In the midst of the witching hour, he awoke to the sense that he wasn’t alone. He slowly opened his eyes and let his pupils adjust to the blackness surrounding him. To his horror, he saw something at the foot of his bed. Not one thing, but two things. Children. Little girls in early 20th century dresses, their faces blurred, walking back and forth, oblivious to his presence. Fear gripped his heart as he struggled to make sense of what he saw. Should he move? Would they look at him?
He quickly jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom as fast as he could. He struggled to catch his breath. Why were there ghosts haunting his bedroom? Who were these girls? Had they been murdered in this house? Were their graves under the foundation? Would they still be there when he returned?
My brother went back to the room and quickly turned on the lights. He breathed a sigh of relief. They were gone.
When he told me this story the next morning, that he had seen ghosts in my house, I didn’t hesitate to believe him. I had heard strange sounds and felt a presence there before, but I’d never seen anything. It freaked me out thinking the ghosts of little girls might be roaming my guest bedroom, but my wife just snickered. She didn’t believe it for a second. She figured he dreamed up the whole thing and it felt so real, he had convinced himself it had been.
It’s a rare point of contention in the Stewart house. I believe in ghosts. My wife does not. Where do you stand?
I’ve read a lot of literature on the spiritual world. I’ve watched “Ghost Hunters” and “Celebrity Ghost Stories”. My hair stylist recently showed me a picture of a ghost inside a Brookside home. His friend captured it on the iPhone. It showed a translucent woman staring with black eyes.
Scary!
I’ve had some freaky experiences of my own. The night my grandmother passed away, I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of my car horn blaring. I went outside to see what was going on and discovered a short. I disconnected the wires, reconnected it and everything was fine. I wondered if Grandma was trying to say hi. Then two years later, my grandfather passed. Again, as I walked to my car in the middle of the night, a car alarm in the parking lot went off. There was no one around. I wondered if that was Grandpa trying to say hi.
My wife would say the car horn and car alarm going off right after my grandparents died was coincidence, not their spirits trying to contact me. I’d rather believe they were trying to let me know they were fine. Granted, it was their spirit and not their ghost that contacted me. While there are differences, both exist in another dimension, one we barely understand.
So here’s my theory on ghosts. When we die, I believe there is a light we are supposed to fly toward. But some people who aren’t ready to die yet refuse to see the light or go toward it. Let’s say someone is suddenly murdered and they are angry. They’re not ready to go. If they don’t want to see the light, if they don’t want to leave yet, they turn their back on it and stay here on earth. While the ghost exists in a different dimension, it can still reach out to us in the physical world. Doors shut. Moans echo through vents. Lights turn off and on. Until they decide to walk toward the light, these ghosts will stay here and continue to haunt us. Can they hurt us? I would like to think not, though I’ve read accounts of angry ghosts throwing objects at people. I think they are stuck here and don’t know how to escape.
After the “ghost girls incident” in my home, I went to the guest bedroom and tried to talk to them (really to the air, since I couldn’t see them) and encouraged them to walk toward the light. I felt stupid, but I didn’t want to risk ever seeing them. Since that time, I haven’t felt any presence in my home. There have been no ghost sightings. All seems normal.
Now besides ghosts, I also believe the spirits of our loved ones can come visit us. This is not as scary because they have good intentions. I think when spirits visit us, it’s to bring us comfort, not to freak us out.
After my grandmother died, my mother, aunt and grandfather were gathering her things to sell. In her bedroom were a pile of twist ties scattered haphazardly on the floor. They all left the room to gather some more things and when they came back, the twist ties were sitting on the dresser in the shape of a cross.
Believe.
You can reach Matt Stewart at matt.stewart@wdaftv4.com
