Sunday, September 14, 2003
(Haunted) House Hunting
Finally found a house to live in. This one feels very positive, no standing up hairs or visions in the mirrors, no slamming portals or secret messages, no whispered voices. Yet.
This is the first house I'll ever live in that is not really close to a cemetery. I'm not unhappy about that.
While house hunting, there were several houses that I looked at that were already inhabited. There was one that was on Cleveland Heights Blvd., a blue and white one with an ivy- covered yard, but the man who lived there hasn't left yet. I think he might have died in the house, or was dying in the house, for the energy was throat-constricting. The safest place felt like the basement--I'll bet that he hadn't gone down there because it was too hard for him to get up and down the stairs, but I'm just speculating now. Anyway, I couldn't stay in the house for long. And the rest of the day I had a sore throat.
The other one was more subtle. We looked at a house on Lancashire. The realtor had closed the second floor window the last time she was there, but it was open. She closed it and we went up to the third floor. When we came back down the window was partially open again, and without remarking on it, she closed it again.
While we were there I noticed that all of the bedrooms (and the third floor as well) have extra deadbolt style locks, or in the case of one room, a flip latch and a padlock on them, as well as the traditional skeleton key lock. One of the rooms had both, plus a hook-latch. When we walked downstairs the third floor and the bathroom window were shut.
We walked through the rest of the house and took several more notes. I decided that I wanted another peek at the third floor. I walked up to the landing and heard a door creak. When I arrived there, the third floor door was open. I walked up, got my look and walked down again, closing the third floor door behind me.
When we walked out of the house, we stood on the lawn for a few minutes. The realtor happened to look up and she muttered, "I thought I closed that." I looked up, and the bathroom window was open again.
I wonder if the current tenants are having trouble keeping all of the windows and doors shut. I wonder if all the locks help.
Finally found a house to live in. This one feels very positive, no standing up hairs or visions in the mirrors, no slamming portals or secret messages, no whispered voices. Yet.
This is the first house I'll ever live in that is not really close to a cemetery. I'm not unhappy about that.
While house hunting, there were several houses that I looked at that were already inhabited. There was one that was on Cleveland Heights Blvd., a blue and white one with an ivy- covered yard, but the man who lived there hasn't left yet. I think he might have died in the house, or was dying in the house, for the energy was throat-constricting. The safest place felt like the basement--I'll bet that he hadn't gone down there because it was too hard for him to get up and down the stairs, but I'm just speculating now. Anyway, I couldn't stay in the house for long. And the rest of the day I had a sore throat.
The other one was more subtle. We looked at a house on Lancashire. The realtor had closed the second floor window the last time she was there, but it was open. She closed it and we went up to the third floor. When we came back down the window was partially open again, and without remarking on it, she closed it again.
While we were there I noticed that all of the bedrooms (and the third floor as well) have extra deadbolt style locks, or in the case of one room, a flip latch and a padlock on them, as well as the traditional skeleton key lock. One of the rooms had both, plus a hook-latch. When we walked downstairs the third floor and the bathroom window were shut.
We walked through the rest of the house and took several more notes. I decided that I wanted another peek at the third floor. I walked up to the landing and heard a door creak. When I arrived there, the third floor door was open. I walked up, got my look and walked down again, closing the third floor door behind me.
When we walked out of the house, we stood on the lawn for a few minutes. The realtor happened to look up and she muttered, "I thought I closed that." I looked up, and the bathroom window was open again.
I wonder if the current tenants are having trouble keeping all of the windows and doors shut. I wonder if all the locks help.
genealogy search
Old Stories
It occurred to me that I should write about some of the unexplained, or simply odd, things that have happened to me in my life. I'm not the most chronologically or temporally minded person in the world, so I promise nothing in regard to order or correct times and dates. I'm lucky if I know what day of the week it is or where I'm supposed to be.
So, starting now, I'm going to add stories from my past, as well, but I'll be sure to write that fact into the posting so you can keep it straight in your head. Some people seem to think that's important.
Some stuff I'd like to cover, just for my own notes, I guess:
the window at Lancashire
The Fireball story
The Turkish Hospital
Sailor Dreams
Lester's flying cat
Boko hides from the column
Tasha sees something
Tasha's Gold Dog dream
The Angel
the seashell dream
The dress that walked
Vlad's birthday present at the Center
Bill's theatre laughter
Grandmothers
Huntington's ghost
Time travel
rainbow scarf
the rock thrower
that's a good enough reminder, I think, although the Fireball story and the seashell dream story may take a long time to tell...
It occurred to me that I should write about some of the unexplained, or simply odd, things that have happened to me in my life. I'm not the most chronologically or temporally minded person in the world, so I promise nothing in regard to order or correct times and dates. I'm lucky if I know what day of the week it is or where I'm supposed to be.
So, starting now, I'm going to add stories from my past, as well, but I'll be sure to write that fact into the posting so you can keep it straight in your head. Some people seem to think that's important.
Some stuff I'd like to cover, just for my own notes, I guess:
the window at Lancashire
The Fireball story
The Turkish Hospital
Sailor Dreams
Lester's flying cat
Boko hides from the column
Tasha sees something
Tasha's Gold Dog dream
The Angel
the seashell dream
The dress that walked
Vlad's birthday present at the Center
Bill's theatre laughter
Grandmothers
Huntington's ghost
Time travel
rainbow scarf
the rock thrower
that's a good enough reminder, I think, although the Fireball story and the seashell dream story may take a long time to tell...
genealogy search
Monday, September 08, 2003
Split Lip
I glanced at the mirror this morning thinking not much of anything yet as I had not yet had my coffee. Suddenly I noticed that I had a split lip that appeared to be bleeding. I looked down at the faucet to turn it on and when I looked back, my lip was fine.
Odd, I thought, and went on to my morning routine of splashing some water on my face, brushing my teeth, and determining whether or not I need to do anything more elaborate in pursuit of some semblance of grooming. After a few minutes, I had pretty much forgotten all about it.
I worked all day, and at the end of the day was cleaning up in the bathroom of the house I'm restoring, and somehow in the cleaning up process, managed to cut my lip. I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but I must have cut it on some piece of plaster or something that was hiding in a towel. One moment I had looked in the mirror at my paint-flecked face, and my lip was unscathed. Just a few minutes later, I glanced back in it to make sure I had removed most of the paint with the towel and my lip was cut and bleeding, in the same place and way I had seen it in the morning.
I glanced at the mirror this morning thinking not much of anything yet as I had not yet had my coffee. Suddenly I noticed that I had a split lip that appeared to be bleeding. I looked down at the faucet to turn it on and when I looked back, my lip was fine.
Odd, I thought, and went on to my morning routine of splashing some water on my face, brushing my teeth, and determining whether or not I need to do anything more elaborate in pursuit of some semblance of grooming. After a few minutes, I had pretty much forgotten all about it.
I worked all day, and at the end of the day was cleaning up in the bathroom of the house I'm restoring, and somehow in the cleaning up process, managed to cut my lip. I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but I must have cut it on some piece of plaster or something that was hiding in a towel. One moment I had looked in the mirror at my paint-flecked face, and my lip was unscathed. Just a few minutes later, I glanced back in it to make sure I had removed most of the paint with the towel and my lip was cut and bleeding, in the same place and way I had seen it in the morning.
genealogy search
