I’ve been thinking about that hand since I saw it.  The image isn’t quite as sharp but I don’t doubt that it was there.  However, I have been wondering if the hand was really reaching for the popcorn.

In steps the universe (or Dad). Valentine’s Day brought me a gift basket from my hubby. His friend is in the business. All he told her was that I don’t like raspberry and chocolate combinations. What did she put in my basket?? Four different flavored popcorn.

Today is exactly one month after my last post. This afternoon I was cleaning the house and what didnt I find? Under the table…On the floor way back in the corner. It was  a wire twist tie with the words “Popcornopolis.”

I know better than to believe in coincidences.  Apparently ghosts do eat popcorn. When the realization strikes me, my inner voice says “All you had to do was ask!”

I remember being in that mellow, hypnotic mood where I loose myself in the movie. Something tugged on the left edge of my peripheral vision.  I turned my head towards my husband when I spied a hand reaching towards his popcorn. It was a woman’s hand with long fingernails and withered skin knuckles. This was not the hand of the living.

 As soon as my eyes made contact with the hand, “Uh, oh…caught me!” echoed silently as the hand paused its reach and I continued to stare. All I could think was, “Whoa! Cool! Do ghosts eat popcorn?”  I took my time looking at the hand, fully aware that it would vanish the instant I looked away.

I looked down to see my husbands hands resting on his thighs. As expected, the withered hand was gone when I looked up.

Upon sharing my experience with one of my ghosty gal pals, she shared with me, “Oh, I never go to the movie theaters. There are too many ghosts that like to hang out in there.” I’ll have to ask at the next investigation  if she, too, wonders if ghosts eat popcorn.

I know what you are thinking…scatterbrain…bad housekeeper…chaos. Though that may all be true (or not!) I think I know what is going on. Why am I not surprised when I realize that there is one (or more)  spirit with a sense of humor living in my house! Not only living in my house, but possibly traveling with me.

A week or two ago I was at my best friend’s house. (That would be the friend that live’s in my ex-husband’s and my old house.) We had an incredible weekend together with mutual friends and her daughter’s friends. Sometimes it is difficult to leave and come home to laundry, dishes, and a list of things to do.

I had packed my stuff in preparation for the ride back home but was unable to leave because I couldn’t find my camera. Now anyone that knows me knows that my camera is a natural extension of myself and is always in my purse. I looked outside the house. I looked inside the house. I looked 20 feet down thinking it had fallen off the deck. No camera!

I couldn’t put leaving off any longer. Afterall, it was Mother’s Day and my daughter was waiting at home for me. I couldn’t believe I was doing it, but I got in my car and left…without my camera!

All the way home I was wondering how and where I lost my camera. Perhaps it was good to be without it as there were at least 50 photo opportunities on the way back to Sacramento. The wildflowers were out in all their glory. The California poppies, purplish blue lupen, bright yellow mustard flowers wereall  in full bloom. Yes, I decided, it was indeed a good thing I was sans camera.

Upon arriving home, I dumped out my overnight bag. No camera. I dumped out my purse. No camera. Oh, well. I knew that my friend and her daughter would do a thorough search of their house and it would turn up eventually. It did.

I have been on a low carb diet for some time now and often travel with my own food. Days after returning home, I opened a box of vanilla protein powder. The packets literally burst out of the box! Puzzled by the condition of the protein packets, I pulled them out of the box only to find my camera packed underneath.

I know I did not put my camera in that box. My friends did not put my camera in that box. So I have to wonder…who the hell put the camera in a place that a camera would never be? Was it my father? Was it my friend’s father? Was it my ex-mother-in-law? (She was there while I lived there over 30 years ago.)

Granted, things disappear around the house only to return to a spot I have already looked. I’m used to that. But now it is happening in other places, too. Oh, well. The bottom line is that I am back in possession of my camera. And I do not use the word ‘possession’ lightly!

I got a call in January from the American Paranormal Investigations (API) inviting me to a meeting for anyone interested in becoming members. Apparently there were many people in the room were psychic like. I could feel several people trying to read my energies. I grounded and protected myself before sitting down. Dave, the founder of the group, provided the history of the organization and activities. His wife and co-founder, Ann, spoke as well. Both were fun and informative. At one point, Dave looked at me and said, “You’re very strong.” Oh, if he only knew… 

The meeting concluded with a commitment to be included on a training investigation as long as nothing ‘negative’ was sensed by Ann (who is a ‘sensitive’ very good at reading people.) And so began my volunteering for API (which is a non-profit organization). The following weekend was our first investigation as trainees.

