The Paranormal & Supernatural
We used to have a little old lady with dementia and she was a feisty lil thing; bossy too. I was in the supply closet one night around 1 am, and I heard her behind me telling me 'put that back!"
First, I wondered how she followed me in there without me knowing it, then giggled a little that she was sneaky (and feisty) so as I grabbed things off the shelf, I asked her, "put what back, Mrs A?"
I turned to look at her when she didn't answer and that's when I remembered, she had died 4 days earlier. I never heard her again after that.
I used to let her sit up at night with me so she wouldn't crawl out of bed and I hated the restraints. I wonder if she were coming to tell me goodbye?
I received a call late one night from my sister. I knew it was her before I touched the phone and I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be good so, when I answered, I asked, “What happened?”
She paused for several seconds before she finally answered, “It’s Bruce… he’s had an accident.”
“What kind of accident?” I pressed.
“A motorcycle accident,” she answered. “He’s dead. He was at a stoplight and some young couple ran the red light. The girl was driving and she said Bruce just ran right into them head on.”
I was so shocked. I literally could not think of anything appropriate to say. All I managed was, “Did they charge the girl with anything?”
“I don’t know,” my sister went on, “Karl, (our brother) said the young girl is about eighteen and she was hysterical. The police told him that Bruce went right through the windshield and landed on top of her. She was screaming ‘Get the dead guy off me!’ and, of course, she was covered in his blood.”
We talked for a little while longer and I assured her that in the morning my husband and I would make preparations to go to Arizona. After all, there was nothing we could do until morning anyway. Also, we would have to make arrangements for our kids to stay with someone until we could get back home.
Without question, I stayed up all night. I couldn’t sleep a wink. By 5:00 that morning, I had decided I wasn’t going to fight it anymore and I’d just crash after I got the kids off to school.
My daughter, who was ten at the time, came trudging from her room, yawning, and wiping sleep from her eyes.
“I had a really bad dream last night,” she said through her yawns. She talked using her hands to demonstrate the events of her dream. “It was really weird. I kept dreaming that this man was on a motorcycle and he plowed right through the windshield of a car. He landed on this blonde girl who was driving and she was screaming for someone to get the dead guy off of her.”
“What did you say?” I asked. She had no way of knowing what had happened.
“Yeah, weird, huh?” she said with a laugh.
This was not the first time she’s come out and told me of her dreams and it turned out be something real; something that’s happened so, I don’t know why I was so surprised. “Do you know who the guy was?”
“Nope, I never saw him before in my life, or her, either, but she sure wanted that dead guy off her. She was all crazy and everything!”
Without telling her details of the accident, we did explain that her uncle had passed and we were going to fly out to Arizona the next morning. However, I kept thinking about what the driver said, “Get the dead guy off me!” and my daughter repeating those words verbatim.
Before leaving, I dug an old picture of Bruce out of a box I had with old pictures of my family. It was the only one I had of him and I left it on the table while I went to nap. I was going to show the picture to my daughter when they came in from school.
I heard them when they came in so I got up and started toward the kitchen. My daughter was standing at the table holding the old photograph of my brother when she said, “Hey, Mom, how did you get a picture of the dead guy from my dreams?”
When I was younger, I would sometimes work for a nursing agency Per Diem. Most of my agency calls were for out of town about an hour and a half away as they did not like to assign us in our local facilities.
Many of those calls had me drive through several really small, rinky-dink towns so small, they had one stoplight in the middle of their town. They were very rural.
I had an unusual experience during a drive-thru in one particular town. It was always during daylight hours. On the edge of town, I would see a man standing on the side of the road with a bag at his feet. He would stand there and watch the cars as they went by. I considered that he was waiting for his ride to work. He was dressed in blue jeans, a polo style shirt, and a pair of work boots. Maybe a construction worker or someone related to that field.
I felt bad for him to be living in such a small town that, obviously, he worked outside of it and didn’t have a way to get there. I often thought I might stop and ask if he needed a lift, but either he wasn’t there when I went by or I’d be in a hurry and didn’t have time to stop.
