Topic: Your Supernatural Experiences

[Treading Water]

More, Ana, more please. 

I second that emotion.     

[b_dubb]

I second that emotion.     

me three.  please Ana?

b

[anagrammy]

OK, here goes:

In 1990 my schizophrenic son was released to my care from Dammasch State Hospital in Oregon.  He was a college student and had a psychotic break after being dropped off at a mall dumpster by his father, The Scum of The Earth (a whole other story on Scum will be in my autobiography).  It was winter and he wandered around in Portland until he happened into a construction site where he found an exacto knife and made a big hole in his arm on the inside of the elbow.  A policeman found him just watching the puddle of blood and talking to himself.  Flash forward to 1992.  He has tried to commit suicide maybe five more times by them in various creative ways and is living with me.  His older brother Greg is also living with me, kicking heroin and replacing it with alcohol.  He is keeping an eye on Brian--we are trying to keep him alive long enough for them to find the right drug cocktail to allow him to have some peace from the voices.  My life is, well, tough, because I am also raising four girls who are middle school and teenage. 

SOOOO, one night I am having a perfectly normal black and white dream when suddenly a big V-shape of color interrupts my dream with a completely different scenario.  I am walking between two sets of cushioned folding chairs, like a church aisle, only it isn't a church.  There is an open coffin ahead, banked with orange and red flowers, and I am holding the arm of a young man who is wearing a suit.  I recognize a mortuary viewing when I see one.  I look at my son, fully expecting it to be Greg, who has been my support during this last year while Brian has tried to stab himself in the chest, jump out of the car, overdose on meds, etc.  It is not Greg, it is Brian who is holding my arm!  I AM SHOCKED!  WHO IS IN THE COFFIN? 

I am in complete dread as I walk slowly up.  My mother?  OMG--not one of the girls!!!  The casket is gun-metal gray with white satin lining.  I look inside and it is GREG who is dead!  He is clean-shaven, wearing a navy blue suit with a navy and red speckled tie.  My gut wrenches and the V-shaped wedge of a dream disappeared upward and my black-and-white dream returned to the screen.

The next day I told everyone I knew what I had seen.  I had great fights with Greg over rehab, one even taking place in the middle of the street over the top of my car.  "Get back in the car or you know what will happen!" I screamed as surrounding motorists screamed back "Do what she says, MF!"

Eighteen months later I got the call from a detective that Greg was dead.  My other three sons flew out to Utah to get the body.  They purchased the casket, they bought his clothes, they had a viewing there for his friends and came back. I was unable to help being crushed by grief. We had a viewing at Lima Mortuary in Santa Clara, California.  My son Brian held my arm and walked me into the room.  We walked between two groups of cushioned folding chairs and there was the gray casket and the red and orange flowers, the white lining.  There was Greg wearing the same navy suit and tie I saw in my dream.  I had told no one about the details of casket, clothes, none of it.  He was even clean-shaven (like I preferred) even though he had a Fu Manchu beard when his friends let him die rather than call 911 and have their paraphernalia seen by cops.

The dream helped me prepare psychologically because when that moment arrived in real life, the moment I would see his handsome lifeless body (the first one I had ever seen), I was resigned.

Anagrammy

[BobGrau]

wow. thank you for sharing that, anagrammy.

I'll keep this short because I've never been much good at describing this, but here goes -

I once woke up from an extremely disturbing dream, the details aren't important but I felt such an unusual level of fear that I sat for a while thinking about it after I woke up. Some months later I had the  same experience that I'd already been through in the dream - again, the details were fairly mundane, but I got an overwhelming sense of deja vu (which had also been present in the dream), remembered the dream, and felt the same fear, or rather a sense of the universe suddenly being a much more complicated place than I'd previously imagined.

The point is that I didn't just think 'hmm I feel like this has happened before', I remember waking up and going over the dream in my mind. So either I'm prone to delusions and creating false memorys (don't think so, but it has to be acknowledged) or the universe is indeed a funny place.

That's why I 'want to believe'.

