Some times when they (and by “they” I mean ghosts, spirits, or other beings,) take objects the outcome can be very funny. Those of you who read the previous post on this, or have had these experiences yourselves, may fully understand that at times the missing object routine can become frustrating. There are some occasions where it can be amusing and have often wondered if they understand what makes us laugh and if our joy is the goal.

I never liked my cousin Mike. He was four years older and ten times stronger and not especially nice to me. As in most families we got lumped together for events because we were reasonably close in age and he always found a way to embarrass me.

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One day, one of my favorite paranormal events of my life occurred and the tables turned.

Though I grew up in many haunted homes during this time our little place by the ocean seemed no more haunted than a grocery store, (not that some of those don’t play host to spookies.) Or so I thought for the first few months.

Our little place had beach front access and it was something I thoroughly enjoyed. On this particular day Mike and I went down to the beach to swim and once again he persisted in trying to make my day miserable. I am very strong swimmer, but he kept dragging me under and causing me to choke on water. Nothing dangerous, but certainly not fun.

At some point in the evening we got called in for dinner. I obediently got out and grabbed my towel, but when I turned to look Mike was no closer to swimming in. I could tell he wasn’t in any danger and when I called after him he simply told me he wasn’t coming.

I am nothing if not stubborn and after already having to deal with his  antics that last thing I wanted was to have to wait to head back because he didn’t feel like swimming in yet.

He refused to swim in for so long that his mother came looking for us, now irritated. I wasn’t worried, I was all ready out!

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After some yelling back and forth between Mike and my aunt he finally began moving towards us and as he approached waist level in the water I realized his reasons for not wanting to venture out. He no longer had any trunks on.

I gasped and turned away as he reached the shore, yelling about how something had caught on his shorts and tugged them all the way off. I was glad I had been nowhere near him at the time but completely visible otherwise I might have been blamed.

His mother handed him a towel, but I could see Mike was thoroughly embarrassed. His face was bright red and scowling as he and his mother passed. He continued to complain about his missing shorts all the way across the beach.

I noticed he’d forgotten the bag with his shirt, socks and shoes in it. Typical. So I ran over to where we had been earlier to pick it up. I’m not quite sure why I turned to look at the ocean again before leaving. I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, or feel anything for that matter. I certainly had no indication that ghost activity would be responsible for Mike’s missing trunks.

As I stood there I spotted something coming up in the surf and as I moved close I recognized his missing shorts. I remember rolling my eyes and wondering if he’d done it just to cause a ruckus, but judging from how angry and embarrassed he was I quickly dismissed the thought.

I walked into the water, only about up to my mid calf, and plucked the bobbing clothing out of the surf. It took me a minute to realize that they were completely dry. I mean BONE dry, not just water resistant. I looked down at the tiny waved around me and back the completely dry clothes.

And then I looked out, onto the ocean and there in the water I saw a girl smiling. I knew she wasn’t really there, by this age I had begun to notice some of the difference between living people and the “others.” She smiled at me and then reached her hands above her and shot into the air like she was diving into a pool of water above her. As she moved up and completely out of the water she vanished.

I think I heard her laughing as she left, but it may just have been the gulls. I said thank you aloud and I turned to leave. I stopped and looked down at the inexplicably dry shorts in my hand. Pausing to consider the probably outcome of my taking them back to Mike, and looking around to make sure that I was alone, I threw them on the sand. Just far enough that I knew the tide wouldn’t get them and carry them away.

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When we returned the next day to swim (Mike borrowed some trunks from his father,) they were there in the sand. He used those trunks off and on over the next four years and I laughed every time I saw them. This always made Mike scowl, but he never knew the real reason why.

Goodbye for now, another end.
Until a time we meet again.

-Seline

During the time period when I was just beginning to understand that I could see ghosts, more specifically at the time, ghost animals, I met a friend that would change my life for some time.