 When the duty roster arrived via email, I was shocked to see my name down as a sensitive. I was worried. I was stressed. I felt a tremendous pressure to do what I was sure I couldn’t do. I mean, yeah, I’m an empath. But to be psychic to the point of telling homeowners what is going on in their homes? No way!

The house was quite large, beautiful, and filled with Senior Investigators, debunkers, interviewers, photographers, and trainees. We were told to be conscious of and document any sounds, smells, etc. Just then the homeowner’s dog farted then wagged her tail. It was fetid and quite offensive…and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The spirits were conspiring with the animals that night.  We then broke into groups, some of us running outside for fresh air.

My trainer asked me why I chose the role as sensitive for the investigator. I told him I didn’t; I received the assignment from Dave. My trainer said that Dave and Ann must have felt very strongly about my abilities to give me this assignment. He was an incredible trainer as he swiftly calmed my stress and fears. “If you feel something physically, just say so out loud. If you feel strongly about an impression, speak out. If you don’t feel anything, that is perfectly acceptable. You’ll be fine.”

The sensitives (the trainer, a Senior Investigator wanting to try the sensitive role, and me) went through the house first. Assigned to us were the debunkers who wrote down what we said and tested the environment with K2 meters, thermometers, and digital voice recorders forEVP (Electronic Voice Phenomenenon-voices captured by digital recorders but not heard by investigators). We were also filmed.

Before entering the house we had spent time outside grounding, setting our intentions, and asking for protection. As we started our walkthrough, I took a relaxing breath, closed my eyes and held my hands out in front of me palms forward.  I could feel the energy in the room, how it moved, the density, and the presence of the many animals in the room. As I circled the room I suddenly heard a growl. I jumped out of my meditative state almost peeing my pants! I thought I had found a menacing spirit. Unknown to me, there was a dog in a kennel that I hadn’t seen. It took me a few minutes to gather my wits and scattered life force together and  open to the energy again.

It was amazing how different each room felt. The garage felt better than the front living room. I felt like we were being watched from the loft/office that looked down upon the family room. Like sands through the hourglass I perceived numerous details about the room and the energies within.

As I exited one room into a hallway I unconsciously began to rub the middle of my chest at my heart chakra. One of the debunkers asked if I was OK. “My heart…my heart feels like it is in distress though I know it’s not. And I feel like I can’t breathe even though I can.”

 In another room, I felt a protective presence. The lights of the K2 meter began to light up and blink on and off.  It was thrilling to see this. The trainer wanted to see if there was an entity using the K2 to communicate. “If that is you lighting up the K2 meter, please stop” he spoke aloud. All the lights on the meter went off.

During our break, I heard voices downstairs in a section of the house we hadn’t entered. I thought it was some of the other API members and followed the voices to interact with the people I’d not spent time with. No one was there. I asked Ann if she heard voices. “Yep. I think we should take advantage of this and do some EVP work.” The EVP session was the only time the lights were turned off. We were in the master bathroom and bedroom. I sat on the side of the jacuzzi tub. “If you are here please knock, touch someone, pull their hair” Ann asked.  I felt a lock of my hair being pulled up and dropped. I identified myself (for the recorder) and shared what I had felt. The video camera was recording, but I don’t know if it captured this sign of a presence. The EVP session continued until someone said something and we all started laughing…”This is Sally. I’m laughing.” A similar statement was made for several people as we had to identify ourselves to avoid being mistaken for disembodied voices.

After the sensitives’ walkthrough, the debunkers did their thing and rooms were photographed.  K2 meter and thermometer readings were documented. Then it was time for the reveal phase of the investigation. All investigatory activity was shared with those living in the house. I was a little worried about sharing what I had felt during the walkthrough. I certainly was NOT telling anyone I came close to soiling myself while standing near the dog kennel.