[b_dubb]

OK, here goes:

once again you've blown my mind.  thank you for sharing

have you (Ana) ever given any thought to screenwriting? just curious

[Scully]

The dream helped me prepare psychologically because when that moment arrived in real life, the moment I would see his handsome lifeless body (the first one I had ever seen), I was resigned.

Anagrammy

Thanks for sharing that, Ana, and my sincere condolences on the loss of your son.
 
I would love to know what force, if any, decides to whom and when such precognitive dreams will come. It seems to me to be completely random.

[anagrammy]

once again you've blown my mind.  thank you for sharing

have you (Ana) ever given any thought to screenwriting? just curious

Now that I am retired I am thinking about several writing projects.  I've had quite a life so an autobiography will certainly be one of them.  I've always wondered why people write novels, for example, which are so hard to publish and then hope they'll be picked up by Hollywood.  Then Hollywood hires a screenwriter and the author ends up pissed.  I could certainly write my life story in a screenplay.  I would call it "Life on a Perforated Roll."

But first I promised my children I would not go to the Great Beyond before writing down my unusual and highly effective way of teaching preschoolers to read. 

Thanks for your interest--I'm thinking I might do the life story in a blog form.  Does anybody do that?

Anagrammy

[onan]

I am not much of a believer in the ghostly arts, but I do have one story.


When I was much younger, late teens, I started having a recurring dream. To this day it gives me pause. For several years I would have the same dream not every night but certainly more than three times a month. It is difficult to put it all together because it has been many years since I dreamed it.


I wouid find myself standing in front of a crowd. I never saw the crowd but I was certain there were hundreds of people behind me. In front of me was a barren volcanic landscape no trees or buildings to block the horizon. The sky was a dark bluish purple with misty clouds. Halfway up in the sky, in the distance was a doorway. It appeared to be very small because of the distance to it.


People were walking out of this doorway single file in a very long "S" shaped procession. There was no starway. They seemed to be walking on some transparent firmament. They continued down to what I thought was the crowd behind me.


Directly in front of me were 4 people standing at the corners of some sort of stone altar (yeah it is weird--dream). On the altar was a woman dressed in some flowing light textured cloth. Her Arms were raised fully extended with her palms touching. Her palms were holding some sort of blade which was pointing towards her chest. I stood there transfixed. Then the woman looked at me. And I always awakened at that very spot.


The dream stayed with me for more than 5 years. Until one day I was flying to Los Angeles for some seminar. I had been luckily upgraded to first class. Even more lucky, there were no other passengers on my side of the aisle. I was going over some information and I looked across the aisle and there were 3 men in suits and one woman in a white summer dress. They seemed to be very protective of her. Then I noticed that she looked exactly like the woman in my dream.


Well how do you introduce yourself to someone with a story like that? Plus the three other guys. So I sat there quietly with the least amount of confidence I have ever had. I wanted to say something but I didn't. When we landed I tried to muster enough courage to approach her. Somehow she and her entourage got very far ahead of me and I was going to give up. I decided to continue to approach when I noticed the four of them opened and entered a door. Before the door closed she looked directly at me and  smiled in a way I will never forget.


I have often made the connection with the walkway in the sky to the airport and the doorway to the one in the sky. Probably just an overactive imagination... but there it is.

[EvB]

I have often made the connection with the walkway in the sky to the airport and the doorway to the one in the sky. Probably just an overactive imagination... but there it is.

it's a great story!  And, if something like that does not excite the imagination, you're brain dead.

[anagrammy]

I am not much of a believer in the ghostly arts, but I do have one story.


When I was much younger, late teens, I started having a recurring dream. To this day it gives me pause. For several years I would have the same dream not every night but certainly more than three times a month. It is difficult to put it all together because it has been many years since I dreamed it.


I wouid find myself standing in front of a crowd. I never saw the crowd but I was certain there were hundreds of people behind me. In front of me was a barren volcanic landscape no trees or buildings to block the horizon. The sky was a dark bluish purple with misty clouds. Halfway up in the sky, in the distance was a doorway. It appeared to be very small because of the distance to it.