I was taken out to visit a farm around the age of seven or so, a place my parents knew well because some of their very good friends had owned the place for years. Sadly it is gone now. Sold and chopped and reinvented so that now it holds all of the majesty and wonder of an old shoe; condos that all look identical with no personality or even an artist’s touch. How sad for us all, those who live in them and those who have their creative talents laid to rest designing them. But enough about that…

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I believe I was always shy around new people and though there were other children there, I did not take to them well. My attention was focused on the vast expanse of space that reminded more of pictures in books than real life. I was after all a city kid to the core and I’m not sure I quite believed that such places truly existed until then.

Walking toward an old wooden fence I watched the wildlife. Some I knew was living, breathing and absolutely amazing to watch. Some I knew was not. By this time in my life I knew better than to point out the latter in front of strangers, so I simply watched as the paranormal events blending with natural wildlife play out.

It was standing against that fence that I first noticed Duke. Though he was a very large dog, it wasn’t his size that caught my attention; it was that he didn’t fit at all. Unlike the rest of the animals he wasn’t really a part of the surroundings, but he certainly wasn’t dead either.

I remember running up to my mother and asking about him as she chatted with her friend on the porch and I was told that Duke was not a very friendly dog; that he didn’t much care for children. I ran back over to watch him and he certainly didn’t seem friendly. He snapped at one of the other dogs there when it got too close and he wore an expression that just looked to fierce for you’re a-typical farm pup.

I decided I liked him anyway. Even after he walked close to the fence and growled at me, which did cause me to take a step back, but did not divert my attention.

~

On my second visit to the farm a few months later I took off by myself. I wasn’t really supposed to go outside of the main gate, but no one was watching all of the kids playing and I believe it was assumed that the gate latch was too tall and difficult for smaller kids. Fortunately for me, I always had friends nearby who could give me a hand with such things.

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I suppose the point of keeping me in the fenced yard was a concern that I might get lost or hurt on my own. I managed to do the first quite easily and the other I came close to; close enough that if not for Duke I might have truly regretted my adventure.

Though I had gotten lost I was still enjoying myself. The woods there were beautiful and very large to me, though in time I would see that size is all relative. I had managed to pick up a companion, one of the other younger dogs had followed me out and it was perhaps his company that allowed me not fear losing my way. I truly had no idea where I was, nor how to find my way back again, but I kept going deeper into the woods. The place seemed magical in a way, perhaps just because I hadn’t had much experience with the outdoors.

~

Walking down that path must have peeked some sort of curiosity in Duke, because after a little while the friendly dog and I were no longer alone. Though I knew enough about him to recognize the oddity I did not mind that I now had a friendly dog walking on one side and Duke, the so-called grump on my other. I didn’t try to pet him, I think I knew he wouldn’t like it, or perhaps he just made me nervous.

The three of us went on that way for some time and though Duke would sometimes give me a sideways glance he didn’t growl at all, just continued to keep pace with our little group of escapees.

I saw a great deal in the woods that day. Thinking back on it they must have raised dogs on that farm and must have been doing so for a long time. There were many ghost dogs on the property that skittered by in the trees, but did not approach. I found it interesting that every time I saw one, Duke seemed to notice as well, though he did not seem upset by them at all.

At some point I point my hand on his back. A bold move I know, perhaps even stupid, but I was already a long way from smart decisions that day. Duke didn’t shy away or react badly to my touch, giving me only another sideways look before turning his head forward again. This I remember very well because it made me so happy. Once I felt as though he didn’t mind my being close I think I relaxed and really began to realize that I had no idea where I was.

It was getting dark then and dark in the woods is a great deal different than dark in your own backyard when your mother is calling out from the lighted porch that you have five more minutes to play.

I think I started to get scared. Foolishly I think on some level I expected the path to lead back to the house, or some kind of marker that would steer me back. I should have turned around. That would have led me back the way I came and hopefully back to the house, as long as I didn’t take any wrong turns.

