The Ghost Who Hated Christmas

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Well, it may be that we now have a visitor in our apartment. And not the kind with skin, but otherwise. It’s not unusual for me to find occasionally a disembodied presence hanging around for a few days (I work with the “other side” for a living, so it’s not that surprising), but I haven’t had a visitor in a long time. Cyprus hates when we have a haunting, so I tend to suppress my sense of invitation and curiosity a great deal. Even if I do notice a presence, I rarely mention it to anyone because for one thing, it just makes me sound loony, and for another, it does nothing to announce it. The paranormal things that happen in my life are not for novelty or for attention, so I keep most experiences to myself.

After our last Michael Speaks (a channeling session) we started talking about the concepts of ghosts and hauntings, which led to some people asking me about my own experiences and understanding of that phenomenon. I was open and discussed my experiences, my theories, and Michael’s insight. I knew as I was discussing it that the discussion was also freeing up suppressive energies I keep in place to hinder any paranormal experiences because of Cyprus’ fears. I felt that I had kept it in check, though.

Last night, I came home from reviewing a band and our little Christmas Tree was knocked over. I didn’t think much about it because we have animals and who knows, one of them could have somehow knocked it over. The tree is about a 3-foot silver tree all rigged up and cutely lit in our bay window behind a curved couch. It is not in a place that would be easy for our dogs to get, and our cat is so near death (she is very, very old and does not do anything wild or playful) that she really could only knock it over, but with a lot of effort. Still, it was easy to chalk up to the cat, and although I was annoyed, nothing else occurred to me. I set the tree back in place with some effort and went to bed.

…and had a dream:

I dreamt that I got up the next morning and the tree was seriously smashed up. It’s limbs were all mangled, the balls strewn everywhere, and the tree pushed forcefully down between the couch and the windows. I don’t know who was with me, but we were all annoyed and asking how that could possibly have happened. As I stood there looking at all of this, I noticed the fluffiness of our green floor rug after a good vacuuming. Right at the edge of the rug, pressed prominently in the fibers, was a small child’s footprint. I said slowly, “oh my god, look at thisss…”

…and I woke up this morning.

I thought how creepy the dream was, climbed out of bed, went into the living room, and there was our Christmas Tree in shambles, smashed and bent, pressed between the windows and the couch, with Christmas balls strewn everywhere. There was no sign of a footprint in the rug like in my dream, but I distinctly felt scared. I am sure it was because of the dream, but what I can’t figure out is why I would dream that and how synchronistic it was with the progressive destruction of the tree!

It took me nearly 2 hours to get the tree back in shape. It’s still a bit out of whack! For one thing, I know it was not my dog, because she was shut in my room with me all night. I really don’t think the cat did this because she never does and because it would be a huge amount of effort on her part to do the multiple things done to the tree. I don’t think it is my room mate’s dog because he was in bed with Cyprus the first time the tree fell, which happened BEFORE I got home (according to Cyprus). It startled her, but it had only slightly leaned sharply enough to scare my dog and she had arisen and fixed the tree, which I just found out about tonight. That means the tree has been altered on at least 3 occasions, progressively worse and more violently.

Furthermore, tonight Spyder (my dog) was in her bed and yelped, jumping up and running into the living room. A bit later she cautiously went back to the bedroom doorway and gingerly sniffed the floor, then flinched and leaped back from the doorway, running up onto the couch. Now, first of all, Spyder does not yelp or flinch or act skittish in any way. Something was tangibly affecting her, but I don’t know what it was. I checked her bed for a bug of some sort, because I like to go the logical route, first, but I couldn’t find anything. Who knows… but in synchronicity to these other events, now I am concerned.

And this time, I can’t see a thing. I don’t see a ghost anywhere. I don’t know what this is…

But I have a few plans to find out!

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