People were walking out of this doorway single file in a very long "S" shaped procession. There was no starway. They seemed to be walking on some transparent firmament. They continued down to what I thought was the crowd behind me.


Directly in front of me were 4 people standing at the corners of some sort of stone altar (yeah it is weird--dream). On the altar was a woman dressed in some flowing light textured cloth. Her Arms were raised fully extended with her palms touching. Her palms were holding some sort of blade which was pointing towards her chest. I stood there transfixed. Then the woman looked at me. And I always awakened at that very spot.


The dream stayed with me for more than 5 years. Until one day I was flying to Los Angeles for some seminar. I had been luckily upgraded to first class. Even more lucky, there were no other passengers on my side of the aisle. I was going over some information and I looked across the aisle and there were 3 men in suits and one woman in a white summer dress. They seemed to be very protective of her. Then I noticed that she looked exactly like the woman in my dream.


Well how do you introduce yourself to someone with a story like that? Plus the three other guys. So I sat there quietly with the least amount of confidence I have ever had. I wanted to say something but I didn't. When we landed I tried to muster enough courage to approach her. Somehow she and her entourage got very far ahead of me and I was going to give up. I decided to continue to approach when I noticed the four of them opened and entered a door. Before the door closed she looked directly at me and  smiled in a way I will never forget.


I have often made the connection with the walkway in the sky to the airport and the doorway to the one in the sky. Probably just an overactive imagination... but there it is.

Wow.  Thanks for sharing.  Haven't you continue to  wonder who she was and looked on the internet?

Ana

[EvB]

Thanks for your interest--I'm thinking I might do the life story in a blog form.  Does anybody do that?

Anagrammy

Sure they do.  the trick with blogs is to keep the posts short and "regular" (at least three times a week for good traffic) it sounds to me like you have good material for "cliffhanger" moments - emotionally wrenching as they may be.  I'd go for it!

[anagrammy]

Sure they do.  the trick with blogs is to keep the posts short and "regular" (at least three times a week for good traffic) it sounds to me like you have good material for "cliffhanger" moments - emotionally wrenching as they may be.  I'd go for it!

Thanks for the encouragement, Ev, do you have a suggestion as to where?  As in, which bloghost?

Ana

[Centurion40]

Background:
My dad died after a short battle with lung cancer, leaving this earth on Dec. 21, 2006.  When he went into the hospital the doctors said that he likely had 3 weeks to live.  He died 3 weeks- to the day.  My mom got sick with the norovirus after my dad was in the hospital for 2 days and I ended-up having to stay with her.  At the time, I was hopeful that the docs were wrong, and that he'd beat whatever it was (they didn't diagnose lung cancer until the day before he died... it was biopsy procedure that actually killed him, which was actually merciful- as he didn't have to suffer a prolonged, wasting death from the cancer).

The (possibly) Supernatural:

Episode #1: While I was caring for my mom, a family portrait (me, mom & dad) fell off the wall in the den.  My mom went hysterical, saying that this was a "forerunner" sign that my dad was going to die.  My mom had encountered a "forerunner" before, heralding her own mom's death with 3 loud knocks on the headboard of her bed the night her mom died.

[Centurion40]

Episode #2: After the funeral, my wife, step-daughter and mom gathered for supper at a high-end steakhouse on New Year's Eve.  We were all sad and sullen. Now I have to tell you all that, whenever my dad would dine out and a waiter/tress would stop and ask "How is your meal?", my dad would always (with a glint in his eye) rely "Terrible!".  He did to carry on with the wait staff.  He thought that it was really funny.  Usually, he was the only one to find it funny.