So what did I do? I kept going! Perhaps I saw light ahead, I honestly don’t remember why I decided that it was best to plow forward rather than turn back. The two dogs stayed with me, bright in the darkening woods with their lighter colored fur. To this day I don’t know what kind of dogs they were. Large, with light fur and ears that perked up at the slightest sound.

~

It was on the path, still trudging forward that I first heard the rattle. I don’t think I had been paying attention to the path ahead until I heard that noise. I looked up to see a snake, semi-coiled and making a noise that I had only heard in movies. I knew that it was bad. I also knew that snakes could lunge. I further knew that the sound meant it was upset. I froze.

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How long I would have stood there I’m not sure. I think I hoped the snake would give up and slither away, but I was not so lucky. I was getting ready to run when it attacked. The speed stunned me and the distance it covered surprised me even though I knew enough to understand that snakes had a long striking distance.

I doubt I would have been able to move out of the way in time. I don’t know what would have happened. Being so small and so far from help I don’t know if I would have been found in time or if I would have curled up and died on that path.

I didn’t have the opportunity to find out. As I stood there cringing against the expectation of pain Duke shot out and charged the snake. It slipped backward as he chased it off into the brush and out of my view. I didn’t get to see much, I think I was too stunned to take it all in. I do remember hearing him growl and bark at the predator and that it was a very frightening sound.

Once again I waited. I didn’t turn and run as I might have been better off doing. I think I wanted to make sure that it was safe, but also that Duke was okay.

After a few minutes the giant dog returned to the path, seemingly unscathed. He stood right in front of me looking at my face and I merely gazed at him, really getting to see him from that angle for the first time. I dropped to me knees in the path. I don’t think I intended to, but I was much shaken. Duke got closer and licked my face. He was panting pretty hard and though is breath was awful I don’t think it bothered me in the slightest.

I reached out then to stroke his face; he licked my hand and allowed me to touch his fur, though I still don’t believe he was ever much for pats.

~

When I finally got up, the three of us turned and followed the path back to the house. After a while I heard yelling and eventually yelling that I recognized as my name being called. At some point I remember knowing that I would be in trouble and feeling a little unhappy about getting back now that I knew I was on the right track, but with one hand on Duke I still felt happy enough.

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I did get in trouble, but my parents were more worried than angry as parents so often are.

I didn’t mention the snake. I honestly thought I would be in more trouble, so I just left out the details. Duke didn’t follow me in the gate as the other dog did. He watched from outside as the grownups made a fuss about my return and the other children gawked at me, probably waiting to hear how much trouble I was in.

Duke stayed just outside, but he kept watching. I didn’t lose sight of him until just before we went inside and as we reached the door he took off back towards the woods we had walked through. Despite everything that had happened I remember very much wishing I could go with him. It would be a long time before I saw him again and the last time I would see him in a living form.

Goodbye for now, another end.
Until a time we meet again.

-Seline

There are many people who do not believe in ghost hauntings by animals, even those who strongly believe in the paranormal. I have always found this strange personally because it was these spirits which allowed me to understand what was happening at a very early age.

Being moved around a lot as a child I believe causes one to feel distant from any normal attachments and though I certainly did inhabit more than one real haunted house I paid little attention to the beings around me for a long time.

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It was the animals that captured my attention. It was they who perhaps allowed this ability, so often present in youth and so often obliterated in later years, to preserve my understanding against the deterioration of age.

Those who do believe in animal hauntings often make assumption about why an animal would remain behind after its’ death. A ghost cat or dog might stay close to those who cared for it, for example or a wild animal might continue to roam freely around its’ former hunting area.

I do believe that for some animals, just as with people this could be true. I have also come to understand that for some of the fauna in our world death eliminates their former selves and what they become has little need of revisiting the joys and sorrows of animal life.

In my experience, I have spoken with some who were once animals in our world, but have since moved past that point and even further beyond what a person might understand. The knowledge gained from such an experience has been amazingly expressed to me and I have marveled at the complexity which we take for granted so often in the wild life that surrounds us.

