Thursday, September 18, 2008
Pondering the Paranormal
Crystal Jigsaw asks this in her blog (Ernest please note I finally figured out linking!!! This makes me very very happy!):
In light of the novel I am currently writing, what are your thoughts on the paranormal? Does it scare you, fascinate you, fill you with dread, enlighten you? Does it make you ask if there really is more to this life, or does it simply make you shake your head in disbelief? It would be interesting to me, to know your opinions. Many thanks, CJ xx
I started replying in her comments box and realised what I was trying to write was waaay to long so a post on it instead.
The paranormal. Are you a believer?
I have never really had a proper experience of this. I sometimes feel eeeee something prickly on the back of my neck, on my shoulder, I’m sure we all have, but I’ve never seen/felt/smelt a ghost per se. I know lots of people who have though. My story is a dream. I have wonderful fantastic multi coloured happy dreams. I have had about 6 nightmares in my life (and they’ve all been about lions. Even though I’m not scared of lions in real life. If I were being really tweety bird maybe I’d say I was killed by one (or a tiger) in a former life. Scoff scoff, I hear you say)
So anyway back to my dream. A few years ago my best friend from childhood, Johnny, was killed by an elephant. 6 months later another friend, Q, died in a helicopter crash. I accompanied Q's body to the airport. It was all pretty gruesome and I was worried that I would have bad dreams that night. I pictured myself unable to sleep with flashes of images I’d seen that day flickering through my brain like a newsreel.
The dream I did have, though was very vivid and very very comforting. I was walking behind the kitchen, outside, and saw Q standing behind an invisible but very present line.
“Oh my God, Q, what are you doing here? How ARE you?” I asked
“Fine” he said “I am having SUCH fun here. Its amazing” He was animated and excited. Bubbling.
And we both squatted down, on each side of the invisible line, and from his fingers came these blue blue gorgeous flames. And he made a teeny tiny fire. He then grabbed one of the sticks from the fire and thrust it into my knee. And it was cool and soothing and peaceful. And he quickly made it all disappear as if he shouldn’t be showing me this. I asked him if he’d seen Johnny and he looked across his shoulder and suddenly I could see everything on the other side of the ‘line’. People standing around, some having a barbeque (?) just having a really good time. And then Q looked back at me and they were gone. He told me (without saying anything) that he’d just got there and had seen Johnny briefly who asked him to ask/tell me something about a motorbike (which makes no sense to me, then and now) and he is fine and very happy. There was more but that’s the essence of it.
And I woke up feeling like I’d been bathed in warm oil, from the inside out (it was a good thing!) I felt so at peace and fulfilled and unworried. They were okay. They were happy. Happier, in fact.
And I went back to sleep smiling.
And had exactly the same dream all over again.
(On a side note, just coz I loved this dream. Shortly after Johnny died I had wonderful dreams of whizzing through the traffic with him, a couple of metres off the ground, carefree and happy and unafraid. Through busses, dodging cars (even though they couldn’t hit us anyway). It was exhilarating. )
So. Whaddaya say? Just a dream? Vivid imagination? A chink in the layers that separate us?
Oh while we’re on this subject. My mother, a few years ago, had to have an operation and went under general anesthetic. There were rumours of dodgy imported half qualified Thai anesthetists working in Lusaka at the time and we knew two people who had woken up in the middle of an operation. (aaah, can you IMAGINE?). Anyway, so my mother goes under in the middle she wakes up. Although she hasn’t. She looks up and sees the operating light above her. And she starts to go towards it. It feels so good. So peaceful. Suddenly everything makes sense. I am done, I am happy, I am content, I am coming home. She sees people behind the light. All peering out at her, welcoming her in. But her father (who died a few years before) steps out and stops her. “No, go back. You are not yet finished. Go back”. When she wakes up the doctors are all acting very very strange. They will not allow visitors in to her (but they will to other people). The operation was on her urethra but her chest is really very sore. No-one will look at her. She is discharged and goes home. A few days later she asks her doctor friend about her sore chest and he says it sounds consistent with whatever they do to bring you back to life. He had all the terms of course. I do not. Near death? Or just the drugs?
Your thoughts please…