I think I got more out of this than anyone as the homeowner revealed to us that her best friend had died a few years before. He died the day prior to his scheduled heart and lung transplant! This not only explained the strange sensation in my heart chakra but affirmed my abilities as a sensitive.

Last weekend was another investigation and I went solo (sans trainer) as did another ‘newbie’ as the sensitives. We were not to talk to one another nor be in the same room together. I felt pressured but finally just let it all go and did the walkthrough ending in the family room. There I actually saw something that shocked me.

(For those of you who haven’t watched the movie “Ghostbusters,” this is a replica of their ghost trap. The homeowners obviously had a sense of humor.)

Note: The first photo is of my daughter during a vocal performance. The ghost was added through an ipod application.

Another Friday night, another night for partying with his friends. “No, you are not taking the Corvette. You’re going to be in an accident tonight.” He was furious that I had taken the keys and hidden them. He was forced to call his friend. “Looks like we’ll be going in your little truck tonight. The witch is back.”

It wasn’t easy knowing. The hours ticked slowly by. I kept walking to the windows and finally saw a police car pull up. A car door slammed and I saw him limping down the driveway. “Are you okay? What happened?” I met him at the door. “What do you think happened? You’re the witch. We got in a wreck.”

“Are you alright?” I asked again. “No, I don’t think so. I think I need to lay down.” He went into the bathroom and laid down on the floor. “Shall I call an ambulance?” “No! If I’m hurt, my friend will be charged with drunk driving.”

“If his face is red, raise his head. If his face is pale, raise his tail,” I recalled the directions for shock.  I sat at his head and saw that he was pale so I positioned his feet up on the side of the bathtub. He was unconscious from alcohol or accident, I wasn’t sure. I walked aimlessly around the kitchen wondering what to do. A hand softly stroke my cheek as a sob broke through my lips. Another hand cupped the other side of my face and I felt comforted.

Though I was alone in the kitchen, I knew his mother was there with me.  She had passed before we reconciled and got married. I knew that she loved me and was happy to have me in her former kitchen. I knew just what to do. I woke him up after two hours and took him to the emergency room where he was diagnosed as having a concussion and cracked vertebrae. 

He should have known that I wasn’t kidding when I said he would get in an accident that night. He should have known to stay home.

I felt like nobody really loved me. We had just moved to a new town and the neighbors were all boys. I was in the shy time of my life and blushed easily…don’t recall being able to talk to boys quite yet. Things were ugly between my parents, I miss my dad and the person my mom used to be before she had to worry constantly about a job and having her children ripped from her arms by a father and family matriarch.

I was wishing I was dead. The sky was cloudy as autumn absorbed the summer. I was sitting in the living room at a card table that I had adopted as my writing desk.  My diary entry was finished and I sat doodling on a pad of paper. Little stick figures being run over by a train. In the way that adolescents do, I gave into the fantasy. My family would be told of my death and my family would reunite in their common grief for me.  My death would be the catalyst of peace within the family as that is the purpose of the middle child…the peacemaker.

Each person in the family was living in their own little world, separate from one another. I was convinced that my little world was different from theirs because I knew things…things that were held in secrecy by adults…things children shouldn’t have to understand…things brought to me on the wings of thoughts and whispersed mystery.

My reality slammed into dimness as a dark cloud had passed in front of the sun. My mind knew that something significant had just occurred when my heart flipped over in my flatbreasted chest. I felt sudden guilt over my fantasy but I didn’t know why.

The phone rang and I talked to my friend, Lori for a few minutes. She was bored. I wished I could hang out with her. My mom’s boss and his wife knocked on the door and came in. As I left the room I heard my mother cry out “What do you mean Walter’s dead?” but my audio processor went haywired and that’s not what I heard in my brain.

Regardless, my mom’s boyfriend was dead. He died while fighting a fire. A bee stung him and his allergy kit was out of whatever medicine was used for serious allergic reactions. He had used the last shot on his dog that was bitten by a rattlesnake. Walter’s heart stopped.

The wife of mom’s boss insisted we kids go for a walk with her. She told us we had to be strong for our mother and do everything to help her. “Especially you,” she said, eyes in my direction. “Why me? I’m not the oldest,” I said quietly. “Because you’re the one that’s supposed to.”

