Annie started a meme of living with ghosts, and so I’ll tell some ghost stories that happened to me. I’ve never lived in a house with a lot of ghosts, but the apartment I am in now has a ghost cat. I can feel it jump up on the bed sometimes right before I go to sleep. I know there was a cat in the apartment before I moved in because it used the corner of the bathroom cabinet as a scratching post.
One year I lived in an adult family home with six developmentally disabled adults. I lived upstairs, and they lived downstairs. Only one of them was even remotely possibly able to climb the stairs to be able to get into my apartment. Either she, or a playful ghost tormented me the whole time I was there. I think it more likely that it was a ghost, because I started locking the door at the top of the stairs after she scared the poop out of me in bed one morning. That would mean she would have to go out around the back of the house and up the deck stairs to get in. That would have been a really long trek in her condition, and she could barely climb the stairs.
At any rate, things kept going missing. I am one of those people who could put something in a pile of clutter, and pull it out three years later. But things didn’t seem to be where I left them. Even after I cleaned the clutter and put everything away. Papers would go missing, staplers would go missing, projects would go missing. And then, several weeks later, the things would magically reappear, just where I knew I had left them. This went on the whole time I live in that house.
Another ghost story I have is about when my grandfather died. In the last year of his life, he moved in with my aunt and her family 2000 miles away, so my aunt could take care of him. One night I was up sewing about 4AM, when I felt him come into the room and just stand there. I knew then that he was dead. My mother called me later in the day to tell me he had died. I told her I knew as he had come by to tell me.
I was considerably younger when Uncle Charlie died. I don’t remember much about his death, other than my mother inherited most of his estate. One night I dreamed of Uncle Charlie. In the morning, I told my Dad I had dreamed of him, and he had talked to me. My Dad asked what he said. I told him Uncle Charlie had told me he was murdered. It was only then that my dad told me that there were suspicious circumstances around Uncle Charlie’s death.
Oh, and I knew my mother would die the night before she did. The I Ching told me. I guess more spooky things have happened to me than I thought.
Strangely, I just finished reading a book called “I’m Looking Through You, On Growing Up Haunted” by Jennifer Boylan.