So we're eating our steaks and salads and the waiter (who we've never seen before, in fact I've only ever eaten there once before with my mom and dad and it would have been a good 2-3 years earlier... this waiter did not know us, there is NO WAY that he could have known my dad's hijinx) comes over and asks "And how is everything?  Terrible, right?"  I must repeat, this is one of the 2 most expensive steakhouses in the city.  Never, ever would any staff suggest that the food is anything other than excellent.  We were all stunned.  In talking about it later, we all agreed that we were simultaneously struck that my dad was giving us a wink from beyond the grave.  Maybe it was pure coincidence, but it gave us all a sense of comfort.

[Centurion40]

Episode #3.

Ever since the movie City Slickers, my mom has taken to calling me, on the morning of my birthday (in November) just before dawn (even though I was born in the late afternoon) to wish me a happy birthday.  After my dad died, my mom was calling all the time (I'm an only child).  It was so bad that I would literally jump everytime that the phone rang.  I begged her not to call me on my birthday... not to wake me and my family up.  She promised that she would not.  But sure enough, at about 5:45 am the morning of my birthday, the phone rings, jolting us away.  My wife hands me the phone and I look at the call display expecting to see my mom's name and number.  But it's a long distance call from a number I don't recognize.  I answer that call.... nothing, just a hollow long-distance "empty" sound.  I say "hello" again.  Still nothing, I freak out and hang up.  I honestly felt like it was somehow my dad.  I tried to find the area code, but it didn't seem to exist.  I checked the # on the internet... nothing.  I checked area code numbering on Wikipedia (yeah, I know...) and apparently the number had never been assigned.

So far, only 3 incidents/episodes to talk about.

[EvB]

Thanks for the encouragement, Ev, do you have a suggestion as to where?  As in, which bloghost?

Ana

the very best thing is to have your own URL -there is some deal where wordpress will host with your URL without hosting fees - but i don't know the details. the URL itself would only be around $10 per year.

I think wordpress is the most reliable, and customizable, blog format out there. 

[b_dubb]

at GoDaddy ... domain is $10/year.  hosting is $4/month or $9/month

[anagrammy]

THanks for the info, all.  Carry on...

Ana

[Agent : Orange]

During my undergraduate years, my Mother was diagnosed with liver cancer. It was a long and brutal battle, and she held on for about three years. She passed away around exam time in my third year. It was obviously an incredibly difficult period for me. She passed in the spring, and that year my Father and I went through some old photos for the obituary and memorial. We spread them out on the kitchen table and picked what we thought best represented her. It was about this time we realized our annual taxes were due, so we did them quickly and as best we could under the circumstances and sent them off. Filling out tax forms on the kitchen table, with old pictures of Mom lying around was a surreal reminder that the daily grind goes on even in the fallout of personal catastrophe.

When our tax receipts were returned to us a few months later we emptied out the envelopes on the kitchen table, and a small negative fluttered out from one of them. Neither my Father nor I could believe it. We had the negative developed and it was a photo of my Mom, sitting on a bench in Hawaii during my parents honeymoon. She had a happy look on her face and a Hibiscus blossom in her hair. We made several copies of the photo, and have them in a number of places that were meaningful to my Mom. This picture has provided me with quite a bit of inspiration and now in graduate school, one of those copies hangs on my office wall to this day.

It was one of the most bittersweet experiences of my life.

If I was predisposed it would have been easy to believe that it was a "message" or a "sign" that my Mother was happy and still out there somewhere. It's obvious what happened, of course, that one of the negatives that we had scattered about on that kitchen table accidentally got into our tax packages in the whirlwind of activity at that horrible time. It's pure coincidence, though admittedly strange (as most coincidences are) that this little bit of film managed to find its way back to us. This chain of random events showed me that true beauty really can be found in the minutiae. Though the mechanisms of our day to day lives may be based on inherent randomness even in the face of this apparent impersonality the details can be meaningful to someone in the middle of it all.

[Frys Girl]

During my undergraduate years, my Mother was diagnosed with liver cancer. It was a long and brutal battle, and she held on for about three years. She passed away around exam time in my third year. It was obviously an incredibly difficult period for me. She passed in the spring, and that year my Father and I went through some old photos for the obituary and memorial. We spread them out on the kitchen table and picked what we thought best represented her. It was about this time we realized our annual taxes were due, so we did them quickly and as best we could under the circumstances and sent them off. Filling out tax forms on the kitchen table, with old pictures of Mom lying around was a surreal reminder that the daily grind goes on even in the fallout of personal catastrophe.