That night I was asleep on the couch. Mom was in my bed and my grandparents had rushed to our house to be with Mom. They were asleep in her bed. I awoke to the sound of what can only be described as a boulder rolling down the sidewalk. It was a moonless night and had to be sometime after midnight. It was as dark as dark could be…so dark that I sat up, pulled down my lower eyelid and stuck my finger to my eyeball just to be absolutely awake. Yep, I was awake.

Through the front door walked Walter…well, a blurry white Walter. He walked through the door, gave a little wave to me, and walked into the kitchen, disappearing through the door of my brother’s room.

“Mom, Mom. Wake up.” I shook my mother awake. I told her what had just happened. “Go back to sleep. It was just your imagination.” Resigned I returned to the couch. I laid there saddened that my mother didn’t believe me. I know what I saw!

I wasn’t scared, you see…but excited because I knew there was something after death. It was Walter but it wasn’t. It was his ghost, his spirit bidding me farewell.

It was one of those typical evenings in Hollister. The weather was perfect and it was during that window of time between irrigating the orchards and picking fruit. That meant there was little we could do in terms of damaging the irrigation ditches and wouldn’t be throwing rotted fruit at one another. We had free reign of the “ranch.”  

On such a night, as the sun tipped its face toward the horizon, we had an experience I will never forget. We had spent a good part of the day playing hide and seek, climbing trees, and having dirt clod wars. The kids came in for dinner that consisted of baloney sandwiches (with Miracle Whip (yuck) and barbeque potatoe chips.  Then it was time to play after dinner games until it got too dark to see. It was the weekend and our bedtimes were later than the usual weeknights. My sister, brother, and I were respectively eight, three, and six. It was a huge deal to be able to stay up late!

We hadn’t harassed Jack, the donkey in a few hours. It was time for torture. We didn’t really torture him. We picked on him because he was the next lower step in the evolution of our families. Parents picking on children, older siblings picking on younger siblings and all that. It was only natural we turned to picking on Jack that night because we were actually getting along. All six of us…at the same time!

Jack was in the part of the property that was open. I ran up to him, stuck my butt in front of his face shaking it.  “Neener, neener, neener!” I yelled and took off running across the yard in my zories (rubber flip flops). Never one to miss the chance to torture us kids, Jack took the bait and took off running after me. I had a head start because Jack was a little dumb and it took longer for his brain to make up his mind.

I ran toward the river where there was s big old tree with a giant low branch. Even now I can smell the euclalyptus trees that lined the river banks. I jumped up on that branch just before Jack skidded to a halt. Before I could pull my legs up, Jack got one  my zories. He pulled on the zorie as I pull my feet up.

The other kids ran back and forth to distract Jack and retrieve my zorie. I can still hear Jack’s braying. Zorie retrieved, game over! Jack knew when it was time to quit. He was sorely outnumbered.

Just beyond the eucalyptus trees lay the river. On this night hovering just above the river was this huge spinning object made of mulicolored lights. We didn’t see it until we heard the low drone emitting from it. There we were…six children below the age of ten…transfixed by this unearthly object. I recall not being able to run or look away.

I’m not sure how long we stood there. But suddenly, as though someone cued us with a loud snap of the fingers, we took off running as fast as our youth could take us. Six sets of fists pounded on the back door of the house. “Open the door!” The door was locked. We hear the sound of the lock as the door opens just a crack and a hand comes out with a box of “Monster Cookies.”  All of our voices are combined into a roar that says only “scared, lights, something big.” A voice comes from behind the door that says, “Go scare them away with these Monster cookies!”

Twenty-five years later we are in the company of our childhood friends. “Did that really happen?” I asked. “Oh, yes. It was real. In fact, the local newspaper had an article in the ’25 years ago today’ section’ about a UFO hovering above the river.”

This past year I was talking with my mother. She says she remembers that evening and that she also saw the UFO. Forty something years later we both wonder why we never talked about it. Mom reminded me that shortly before or after that event, we were driving in the car to our friends’ house and saw a light in the sky which we chased until it disappeared.

I often wonder what, if anything, happened that night down by the river. I also wonder if this event was what prompted my reply to the question, “Now that you’re finally pregnant after five years and tens of thousands of dollars, is there anything that scares you?”

“I’m afraid aliens will steal my baby…”