Monday, August 30, 2004
We are being visited.
At first yesterday when I finally figured out that what I had been experiencing for over a week was a visitor I thought I was the only one of us being visited. Tonight, though, my mother and I were visited together and noticed the event independent of one another.
I know, I know. Yes, this is going to be one of those posts that should be introduced with the theme from The Twilight Zone. For those of you who aren't interested, I am posting this first for two of my three sisters, both of whom drop by to read, and one of my nieces, although I'm not sure that she drops by to read. I don't think the third sister drops by here, she's busy up to her eyeballs and, anyway, doesn't enjoy reading of any kind. Even if she did come by, for reasons that make a lot of sense her spirituality is much too grounded, primarily based in social activism, to entertain the possibility of spiritual visitors. Secondly, I am posting this for my own reference.
As I was saying, it wasn't until yesterday that I realized that these events I've been experiencing at least once a day, sometimes more, for more than a week (I'm not sure if they started before my mother's arrival home from the facility or after) are visits. Previous to yesterday's first visit I experienced yesterday I hadn't taken much notice of the events. I'd be busy doing something, have the sense, then an out-of-the-corner-of-the-eye sight, of a presence, turn toward the stimuli and nothing would be there. Although not scary, the events are always startling as I expect to see my mother standing in the area toward which I am turning (she moves with the light-footed, silent slowness of the old) and, well, she isn't. At various times I've interpreted the events as having something in my eye, a burst of dust blown through a window, one of our cats dashing by just out of my line of vision, the reflection off airborne dust particles of one of our drapes flapping in the breeze. At one point I even considered that one of our cats may be practicing astral projection. Since the events have, up to tonight, happen when my mother is not near me it also occurred to me that she might be practicing astral projection, unbeknownst to herself.
Yesterday I realized, although I'm not sure how I realized this, that the event is a visitor making itself known. Even after realizing this between chores and paying intense attention to my mother I gave it little thought.
Tonight, though, while Mom was filing her nails, as I was arranging manicure utensils around her she and I were visited. There was a detectable "disturbance" between her rocking chair and the box upon which my computer sits. We both noticed it independently and followed what appeared to be its movement about 5 feet diagonally across the living room in the direction of the dinette, at which point the disturbance vanished.
"What was that?" my mother asked.
"Mom," I began, "I know what it was. I've been meaning to mention this to you but keep forgetting. We have a visitor." I got the shivers as I said this, not because the visits are in any way creepy or disruptive; only because I figured she probably wouldn't believe me, even though I was sure, since she'd noticed the event, that we do have a visitor.
Her interest was piqued. "Really. What kind of visitor?"
"I know this is going to sound weird, but I guess it's a spiritual visitor. That's the only way I can explain it." I Relate my experience of the visits in detail, including the length of time I've been experiencing them. "I thought I was the only one being visited but I guess we're both being visited." I told her that when I realized we were being visited I mentally ran through all the people I know who are dead and that I don't think it's any of them.
"Why does it have to be someone who's dead?"
"Good point. It could be the spirit of someone who's alive on earth now or a spirit that's never been, you know, solid, in this system. Did you get any sense of the visitor?"
"No," she said, "but I think you're right. We have a visitor."
"Just so you know, I'm sure the visitor and the visits are benign. I don't know if whether the purpose of the visits has anything to do with us. The visits could have to do directly with us, like a show of support or maybe we're being helped in some way. Then again, maybe we're just being visited out of curiosity. But I'm sure the visitor means us no harm. I am positive that, whatever the reason for the visits, the visitor is benign."
"Oh, yes. So am I."
After that, she and I continued with this evening's business.
Later I stepped out into our backyard, as is typical for me sometime during the evening, in order to soak up our magnificent view of the universe for a few minutes, refocus and shake my internal self out. I thought about our visitor. Our house is not haunted, thus the entity is not a resident. Or, I thought, perhaps it is a resident but for some reason finds it desirable and reasonable to make itself known to us for seconds here and there at this time, whereas, otherwise, us knowing of its presence isn't necessary. I made no attempt to "contact" it or feel it out for identity or intent. I did, however, thank it for visiting, as it seemed a neighborly gesture to acknowledge that Mom and I are now aware of it, aware that its visits are benign and acknowledge that it is welcome.
Although Mom didn't go to bed over-hydrated I noticed tonight that her feet were the tiniest bit swollen; so tiny no one but me would have noticed. I pointed it out to her, chalked it up to her day of rest and told her this was an indication that we shouldn't make days of rest a day-after-day habit again. Now that I'm thinking about it, it could, I suppose, be incipient anemia, although I doubt it. There could be any other number of reasons for it and I had the urge to run into her bedroom and quickly take her blood pressure right after she'd turned out her light. I resisted. If her blood pressure is up a bit it couldn't be very high. Then I noticed my feet feel a bit swollen tonight, too, which is very unusual. It could be all the sodium in the Cobb Salad. It could also be the last rush of heated weather we're experiencing before fall sets in. Today was unusually warm for this area and tomorrow promises to be hotter. Who knows. If she awakens tomorrow ruddy and grumbling good naturedly about having to rise so early and has, once again, soaked her sheets, I'll be happy.
We'll be leaving early tomorrow. I haven't decided whether to take the computer. I'm sure, since we'll be down in the Valley all day, that Mom will take a nap. I'm working on the hydration essay and again revising "Doctors and Patience" (I know, I know, I should just stop and publish it at some point and be done with it, but it continues to change with our experiences), so I may take it. I also need to fertilize the citrus trees and that may take all my personal time, depending on how long Mom decides to nap. I'll see how I feel about carting it with us in the morning.
