying to call on in the background while I was talking to the young person came through, helped the boy and came back to tell me he’d moved on, might be back again, but is not stuck here. Somebody communicated with positive emotion.
That was the best I felt in a couple days.
—Hope I’m not coming down with anything—