There was something a little off about the whole situation. Then I noticed, whenever I did see him, he was always going to work. If I were coming through at 7 in the morning from working the graveyard shift, or coming back from a 7-3 shift in the afternoon, I might see him standing there waiting in the same spot with the bag at his feet watching the traffic as if he were waiting for his ride.
Even though it started to creep me out, it wasn’t what bothered me the most. I was having a hard time putting my finger on it, though. Then I noticed he wore the same clothes every day. I maybe could have passed it off and said that I was just passing him on the same day he had decided to wear those clothes again. After all, I didn’t work every day for the agency nor did I see him every time I passed by, either. But I’m not much for coincidences.
The last two times that I went by him, just before I quit working for the nursing agency, it dawned on me what was more strange than him always looking for a ride or wearing the same clothes each time I saw him. It was how he always looked so solid upon my approach. However, when I drove past, he looked opaque. I could see through him. It wasn’t until then that I realized he was a ghost.
While on Front Street today, I went over to the Kaminski House Museum to use the public bathrooms. When I came out, I heard a dog running up to me. I could hear his toenails as his little paws hit the cement and I clearly heard him panting.
I turned around to show the doggy where the water bowl was that the museum keeps out for animals, but there was no dog there. I thought I must be hearing things and turned to walk away again.
The dog came running to me a second time. Thinking I might have missed him the first time, I turned to look for him again and again, there was no dog present.
I went to the gift shop and told Lisa Stalvey what had happened. She had a very good point... Frank was buried on the property. For those Georgetonians that do not know who Frank is or what relationship he had with the Kaminski's go visit the museum.
I was at my daughter’s babysitting my granddaughter one afternoon. My husband (Grandpa), was with me at first, but he had gotten a call for work and had to leave.
I know their house sits on old rice fields, as do several other homes down the lane. I had never given it much thought before, but now, I consider that it’s old land and that it has a history; quite possibly, a haunted history.
My granddaughter had pulled me into her room to play for a minute when I heard someone in the kitchen...or thought I had. I went out to look, but no one was there so I decided it was probably the ice maker dropping ice cubes is what I heard.
About 15 minutes later, we went back to the kitchen to fix lunch. I had her sitting on a kitchen stool next to the counter while I made her a little sandwich. We both heard the front door open up and then shut. Although, she was about 18 months old and didn’t speak well, I know she heard it, too, because she turned completely around in the chair and looked in that direction.
After the door shut, we heard the footsteps as they walked past the TV and came toward us. Both of us watched and waited for someone to round the corner. I was hoping my husband was told not to come to work after all and was returning.
When no one came around the corner, I called out and said, “We’re in here.”
Still, no response. I got my granddaughter down from the stool and both of us walked to the living room to see who it was. She was just as curious as I was, so I’m even further convinced that she heard the front door open and someone walk in front of the TV and then toward where we were in the kitchen.
Later, I recounted the events to my daughter and asked if she had any experiences. I know as a child she exhibited “abilities,” that could not be explained.
“Mom, I don’t want to talk about it,” she said with a shudder. “Let’s just say there’s been plenty of times when I’ve been up late, by myself reading, and had an over-powering sensation that someone was standing close by watching me read. When I look up, expecting to see my husband, no one is standing there.”
Remembering my daughter telling me about how the baby doesn’t like to sleep in her room, I asked, “Okay, how about the times you say the baby wakes up in the middle of the night crying...do you look at the baby cam to see if something is waking her up and making her cry?”
“Yes, but there’s nothing there,” she answered. “I still just put her in the bed with us, though.”
The other day, I was over babysitting again. I understood what my daughter meant about being watched. While my granddaughter and I were in her room playing, I had an over-powering sensation that someone was standing close by watching us play. Apparently, so did my granddaughter. She abruptly stopped playing and went out into the living room. I haven’t told her mother about it, yet. She doesn’t like to talk about those kinds of things.