I love it when people tell me interesting ghost stories. I also love it when people share their paranormal experiences with me. I especially love it when people write to me with a story of the paranormal that is engaging and interesting. Ms. Camiele White wrote to me with just such a story recently.
There is a space in the darkness of a room that can’t be accessed through the physical. Your body is afloat in time-space, your eyes shut. There’s a definite still that keeps you accessible to those things that you deny or from which you’ve closed yourself off and it’s in that still that the trembling of voices between air creep into your psyche.
Since I was a child there were moments between wake and dream that kept me from getting a good night’s rest when the lights were off. No, I’m not afraid of the dark, but I do have those moments when I’m completely torn from night thoughts and am forced to watch the silent pictures on my television screen until the soft lull of the moving images rock me back to sleep.
Okay, enough with the poetry. The truth of the matter is I’m 24 years old and I’m terrified to shut my eyes at night. Yes, I’ve had a keen intuition when it comes to what some have simply dismissed as the wind. I know that it may seem somewhat childish, but when you’re most vulnerable, most perceptive to the spirits around you, you tend to hear things. I call them “Night Whispers”. They’re phenomena that seep into moments when you’re completely quiet. The understanding is that if a ghost wants to communicate it will do so physically, manifesting as an apparition, a drop in temperature, or even alleged specks of dust. What I’m made to believe is that the only real way that spirits have been known to be actually heard is through technology, manifested through television snow as the phenomenon known as white noise or through the interstitial spaces of sound in older video recordings (if that’s inaccurate, by the way, I’m not above being corrected). However, I’ve been shaken awake by the soft voices of a woman who both knows my name and has become very intimate with me.
I’ve not spoken to her, in fact I can’t even prove that she exists except when I’m drifting right between those minuscule seconds that separate consciousness and dreaming. But, I do know her moods very well. When she wants to caress me and ease my thundering nightmares, she softly says my name, “Camiele”, like a mother’s song. However, there have been moments when, for whatever reason, she was sincerely displeased with me when she’s lashed out at my thoughts and screeched my name, scratching it like a slither into my dreams and bringing me to an unbreathing wakefulness. This woman has no name as far as I know; she has not taken any physical form or tried to harm me in any way. However, her intimate knowledge of what soothes me in sleep or what frightens me to death is jarring.
I know I have no right to assume I know more than anyone who heralds himself as an expert on the issue of paranormal life or spiritual activity. I’m not even saying that I have ruled out the possibility that such whisperings are nothing more than a figment of my imagination; however, I know what her voice does to me. When she whispers to me at night, I’m always jarred awake freezing cold. She’s a sweetheart and a savage. She can be a mother or an angry babysitter. It’s only in those dark moments of quiet do I ever notice her existence. Has anyone ever experienced anything like this?
Article writer by day, renegade poet by night, Camiele White loves any and everything film. She chases only the original (or incredibly funny) and has been known to talk for hours about subjects that most people just don’t care about. Right now, she gets her jabberjaw jollies at http://www.starcostumes.com/%22%3EHalloween
StarCostumes.com. If you want to give her a buzz, she can be reached at cmlewhite at gmail.com.