Opening my Third Eye

  It had been nearly a year since my Mom came through to me and over that time, it had brought me some comfort and even closure which I had been unable to grasp since her untimely death six years prior. My friend Jerome, who had made this communication possible, had progressed with his gift of clairvoyancy and had begun to help those who used him as a medium to find peace with whatever unfinished business they had left here on Earth. Some of these spirits were even hostile and he was able to lead them beyond. I had also developed something more myself in this period of time because he had opened my eyes to the possibility that there was more to be felt, known, and seen that what my perception had once allowed me to.

 I started to take notice of the little things that would normally go unnoticed. My Mom appeared in my dreams all the time, but we never spoke. Jerome assured me that was just her way of letting me know she was there. I still saw morning doves everywhere, the sign that I had asked for on that day I spoke with her. It wasn’t just seeing them like you see any bird that darts away at a human’s presence, they would be close to me, take notice of me, and look directly at me without flying away abruptly. My husband, who had only met my Mom once aside from her funeral, knows that he saw her sitting at the table that I kept flowers on for her. I still kept them there after Jerome told me she sat there and like the flowers.  All of this, and I still questioned whether or not the bumps in the night that I heard around my house were just normal noises and I was having a psychosomatic reaction or not, but the thing of it was that it was not just bumps. I had started to hear whispering and giggling quite often and had been seeing movement almost like shadows where shadows could not have been produced. Either way, it never frightened me, I did not find them imposing in anyway… but I wanted to know what it was.

            My house had been built in 1910 and was the original farm house in that area. As the land was sold off, this area was now the middle of St. Paul, the capitol of Minnesota. The Amtrak train company was one to purchase some of this land and the track was still in use across the street which led to the metal bridge over Snelling Avenue that was notorious for its creative graffiti. It was a small house, but it was quaint and had some of its original character and natural woodwork. There was only one hallway that led from the kitchen in the back of the house. The brick of the chimney there had been covered and this is where I always saw the shadows. The single bathroom was to the right and it ended at what was my son’s bedroom. The rest of rooms were open one to another and had glass French doors that led to our room on the other end of the tiny house. It was cozy and lacked any eerie feeling at all.

             Now, I had mentioned these bumps in the night, but truly, all of my experiences that I could not logically explain were in the very early morning hours, never at night. There had been a number of times where I would be in the bathroom getting ready for my day and I would begin to hear giggling outside the door followed by tiny footsteps. Once, I had even received a knock at the door. Every time this happened, I would assume it was my son, who was 2 years old at the time, coming to say good morning to his Mommy, but every time, I would find him in his room at the end of that hallway sound asleep in bed. I had heard the same giggling at times in our unfinished basement when I would take a load of laundry down to be washed. There is one particular morning that will stay vivid in my memory forever. I awoke to whispering in my ear… I felt the breath of the whisper as it spoke, “It’s time to get up. I know it’s early, but I woke the house up too.” I was tired and groggy, and now a little flabbergasted and confused, but it was indeed time to get up, so I stumbled my way to the kitchen. As I walked through the living room, I began to see tiny white lights about the size of a quarter shining off the hardwood floors. The sun had yet to come over the horizon, so it could not have been a mere reflection from anything, but it was honestly, like the shine off of a paten leather shoe. They moved in a walking pattern and disappeared around that corner where I always see the shadows. I heard the giggling, made some coffee and got on with my day.

             I so very much wanted to contact Jerome about all of this, but did not want to impose as he had been bombarded with people wanting and needing his help. So much so, that his friends were trying to get him to charge for his time, but he believed that a gift is a gift to help people, not to make money. I never did call, but little did I know that in a few weeks time, his band would be playing a show in St. Paul and he would be staying at my house. Looks like I would possibly get some questions answered after all…

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