THAT OLD ROOM

It’s a long story as they say, so I shall try to keep it as short as possible. Out of a sort of coincidence, I had reason to be standing in the room where I first saw a spirit. Where I last saw a spirit with plain and open eyes.  The room is still there, and not only that, - it is the same in almost all ways. A cork-board is on the wall. On it is a project on the Toronto Maple Leafs, and also a personally signed picture of Borje Salming. The other things on the cork board are two school age pictures of myself, - and a GI Joe American Hero poster. If I remember right there was Scarlett, Grunt, Snake Eyes, - and though I can picture the other originals, I can’t remember them. The drapes are 1970’s ish- maybe early to middle 80’s at the most. There are board games in the closet, and there is soft yellow lighting. A large trophy case is there with hockey trophies, pucks, pictures of teams I played on, along with tickets, pins, and other mementos and artifacts that relate to the game. Its on the third story, and behind is a ravine. If you think about it,- though its all completely, utterly real,- it is also like something from a storybook. The room on the end,- the view of the ravine, quite mysterious, full of trees, hills, shade, corners, nooks, crannies, so on. 

 

Anyways,- here goes. I was explaining it to the person that was with me. I was met with that tolerant, friendly look, that betrays this thought: I am listening, and believe that you believe you saw what you say, and its kind of interesting, but I doubt it is as you say, and if it appeared like that,- it probably wasn’t what you thought,- but go on, I am not actually going to say anything one way or the other…

Well, I was awakened in the middle of the night, which was unusual. I was not prone to wake up in the middle of the night. I looked ahead at the foot of the bed and there was something there. I stared for quite a while at the figure, see-through, of a boy about my own age. He had a body, and arms and a head, and was speaking though I could not hear what he was saying. He was floating back and forth somewhat, moving, though staying in the same general spot also. Think of treading water,- it is like that,- you have to move to stay in the same spot. It was something like that. I watched. I could not understand what he was saying, and I did not recognize him. 

After some time, a few minutes, I just totally freaked out for the gravity (and lackthereof,

lol)- of the situation. I just lost it, but silently at first. I began to get up, and then he freaked out also. He started to motion with his hands, as if to say, No, please don’t be upset, don’t leave, no no no no no…And then I ran across the hallway to my parents door, on which I banged like crazy. When my mother came out,- I said that there was a ghost in my room, and I pointed, and I told her for some reason to go and get it. Consoling me, she said it was a nightmare, but I said no, that it was no nightmare, and that it was still there,- and I pointed there. At that moment when I looked back the phantom boy flew, just like a ghost in stories or books or such would, only a bit faster- right out of the room, along the contour or shape of the large L-shaped hallway,- and then through the front door.

As I told the story to the listener, I walked through the exact steps where I had stood. I could only see the bottom foot or so of the large front door from where I originally saw the ghost go through the door, and for a second I wondered and fretted thinking to myself, This does not make sense,- I know I saw it not only go down the stairs, but through the door!- but how could I if I can’t see the door properly from this vantage point? Then I realized what to another might have been obvious. I am now six foot and two inches tall. At the time, I was about a ten year old boy myself,- defiantly shorter. So,- I crouched down a few feet,- and voila!- I could see the from the vantage point that I remembered, and I could see almost the whole door save for perhaps a bit of the very top of the door. 

And that is it. 

The interpretations can go on forever. Those are the events as I remember them. I note it here because of the theme of the blog,- Spirit Rescue. That I feel was a spirit rescue gone wrong in that the boy wanted help that I was unable to provide at that time because of fear.

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