The disembodied arm arched upwards through the bed’s foundation, impacting full force between my shoulder blades, causing me to shoot bolt upright in the bed. It was 1:30 in the morning midweek.
I had been laying flat on my back, sound asleep. Now wide awake, I took stock of my surroundings and saw a princess dressed in a sparkling silver gown standing in the middle of the bedroom. She smiled and curtsied, projecting a radiant aura to illustrate her perfect health.
Her male companion who awakened me, was standing at the side of the bed on the edge of my peripheral vision and almost transparent. I say companion, but chaperone may be a better word.
I recognized the princess almost at once as Deirdre*, a high school friend’s mother. She had passed on several years before. Her spirit and will had been strong the last time I saw her, though she had been terribly crippled by arthritis. Tonight I saw a greater awareness and sense of freedom than when she was with us.
Deirdre was one of the good ones who, after transitioning, is now able to express more of who she really is. We were not extremely close, partly because of our age differences, our beliefs, and the fact that my friend was such a challenge for her. This night she stopped by to show me what she was like now and how she had changed.
She did not utter a word and didn’t stay long after her curtsy ended. Deirdre watched my comprehension deepen. As soon as she saw I understood and that I would remember, she and her companion disappeared. No flash, no fade – one instant they were with me, the next they were gone.
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That was over 35 years ago and I remember those few seconds like they were yesterday.
Every culture has stories, myths, and legends that have grown up over time and, whether true or not, are accepted by many. Our featured image above, The Ghost of the Sainte Claire Hotel, is an example.
The story of Deirdre is my firsthand account of a time when, in full consciousness, a friend from beyond the grave visited with me.
Just because I say it happened does not mean that is what actually happened. If you asked me though, I would tell you everything occurred exactly as I have stated it. I was in full waking consciousness, ConiAnn lying sleeping beside me, and unaware. After Deirdre left, I continued to sit upright for some time feeling the residual effects from her visit. There is no possibility of a lucid dream. This one was real.
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Not all disembodied personalities I have encountered have been as beneficent. On the whole, my experiences have been positive. Only three required intervention. In two cases a friend assisted me in ridding myself of unwanted attachments. In another a greater authority was required.
| The Alchemist helped the first time. He laughed at me as one might laugh at a child who attempted something foolish.Vernon* helped me the other time.I was on my way to his home and passed a funeral hearse.
I had sensed trouble ahead of me but drew closer anyhow. Traffic was backing up in a construction area on a divided highway and the hearse was going well below the posted speed limit. As soon as I drew alongside, an entity who was not and probably never was human sprang from the back of the hearse into my body. There was no getting rid of it. The thing had set its hooks too deeply. |
Editor’s Note: The experiences that Jeffrey shares in this post demonstrates why the connection to ancestral spirits was so important and co-existed with the fear of evil spirits. Understanding this explains the complicated beliefs that have grown into our Halloween. |
I arrived at Vern’s house several hours later and before I sat down groused, “Can you get this thing off me!? I can’t get rid of it.”
Vernon looked at me as though I should be able to take care of myself. “I know you can do it,” letting my eyes ask again. “I can’t.”
Vernon’s new wife and I met a couple of times before and now she looked from me to him and again from me to him with a bewildered stare.
“You ever have any back or neck injuries?” Asked Vernon.
I was confused. Vernon should know the answer to this; he helped stitch me together in the hospital. “I…” Before I could think of how I could answer the question, Vernon’s arms shot forward, grabbed my head, and gave a twist.
SNAP!
It was over. “Ya gotta make ‘em think the host is going to die otherwise they hold on.”
Vernon’s wife was the one confused now. He hadn’t shared everything about his past with her.
I felt fine. The creature was gone.
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– Jeffrey A. Limpert
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Image Information:
The Ghost of the Sainte Claire Hotel
By eschipul (Ed Schipul)
*Name is changed
Amazon – Unfolding: Awakening