When our tax receipts were returned to us a few months later we emptied out the envelopes on the kitchen table, and a small negative fluttered out from one of them. Neither my Father nor I could believe it. We had the negative developed and it was a photo of my Mom, sitting on a bench in Hawaii during my parents honeymoon. She had a happy look on her face and a Hibiscus blossom in her hair. We made several copies of the photo, and have them in a number of places that were meaningful to my Mom. This picture has provided me with quite a bit of inspiration and now in graduate school, one of those copies hangs on my office wall to this day.

It was one of the most bittersweet experiences of my life.

If I was predisposed it would have been easy to believe that it was a "message" or a "sign" that my Mother was happy and still out there somewhere. It's obvious what happened, of course, that one of the negatives that we had scattered about on that kitchen table accidentally got into our tax packages in the whirlwind of activity at that horrible time. It's pure coincidence, though admittedly strange (as most coincidences are) that this little bit of film managed to find its way back to us. This chain of random events showed me that true beauty really can be found in the minutiae. Though the mechanisms of our day to day lives may be based on inherent randomness even in the face of this apparent impersonality the details can be meaningful to someone in the middle of it all.

What an amazing story. Thanks for sharing. I'm sorry that your mom passed away. Good luck with grad school!

[Silent]

During my undergraduate years, my Mother was diagnosed with liver cancer.......

Better than any ghost story I've heard.  Thanks for sharing, and no offense to ghost story tellers. 

[Frys Girl]

I did not experience this, but this poor animal is being called Chupacabra because of its disease. If we did that to a person, it would be cruel. Look at these idiot hospital personnel carrying on like Coast to Coast AM callers:
http://www.nbcwashington.com/news/local/Mysterious_Animal_Case_Solved__Washington_DC-127904783.html

[Agent : Orange]

The only other experience I've had which comes close to being considered "paranormal" is a stay out East I had once.

I was attending a conference in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada and wanted to book the cheapest room I could find near the University. These were the only constraints I was at all interested in. So my wife hit the internet for me, found a place and kindly made reservations at the Waverley Inn.

When the cab pulled up I was a bit surprised at what the place actually looked like. It was built essentially as a large four story row house with a very dated looking exterior. My first thought was that it had a vintage of funeral parlor mixed with old library. As I walked up the stairs to get to my room, I noticed a bunch of paintings on the wall - all very old, portraits of individual men and women holding babies staring expressionlessly out from the frames.

The top floor room I got was interesting. A marble writing desk with a narrow window above overlooked the street, skylight above the bed equipped with giant elaborately carved bedposts, and ancient hand embroidered wallpaper. The more I thought about the place the more strange it seemed. I complained that my hotel was "a bit weird" to a friend and we made arrangements to meet for dinner that night. Before I went out, I checked the place out on google. Turns out that the hotel is one of the "most haunted spots of Halifax" and that ghost tours that go through the city often stop there. It was apparently a favorite spot of Oscar Wilde, and his ghost is said to haunt the place.
http://www.budgettravel.com/feature/spirited-nova-scotia,3913/

I immediately called my wife, "THANKS FOR PUTTING ME UP IN A HAUNTED HOUSE!!", and it's been a running joke between us ever since that I'll handle booking accommodations for any trips we take now. The conference itself went off without a hitch and was actually quite profitable for me. I never saw any ghosts while I was staying there or experienced anything out of the ordinary. I showed off the suite to a number of people while I was in town and it became a neat conversation starter at the conference. I did pull off a bitch move when I left though.

After a shower on the last day I wrote on the humid bathroom mirror with my finger, "HELP ME I AM IN HELL", so the next time some asshole has a shower in that suite he will get a better story out of the place than I did.