I think this is an important point to get across because above all I believe it is vital to recognize that while some beings do follow a pattern, nothing is certain. I learned this the hard way when my own pup was lost to me after being around most of my life. After so many years of receiving animal spirit visitors you can imagine my expectations. I waited after his passing to get a glimpse of him, to be comforted by his presence even if I couldn’t actually pet him (some you can, some you can’t go figure.)

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Despite the bond we shared he never came. I believe this is worth noting. To me it marked a time when I realized there was no distinct pattern. That despite my ability I could not count on seeing those I love immediately following their deaths. I even went through a period of time where I seriously doubted what I was seeing and became exceptionally skeptical of any “visitors.”

Where was I going with this?

Oh yes, just that my theories on supernatural animals extend out the same way they do with deceased people and then of course all the rest of what’s out there. I suppose two points on this are what I’d like to make clear: One, if ghosts exist at all (which obviously I believe they do,) animal ghosts are just as much a part of that world as anything else. Two: don’t be discouraged if you lose a pet and they don’t stop by to give you a paranormal lick, this doesn’t mean they didn’t care. I would have to wait over a year before I understood this, but eventually I did receive a visit from someone who helped me understand. A story for another time.

Goodbye for now, another end.
Until a time we meet again.

-Seline

As I wander through my life I find something lost.
Something I perhaps once had, but have now long forgot.

Only a glimmer of memory, in this most haunted place.
A sigh, a smile perhaps a look on your still shadowy face.

I look for you each place I go, sifting through haunted locations.
Piecing together what I can’t see hoping for this restoration.

What was it we had that continues to bind me?
If it’s been lost why does all of this remind me?

And of what…

I wouldn’t wish this if I’d had a choice.
Just a whisper of your former voice.

Will you be whole again? Will you find me here?
My whole life built so strangely because I knew you were near.

Is this what they call fate, or just all circumstance?
Led by your fleeting hand into paranormal romance.

-Seline

One thing anyone should know before seeking out ghost activity is that your items may be toyed with. This is important to understand because it can be very inconvenient at times and downright infuriating at others.

Mine started fairly early on, before I knew how to communicate. These events are often recorded in haunted homes, though it is with less frequency that the items themselves are actually visibly moved. In some cases it is believed that the items are not being moved by ghosts or spirits, but by a person in the home that is unaware of an ability they might possess, even temporarily. I believe in some cases this might be true as our understanding of how telekinesis works is often vague at best.

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In my situation, I truly believe that is was something else, something that delighted in teasing me just to the point before I became truly angry. We developed a system of tolerance, acceptance and finally, when I really needed something that had gone missing, demanding threats. This last bit worked most of the time by me throwing a tantrum, leaving a room and returning to find the missing item back in its’ place.

Locks and hidey-holes do not work against this sort of thing. It seems after all of these years that the best way to deal with situation is, like so many things in our lives, good communication. By expressing that you’re displeased, but not willing to linger to long (attention!) on the problem I believe most of them lose interest. I find now that it happens more often when I have become so busy with living life that I forget to spend some time with those others who are constantly here and perhaps constantly waiting. All in all, I can understand their frustration, but when your sunglasses go missing for the 100^th time and you find them in the microwave…the situation is chalked full of irritation and often a few good laughs.

Goodbye for now, another end.
Until a time we meet again.

-Seline

For a long time I didn’t know for certain that what I was seeing was real. I guess I didn’t exactly suspect that I was insane, or having hallucinations, but I didn’t know that each paranormal experience had anything to do with something more than my own mind.

One day that all changed and a began to better understand both my ability to see ghosts, or other beings in general and that I had to be careful with what I said and how I reacted.

I was about 8 or 9 years old when this event took place and had become somewhat accustom to seeing animals that I knew weren’t exactly there, or at the very least weren’t there for others to see.

