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Group One
Apparition Hallway
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Apparition Library
Thu, 28 Jul 2016
Mood:  happy

Posted by adessa at 14:00 EDT
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Fri, 26 Sep 2014
Spirit in the Woods

For 12 years our Australian Shepherd has ‘escorted’ the herds of deer from our yard into the woods between our house and our neighbor’s house. The neighbor’s family includes a rowdy reckless young man who for years sped up and down the streets on an assortment of ATV’s, dirt bikes, and ‘Crotch-Rockets’. Usually riding without his hands or standing on the seat thru the winding narrow hilly country roads. One morning a Venison Surprise ran in front of his bike’s 85 mile-an-hour ride and at 6:15 am they both lie dead. At 5 pm that evening a family of 7 deer entered the yard for their nightly run to the woods, 3 doe’s and 4 yearlings and our dog in tow. When they reached the edge of the woods they all stopped suddenly. They stood still as statues afraid to go into the woods. Our dog stopped too. Nobody moved. I felt an eerie cold breeze from the woods and I knew the neighbor’s son was in there. The deer never entered the woods that night, they bedded where they stood, and the dog came in the house and wasn’t interested in the chase game that evening.



Posted by adessa at 00:01 EDT
Updated: Sat, 6 Oct 2018 13:35 EDT
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Tue, 8 Oct 2013
The Cemetery
It might seem strange but I liked cemeteries.  There everything is calm and quiet.  The people who come there aren't drawn to the noise of the living but the quiet of the dead.  In every town, in every city, cemeteries are there as havens of peace and motionless tranquility.  But once, I faced a night in a cemetery.  I entered in the evening and sat upon a bench before drifting to sleep.  I woke in darkness.  Panicked, I wanted to leave, but the caretaker had already locked the gates.  At night the peace one may find in the warm light of day vanishes.  The slightest sound induces panic, gravestones seem to move and the blowing wind sounds like howling moans.  My heart barely survived the night and I have never forgotten the terror I felt.  When I staggered out of the gates in the morning I heard the caretaker yell after me:  You look pale as a ghost!  Spend too much time with the dead and you'll join them!

Posted by adessa at 00:01 EDT
Updated: Wed, 4 Dec 2013 20:05 EST
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Tue, 17 Sep 2013
Another Life Revealed
I was standing on a stone road looking down past my white cotton dress to my black button-up shoes, then glancing at my small hands. I was all of 3 years old. Straight ahead was a worn white picket gate spanning an entrance in a stone fence that was as high as I was tall. I looked through the gate to the home that I knew was where I lived. It was cottage in its appearance with a thatched roof. A small wooden room built off to the left with the stove pipe I knew was the kitchen. An aroma of soda bread baking filled the air. “Sarah” came a call and I reached for the hand of my father. A tall slender man with dark trousers and a tweed cap. We walked together toward town on the cobble stone road. A man coming the other way stopped and spoke to my father on the bridge we were crossing. My hand slipped from father’s hand and I wandered a few steps over to the edge of the bridge which was large white barn stones. As I looked over the edge toward the water I fell forward. I vividly saw the brick structure of the bridge as I plummeted head first into the river. That is the end of the dream every time. I assume I perished in the fall.

Posted by adessa at 00:01 EDT
Updated: Wed, 4 Dec 2013 20:03 EST
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Sun, 26 Aug 2012
The house that Ralph Built
Whenever I dream of family the dream is centered around the home my father built by hand. I only lived there 12 years of my life, but my mind goes there as my home. All the other places I've lived could only be categorized as shelters. Last night's dream took me up the driveway in tears. Someone had bought the house and was turning it into a store. I toured the rooms remembering as we got older helping father put on additions to the home. I liked block work and framing, but didn't fancy the roofing at all. A family belonged in this home. I hope someone would purchase it in the future and restore it to a family home.

Posted by adessa at 00:01 EDT
Updated: Sun, 25 Jan 2015 15:47 EST
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Tue, 3 Jul 2012
For the past 5 weeks someone has been calling my name in my home.  My birth name, a name Tim calls occassionally and my father used to always call me and he passed away 7 years ago.  The first 3 weeks it was every 2 or 3 days.  I'd be anywhere in the house and hear my name.  I'd hunt down Tim and ask what he had wanted.  He said he didn't call me.  I told him I hear the man's voice calling my name again.  Two weeks ago it was every night.  It would wake me out of a sound sleep.  I'd get up and the room would be dead still.  Everyone in the house was sleeping.  Last week I woke up at 4 a.m. to process the produce from the first harvest of the garden.  Tomatoes, Green Beans and my favorite Sweet/Hot Pickles.  By 1 pm I was heading to make the bed.  Tim was napping on the couch.  When I got in the bedroom I saw no harm in lying down for a half hour.  I was exhausted.  Twenty minutes later my name was being called again.  It sounded like it was coming from outside.  Tim must have thought I'd gone back up to the garden and was calling me.  I got up and followed the sound of the voice, Adessa; Adessa;  Dess; Dess.  It was louder by the stairs and I called down, Tim I'm upstairs.  But looking in the living room he was still sound asleep on the couch.  I went and woke him up.  There was a chill in the room.  Who was calling me?

Posted by adessa at 00:01 EDT
Updated: Sun, 25 Jan 2015 15:48 EST
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Fri, 23 Mar 2012
Room 312

Posted by adessa at 00:01 EDT
Updated: Fri, 11 Oct 2013 08:14 EDT
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Thu, 7 Jul 2011
Time will Tell

Posted by adessa at 12:57 EDT
Updated: Mon, 31 Oct 2011 18:42 EDT
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Thu, 21 Apr 2011
Heat pattern Abandoned Home with Baby in Window

Posted by adessa at 00:01 EDT
Updated: Fri, 11 Oct 2013 08:14 EDT
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Wed, 20 Apr 2011
Ghost Baby in the Window of Vacant Home

Posted by adessa at 00:01 EDT
Updated: Fri, 11 Oct 2013 08:15 EDT
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