[onan]

on the last day I wrote on the humid bathroom mirror with my finger, "HELP ME I AM IN HELL",

You evil bastard

[Agent : Orange]

You evil bastard

I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I didn't go for it.

[Treading Water]

 I wrote on the humid bathroom mirror with my finger, "HELP ME I AM IN HELL", so the next time some asshole has a shower in that suite he will get a better story out of the place than I did.

Well, crap.  That ruins MY story.  

[MV]

agent orange... that was a nice story about your mom's picture.  my grandmother died on June 27, and we were unusually close my whole life.  it was the first time i'd lost anyone close to me.  i guess the point is it's made me feel like i need to be closer to my mom and appreciate the time i have with her.  i think too many people fail to appreciate their loved ones while they're alive, so i don't want to make that mistake.  i hope you have lots of great memories with your mom.


oh, and one more thing:  for years, my grandmother and i had an agreement that when she died, she'd try to contact me from the other side.  i've received nothing.  for whatever reason, i'd expected otherwise.

[Agent : Orange]

Well, crap.  That ruins MY story.  

haha
Well done

[Agent : Orange]

agent orange... that was a nice story about your mom's picture.  my grandmother died on June 27, and we were unusually close my whole life.  it was the first time i'd lost anyone close to me.  i guess the point is it's made me feel like i need to be closer to my mom and appreciate the time i have with her. 

Sorry to hear about your Grandmother.

I know the feeling about spending time with people. I sometimes look at the people in my life and think about endings. It really is something that I found I needed to take one day at a time, which can still be a struggle. Especially around certain times of the year. I lost my Mom in 2003, and I'm dreading to think what my 2013 is going to be like. Very hard to believe it's been that long.

i think too many people fail to appreciate their loved ones while they're alive

You said a mouthful there.

oh, and one more thing:  for years, my grandmother and i had an agreement that when she died, she'd try to contact me from the other side.  i've received nothing.  for whatever reason, i'd expected otherwise.

"There are times silence has the loudest voice."
-Leroy Brownlow

[Centurion40]

The only other experience I've had which comes close to being considered "paranormal" is a stay out East I had once.

I was attending a conference in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada and wanted to book the cheapest room I could find near the University. These were the only constraints I was at all interested in. So my wife hit the internet for me, found a place and kindly made reservations at the Waverley Inn.

When the cab pulled up I was a bit surprised at what the place actually looked like. It was built essentially as a large four story row house with a very dated looking exterior. My first thought was that it had a vintage of funeral parlor mixed with old library. As I walked up the stairs to get to my room, I noticed a bunch of paintings on the wall - all very old, portraits of individual men and women holding babies staring expressionlessly out from the frames.

The top floor room I got was interesting. A marble writing desk with a narrow window above overlooked the street, skylight above the bed equipped with giant elaborately carved bedposts, and ancient hand embroidered wallpaper. The more I thought about the place the more strange it seemed. I complained that my hotel was "a bit weird" to a friend and we made arrangements to meet for dinner that night. Before I went out, I checked the place out on google. Turns out that the hotel is one of the "most haunted spots of Halifax" and that ghost tours that go through the city often stop there. It was apparently a favorite spot of Oscar Wilde, and his ghost is said to haunt the place.
http://www.budgettravel.com/feature/spirited-nova-scotia,3913/

I immediately called my wife, "THANKS FOR PUTTING ME UP IN A HAUNTED HOUSE!!", and it's been a running joke between us ever since that I'll handle booking accommodations for any trips we take now. The conference itself went off without a hitch and was actually quite profitable for me. I never saw any ghosts while I was staying there or experienced anything out of the ordinary. I showed off the suite to a number of people while I was in town and it became a neat conversation starter at the conference. I did pull off a bitch move when I left though.

After a shower on the last day I wrote on the humid bathroom mirror with my finger, "HELP ME I AM IN HELL", so the next time some asshole has a shower in that suite he will get a better story out of the place than I did.

Wow.  And here I live in Halifax and never knew that about the Waverley Inn.