Sitting in my room, probably playing with My Little Ponies, I noticed that my aunt’s dog had come into the room and seemed to be finding a place to settle in and go to sleep. It was a small dog, a terrier of some kind and though I wasn’t alarmed, I was immediately alerted to the fact that something was wrong.

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My aunt you see had never brought her dog to our house. She did not travel with her pup as some women do with their little purse-sized animal decorations (not that it can’t be cute, but the way they toss them around sometimes seems cruel to me.)

I sat there, paused in my play and watched as the animal curled up close to me on the rug and then looked up at me with those wonderful glossy eyes. I don’t know how many minutes passed as my youthful brain tried to grasp what was happening and why it was different from all of the other random animals I had seen.

After a time I got up and went into my father’s study. I remember watching him from the doorway, contemplating how to ask the question I needed to ask. As I stood there, he finally looked up and asked what was on my mind. I guess my face is rather an open book and he knew I was troubled by something, or perhaps all parents can read their children easily.

I know I hesitated. I remember that well. When I finally spoke I remember how calmly he took it. I would guess by then it was no longer a shock to him. Perhaps he had known for sometime what I was just then figuring out.

I simply asked my father if my aunt’s dog was dead.

He told me it had died that morning and that my mother had gone over to comfort her sister after such a heartbreaking loss.

I’m not sure if all children are strange creatures, or even if all children can see ghost dogs, but I know I didn’t want to tell him why I wanted to know. He suspected at the time and years later during one of our famous late night chats I confirmed my father’s suspicions by telling my side of the tale.

It was a monumental moment in my life and at the time I think I knew that a little, but nowhere near as much as I would come to understand later on.

After sitting with my father for a few minutes in silence, I jumped down from his lap and went back into my room. The dog, who I only ever heard called Pudding by the way, was still in my room when I returned. He looked up at me and I smiled at him before returning to my play.

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At some point Pudding left and I never saw him again. I have often wondered why he chose to come to me. We were not close, though I did always like him. Our house had not been his home, nor had I been the one to feed, play and adore him for most of his life. Perhaps he just needed to be seen one last time. Whatever the reason I have always been grateful to him for that day, it allowed me to begin seeing things very differently. I’ll have to remember to tell him some day.

Goodbye for now, another end.
Until a time we meet again.

-Seline

One of the most commonly discussed physical reactions in paranormal stories is that of cold spots or feeling cold during an event of this kind. There are many theories on the subject ranging from ethereal explanations dating back thousands of years to more scientific explanations that simply explain how some of these, or all of these, beings effect our core temperatures.

In my own experiences I have found that in some cases the cold is only an outer layer. As if the being were surrounded by cold, but once this is penetrated the inner core is actually quite warm. I find this interesting for several reasons:

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• One: I have never met another person who has had this same experience, though admittedly I have steered clear of many people who claim to see dead spirits or other types of paranormal beings. Why, I have done this is entirely different subject, I promise we’ll get to that eventually.
• Two: If what I am feeling is accurate it may help to confirm something that took me years to figure out; most of the experiences I have had have not been with dead human beings. Again, there is a lot to cover there and I assure you we will be getting into that in future posts.
• Three: If the cold is only an outer layer on some paranormal beings, this may be a way of telling one from another simply based on feeling, the same way a person might close their eyes, step outside and be able to know whether or not it was summer or winter.

In order to better understand this I have many times Shared Space with a being (see glossary.) I have spent hours trying to feel my way through what happens to my body physically when coming into direct contact with a paranormal being and have found that though the results vary from being to being there is definitely a consistency with the cold, be it though and through or just an exterior chill.

So why is this important? Because we still don’t know exactly how these beings work. What are their genetics like? Do they even have genetics? What causes living people to feel their presence as a chill or cold spot in a room?

The closer we get to understanding what type of physical presence a paranormal being has the better our understanding may be of why they are here and what we might learn from them.

