G is for Ghost

When I was about 12 or 13, I remember being fascinated with reading books on UFOs, Bigfoot, ghosts, ESP, the supernatural. I grew up in the town of Mt. Shasta. Some consider the mountain to be one of the spirtual wonders of the world. I grew up with people flooding into town to witness the Harmonic Convergence and heard stories at the knee of native Americans about how the mountain was made and stories of Bigfoot.

My husband likes watching ghost hunter shows on television. His favorite is Ghost Adventure with Zak Bagans. I watch with him spending much ot the time trying to talk Billie out of going down in the basement to explore by himself.

My daughter asks me if I believe in ghosts. I haven’t seen a ghost but I have had things happen that I can’t logically explain.

In my senior year of college, I rented a decrepit bungalow with three of my friends in Ashland, Oregon just a few blocks away from the Shakespearean Theater. We gave that house the nickname The Vortex. Probably a by product of our over active beer soaked imaginations, but we would often come home to the house and furniture would be moved out of place, doors would be open that we were sure we had left closed. One day we counted the number of doors in that house. Imagine how surprised we were to find it had 13.

When Liz was a baby, we swear we could hear singing over her baby monitor.

Ghost? Maybe, maybe not?

Have you had a ghost experience?

 

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