I grew up watching ghost stories like a lot of people, and they frightened me. When people would start telling of their experiences with ghosts, I would usually leave the room because the idea of seeing or feeling a spirit was too much for me. Over the years, I have been poked in the back, I have had lights cut on around me. Then I’ve had my hair stroked and still do. Usually, I would find some way to explain it away, but my experience back in 1992 was something I could not ignore.
I was living in Zurich, Switzerland. My husband was a painter and we sold photos of his paintings as cards. Soon, I got my own business selling Wiccan supplies I imported from America. I sold velvet bags, silver amulets, incense, ritual oils, and ceramic wizards and dragons.
One of the items I sold was a black mirror, made only during the full moon. The night before my debut market, I set up my stand inside our apartment to arrange everything on my table. I used the black mirror as my centerpiece and it was beautiful. It was by then very late, so I left everything set up and went to bed. What I didn’t understand about the black mirror at the time was it needed to be kept wrapped up in its pouch. But who reads instructions? Uh, I don’t. I do now, but back then, I didn’t. Okay, sometimes I still don’t. But don’t tell anyone. Shhhhhh.
We lived in an old apartment complete with old hardwood floors. So there’s no way you can sneak in there without being heard. Around 3 a.m. I woke up to footsteps coming from the room where my market stand was set up. I thought it was a dream at first, but then my husband woke up and asked me if I heard footsteps. Yeah, I heard. We both sat up in bed and sure enough, there were footsteps walking through the bedroom. It continued on through the middle room and into my husband’s atelier, where he painted. Papers rustled and then it stopped.
My husband sat up. “You’ve been playing around with that witchcraft *#$@ again and I’m gonna take it all and throw it out in the street!”
Like most men who suffer something disturbing, he put it out of his mind and went back to sleep. I, on the other hand, lay awake all night shivering under my covers. And that’s the way I was for about three months.
During this time strange things happened in my house. I would walk into a room and find cupboards open, one time a bunch of my kitchen utensils fell down onto my stove, still heard footsteps and the scariest of all, while my friend was visiting, my front door opened with the deadbolt still on it. The doorknob on our front door was broken and the only way you can get the door to stay closed was to lock it using the deadbolt.
Other than this, I did get my business going and it was a hit. One day, I met three gentlemen who were practicing shaman. One of them was a Yaqui Indian from Mexico who followed the teachings of Carlos Castaneda. I know some people dispute Castaneda’s teachings as all fiction, but after having read Castaneda’s books and from the many spiritual experiences I had, this guy was on the level as were his two friends, a Swiss gentlemen and a Dutch man who read my palm. So far, most of what he told me has come true. They had just returned from India, having performed a puja ceremony. We developed a friendship and I confided in them about my spirit. They came to my house and did a “cleansing and a blessing” on my spirit friend. They told me he wasn’t a bad spirit, but he had suffered some “emotional” issues which were keeping him mired to this plane. After the ritual, my spirit was fairly quiet.
Shortly after, my ex and I had a fight and he left to go to his martial arts class. I lay there on the bed crying. I “felt” the ghost enter the room, by that time I had become sort of used to him. The bed weighted down beside me and my hair was being stroked. This didn’t frighten me and it felt good. I was still angry with my ex and I was happy to pour out my heart to anyone at that point. So I lay there crying and talking about my woes while this spirit stroked my hair. Since he was being so kind to me and I didn’t feel any negative energy in him, I explained to him he couldn’t scare me any more with leaving cupboards open, knocking things down, doors opening by themselves and walking around at night. For the first time in a long time, I was able to sleep good through the night and every night thereafter.
The ghost honored my wishes and did none of these things again. But his presence felt more brilliant and my senses prickled sometimes before he even entered the room. At times, I could see iridescent colors in the dark when he was near. I stopped sleeping with my husband and slept in the other room just so I could talk to my new “friend.” Who knew a ghosty could be someone worth confiding in. I never found out any details about him, but I got a psychic reading and to my surprise the psychic picked up on him. She stated there was a painting in my bedroom and a spirit in the house was fascinated by it. He would spend hours sitting and staring at it. I told her my ex painted the picture. She told me to never leave him without the painting and to keep it with me always. I asked her if he would be leaving any time soon and she intimated to me he was staying there because of me.
My relationship with my ex had been poor for a few years and I believe my ghost friend helped me sort out my feelings and give me the strength to get out of my relationship. My ex isn’t a bad guy and we have since made up and are friends now. Three months later, I wound up leaving him and I took the painting with me where it still hangs over my fireplace.
I didn’t “feel” my spirit friend again after I moved back to Los Angeles, but I am thankful to him for listening to me and for comforting me when I needed it the most. I hope he was able to find some peace.
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