My niece had
a most unusual experience several years ago.
“Melody” and a
guy friend were driving down an old back road that happened to have a pauper’s
cemetery along it. It was on an Easter night, and the rain was coming down in
torrents; so hard they could barely make out the road before them.
Suddenly, off
to one side of the road, Melody, (the passenger), spotted something eerily
different from anything she’d ever seen. For she found herself looking at a
ghostly figure of a woman, luminous, and floating in mid-air. Her features were
contorted, since her head seemed to be laying out on one shoulder. Her entire
body was visible, except she lacked legs.
My niece was
absolutely amazed, fearful, anxious, and perhaps a few other conflicting
emotions. She screamed, “Mike, did you see that?” To which the young man
responded, “See what?”
Melody insisted
they turn around. Against his better inclinations, the fellow turned the car
around, and went back. This time they both witnessed the ghastly figure. It was
the same as before, except the apparition had assumed a slightly different
pose. Her head drooped upon her chest.
Mike and Melody
must have been “gluttons for punishment” because they turned around once more,
and went back a final time. Again, the terrible figure was clearly visible,
though the rain was falling even harder now.
Melody’s voice
still trembles as she describes the event. Her eyes seem to grow wild and wide,
and she shakes her head from side to side. Listening to her, I find I have very
little trouble believing her words.
She recited the
memory to me in February of this year, and I suggested we drive down the same
road on Easter night. Though it’s been over a decade, the experience resides
deep in her spirit, and she jumped at the opportunity to prove herself.
Well, reader,
we took that short journey, and we saw… absolutely nothing.
Of course,
Melody was disappointed, but I encouraged her that I believed her account of
that rainy night. Of course, she appreciated my opinion of her veracity, but I
could tell; it just wasn’t the same.
It so happened
that I began counseling a new couple a few weeks later. “Jim” is a retired
highway patrolman, and “Debra” is a deputy sheriff. Since they happened to be
from the little town of Homeland, on a whim I thought I’d ask them about my
niece’s experience. Their answers surprised me.
Debra
responded, “Yes, I’ve heard a few tales of ghosts on the road.”
And Jim was much more specific. “Bill, I’ve investigated
several accidents on that old road. It seems drivers have run into the ditch
trying to avoid a person standing in the middle of the road. As I understand
it, a couple of drivers have, seemingly, ran right over a woman. After they
have climbed out of their cars, there was no one to be seen.”
Of course, I
shared the patrolman’s words with Melody, and she felt so affirmed hearing his
account.
Now, I don’t
know what I believe about the presence of literal ghosts, but I’m sure we’re
all haunted by the ghosts of our pasts.
As a counselor, when I interview
new clients, I always ask them to describe their childhood and adolescence.
Believe me, I’ve heard some pretty bizarre tales. And so like a soldier that
goes to war, we cannot escape those intense experiences; that linger like
ghosts in the fading recesses of our pasts.
I consider my
own Past to be very nominal, very common and well within “the margins.” But I
have had the opportunity, recently, to both recover, and address various
childhood memories. And so like “ghosts on the highway,” I’ve encountered them.
I encourage
such “ghostly encounters.”
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