Now it is important to remember that this subject is not a new one. People have been testing, talking, poking and chanting at spirits for years. They have been scrutinized, analyzed, theorized and even demonized over thousands of years. The cold issue has been looked at over and over again and may be a familiar response to you as well as the millions of people who have studied the paranormal over these many centuries. One thing however remains true: we still don’t know exactly why.

The most obvious place to begin apart from study and data, is simply to ask. Yes, just ask them why they seem to bring cold with them. Unfortunately this hasn’t been the easiest thing to communicate. I have had answers ranging from “because we do” to “we’re not cold, you are” and a great deal in-between. The paranormal beings I have come in contact with that seem to be able to communicate the most clearly have suggested that it is a combination of physical reaction to their presence combined with another kind of sense built in to alarm us, or alert us to the presence of something outside of our normal world.

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I continue to wonder why this effect takes place, but I admit I have become accustom to it. Getting the chills has become such a part of my normal life that I barely even notice them anymore. I do pay attention to them if I suspect that something is in the room with me and I have not felt, seen or heard any other signs, but to base it on this alone always feels rather silly.

Like so many topics dealing with the paranormal, the cold which seems to accompany them appears to be yet another key to understanding their existence. I recommend that those looking for experiences pay attention to the cold, but do not rely on it too heavily to confirm the existence of something. After all, at this point we only have dots to connect, but nowhere to connect them to…yet.

Goodbye for now, another end.
Until a time we meet again.

-Seline

I walk in silence,
in this most haunted place.
Dew now clinging,
to my hands and face.
The morning light,
still quite far away.
I see ghosts here,
watch them laugh and play.
Is it too far reaching?
Is it in my head?
How can one be sure,
they are among the dead?

-Seline

For many years I experienced paranormal events without really considering what others saw or heard or how my own actions were viewed by those around me. This is perhaps one of the joys of being a child, long before peer pressure and societal impositions. Haunted kids can enjoy the freedom of interacting with supernatural events without understanding the skepticism that they will encounter later in life. For the purposes of experience this is a wonderful thing, to collect data, perhaps more of a balance is necessary.

This blissful state in which I paid little attention to what others thought all came to a screeching halt one day when I was on the playground at school. It was midday and a nice sunny one if I remember correctly.

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I noticed a cat wandering across the blacktop where we played foursquare and tetherball and speculated over what we might do as grownups. It wasn’t very out of place, a cat trotting around, as our school yard was near a park and many houses and not entirely enclosed.

Naturally being an animal lover I walked over the little tabby, grayish white, and leaned down to pet it. The cat seemed to approve of this and rolled onto its’ back, giving me the all clear for a belly rub.

I sat there for a few minutes petting the cat and listening to it purr. After a time one of my friends came up behind me and asked me what  I was doing. This was a difficult question to answer. Not because my friend didn’t believe in real hauntings or ghosts, but because I had no idea what she meant. Yes, I thought the cat was real.

I would have to venture a guess that this wasn’t the first time I had touched a ghost animal, but perhaps the first time anyone had witnessed me doing it. I’m not certain what I might have done had I known the cat wasn’t the type others could see, but I clearly remember having no idea what my friend found so perplexing about petting a cat.

I think at the time I said something brilliant like “huh?” My friend repeated herself, looking in the spot where my hands played with what I assume she saw as nothing.

Then lightning struck, I got it.

It was one of those moments in life when you are taken completely unaware and then have no idea how to react. It was horrible at the time and a little funny to me now.

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I believe I got out of the situation by telling her something incredibly clever and elusive like “nothing.” I then got up and went back to whatever game we felt like playing and my friend said nothing more about it.

The cat watched me go and eventually got up and lazily walked away and off of our playground. The incident itself was really nothing unusual for that time of my life, but it taught me a valuable lesson about being careful in front of others. One that I would have to come across again and again as adulthood approached and with it a real need to be cautious.

Goodbye for now, another end.
Until a time we meet again.

-Seline