Later, perhaps a day or so later.
I know, I know. Yes, this is going to be one of those posts that should be introduced with the theme from The Twilight Zone. For those of you who aren't interested, I am posting this first for two of my three sisters, both of whom drop by to read, and one of my nieces, although I'm not sure that she drops by to read. I don't think the third sister drops by here, she's busy up to her eyeballs and, anyway, doesn't enjoy reading of any kind. Even if she did come by, for reasons that make a lot of sense her spirituality is much too grounded, primarily based in social activism, to entertain the possibility of spiritual visitors. Secondly, I am posting this for my own reference.
As I was saying, it wasn't until yesterday that I realized that these events I've been experiencing at least once a day, sometimes more, for more than a week (I'm not sure if they started before my mother's arrival home from the facility or after) are visits. Previous to yesterday's first visit I experienced yesterday I hadn't taken much notice of the events. I'd be busy doing something, have the sense, then an out-of-the-corner-of-the-eye sight, of a presence, turn toward the stimuli and nothing would be there. Although not scary, the events are always startling as I expect to see my mother standing in the area toward which I am turning (she moves with the light-footed, silent slowness of the old) and, well, she isn't. At various times I've interpreted the events as having something in my eye, a burst of dust blown through a window, one of our cats dashing by just out of my line of vision, the reflection off airborne dust particles of one of our drapes flapping in the breeze. At one point I even considered that one of our cats may be practicing astral projection. Since the events have, up to tonight, happen when my mother is not near me it also occurred to me that she might be practicing astral projection, unbeknownst to herself.
Yesterday I realized, although I'm not sure how I realized this, that the event is a visitor making itself known. Even after realizing this between chores and paying intense attention to my mother I gave it little thought.
Tonight, though, while Mom was filing her nails, as I was arranging manicure utensils around her she and I were visited. There was a detectable "disturbance" between her rocking chair and the box upon which my computer sits. We both noticed it independently and followed what appeared to be its movement about 5 feet diagonally across the living room in the direction of the dinette, at which point the disturbance vanished.
"What was that?" my mother asked.
"Mom," I began, "I know what it was. I've been meaning to mention this to you but keep forgetting. We have a visitor." I got the shivers as I said this, not because the visits are in any way creepy or disruptive; only because I figured she probably wouldn't believe me, even though I was sure, since she'd noticed the event, that we do have a visitor.
Her interest was piqued. "Really. What kind of visitor?"
"I know this is going to sound weird, but I guess it's a spiritual visitor. That's the only way I can explain it." I Relate my experience of the visits in detail, including the length of time I've been experiencing them. "I thought I was the only one being visited but I guess we're both being visited." I told her that when I realized we were being visited I mentally ran through all the people I know who are dead and that I don't think it's any of them.
"Why does it have to be someone who's dead?"
"Good point. It could be the spirit of someone who's alive on earth now or a spirit that's never been, you know, solid, in this system. Did you get any sense of the visitor?"
"No," she said, "but I think you're right. We have a visitor."
"Just so you know, I'm sure the visitor and the visits are benign. I don't know if whether the purpose of the visits has anything to do with us. The visits could have to do directly with us, like a show of support or maybe we're being helped in some way. Then again, maybe we're just being visited out of curiosity. But I'm sure the visitor means us no harm. I am positive that, whatever the reason for the visits, the visitor is benign."
"Oh, yes. So am I."
After that, she and I continued with this evening's business.
Later I stepped out into our backyard, as is typical for me sometime during the evening, in order to soak up our magnificent view of the universe for a few minutes, refocus and shake my internal self out. I thought about our visitor. Our house is not haunted, thus the entity is not a resident. Or, I thought, perhaps it is a resident but for some reason finds it desirable and reasonable to make itself known to us for seconds here and there at this time, whereas, otherwise, us knowing of its presence isn't necessary. I made no attempt to "contact" it or feel it out for identity or intent. I did, however, thank it for visiting, as it seemed a neighborly gesture to acknowledge that Mom and I are now aware of it, aware that its visits are benign and acknowledge that it is welcome.
Although Mom didn't go to bed over-hydrated I noticed tonight that her feet were the tiniest bit swollen; so tiny no one but me would have noticed. I pointed it out to her, chalked it up to her day of rest and told her this was an indication that we shouldn't make days of rest a day-after-day habit again. Now that I'm thinking about it, it could, I suppose, be incipient anemia, although I doubt it. There could be any other number of reasons for it and I had the urge to run into her bedroom and quickly take her blood pressure right after she'd turned out her light. I resisted. If her blood pressure is up a bit it couldn't be very high. Then I noticed my feet feel a bit swollen tonight, too, which is very unusual. It could be all the sodium in the Cobb Salad. It could also be the last rush of heated weather we're experiencing before fall sets in. Today was unusually warm for this area and tomorrow promises to be hotter. Who knows. If she awakens tomorrow ruddy and grumbling good naturedly about having to rise so early and has, once again, soaked her sheets, I'll be happy.
We'll be leaving early tomorrow. I haven't decided whether to take the computer. I'm sure, since we'll be down in the Valley all day, that Mom will take a nap. I'm working on the hydration essay and again revising "Doctors and Patience" (I know, I know, I should just stop and publish it at some point and be done with it, but it continues to change with our experiences), so I may take it. I also need to fertilize the citrus trees and that may take all my personal time, depending on how long Mom decides to nap. I'll see how I feel about carting it with us in the morning.
Later, perhaps a day or so later.
