Do Spirits Exist Among Us?

Recently I heard that 1 in 4 people have seen a ghost. One in four, that is a lot. With all of us being only six people removed from knowing everyone, shouldn't we all either have seen a ghost or trust the person close to us that says they have? Statistics are made to generally accomplish a goal. I have no idea what a goal would be for this particular ghost statistic, but I can't help but be curious by it.

I have never seen a ghost. Although, there are people in my life, better yet, there were people in my life, that I wish would send me back a message or proof of more. Of course, I am not totally sure that I would be receptive to the message. My gut says I would turn tail and run the other way. The whole time praying for control of my bodily functions.

Yet, things have happened in my life that are unexplainable. Things that have caused me to question the existence of ghosts, spirits or angels in my world. I doubt they would lump me in the 1 in 4, but to me, my events were powerful enough to make me question. It may be the Halloween season, but for some reason I am feeling a great need and desire to share my story. Let me first say, I never lost a close family member or friend until about 3 years ago. That is huge, considering I am currently 38 years old. I don't know many that lived this long without a funeral of someone close. This said, I have no idea whom could be with me.

When I was young, and I'm talking 4 or 5, I have my first memory of not being alone. Most times, logic leads me to believe that a wild young imagination is more accurate than a spiritual encounter. Yet, over the years the memory stays with me as clear as day. I still feel the goose bumps grow on my arms when I sit quietly and remember this time so long ago.

My parents divorced when I was 4. My dad left, as most fathers do, leaving my mother, brother and I in our home. It was a volatile time. I don't remember many days without tears, fear and anxiety. I remember even then, feeling my heart race in my chest. I was young and I was scared and I didn't understand why. Today, I can rationalize that my parents fears and sadness were projected into me. Much like an animal can sense your fear, so can a child.

After we found ourselves alone, my brother and I would often sleep in my moms room. I think we were all just looking for the safety in numbers. Living in a home of verbal bashing, my brother and I took part in this "game" together. It is generally called sibling rivalry, but at this age, I think it was more following the lead of the adults in our home. One night, my brother started in on me. I was and sometimes still am, a sensitive soul. And with a younger mind, unable to play the words game. Opting instead to leave the presence of the opposition and go to the safety of being alone. I left our community bedroom and returned to my own bed down the hall.

The head of my bed, was not up against the wall, but because of the closet, in an "open" position. I climbed in my bed and even today, I can recall the huge amount of sadness that overcame me. I cried as silently as I could. I knew my mom would be mad if I woke her. She just wasn't happy ever. I was 4 and I was miserable.

Then something happened. I'm awake. I'm crying to myself. I am so sad. And then I feel a hand touch my head. I am instantly frozen. Including the tears. I find myself holding my breath. I hear words in my head and I have no idea where they came from. They weren't scary words, just calming words. I hear "don't worry, it will be okay." Then almost as quickly as it happened it is over. No touch, no words, nothing.

I lay in my bed, terrified. Like most little kids, I find myself holding my breath. Listening with such strain. Afraid of who is there. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I wanted to run to my mothers room, but I couldn't. I laid there frozen for a long time. Developing a plan of how I could very fast, jump off my bed - ensuring if someone was under there they wouldn't pull me under, and run for help. I wanted to scream so bad, I tried and nothing but squeaky air came out.

After what seemed like hours, though more realistically minutes, I finally got the courage and jumped. As far as I could away from the bed. No easy task when you consider it began from the lay down position. I ran at warped speeds to my mothers room and jumped into her bed. I tried to tell her there was someone in the house. She was just so tired she didn't even check. She only told me I was wrong and went back to sleep. I ended up, not sleeping but rolling over to position my sights on the bedroom door to make sure no one followed me. It was a long night.

Many years go past, yet the memory is strong. I remember the feel of my bed, the touch on my head, the voice in my mind, the fear in my chest and the carpet on my feet. And yet, I seem to move forward for years without any thing to confirm or deny what happened. Until I was 16. A full 12 years later.

I am introduced to a fortune teller at 16. One that is from Haiti. This is not a paid "seer" but actually a family member of a friend, that came to our country to visit. All of us in the "younger" group of the gathering are just excited about the prospects of learning the future. We line up to be read. I was too nervous to go first and waited patiently for my turn.

When my turn arrives, I am both excited and nervous. The reader first tells me "a true seer can see the past as clearly as the future. Only believe the one you can verify the past with." Okay, I file that knowledge, although it sure did take some future fun out of fortune tellers. She asks if I would prefer my head or my hand read. I opt for my hand, it just makes me more comfortable.

Then she proceeds to tell me of an event. At first I am confused, thinking it is my future. Then like a ton of bricks, I see the picture unfold. She is speaking of my past. An event that happened when I was 13 that rocked my world and what I thought of it. An event, that no one knew about. Only my father and I. I did not tell anyone. Not even my best friend, sitting next to me at that time.

My heart begins racing. I have this desire to end this and run as fast as I can as far away as I can. I am quickly deciding I don't want to know the future. Her once gentle grip on my hand is steadily getting stronger and tighter. She isn't letting me pull away. She tells me a lot. I hear it, but feel dazed. I'm focusing on my thoughts of fleeing and their growing more powerful by the second. It's like being trapped in horror movie. I can't breath.

She is talking and talking and out of no where the words change. She is no longer speaking my language. I can't feel my fingers. All of a sudden, I am free. I look up and her husband has pulled her away from me. Yet, her eyes are stuck on me. She is staring at me and I hear "you should never be read. You have many spirits around you. I've never seen so many."

I gathered my stuff and left in a flash, terrified by what happened. I can't explain it, only that it was nothing like others had experienced that night. And has left me believing that maybe my 4 year old experience was real. Maybe there is someone with me. Helping me, guiding me. Some that she predicted has come true, yet some events she spoke of will not be revealed until my 60's. I never speak of her predictions and for a long time tried to forget them. Not that they were bad, but something tells me, I shouldn't know.

Not 2 years later I'm driving down the road in rush hour traffic, in a Chicago Suburb. My life is not on an upward swing. I am making poor choices and bad decisions like they are going out of style. My parents, never really grasped the parenting thing and neither are involved in my life. I am living on my own and scared of the world in general. I was on my way to yet another bad decision, when on a perfectly clear day, for no reason at all, I lose control of my car. It happened so fast. I wasn't intoxicated or using drugs, I am not of that mindset at all. There are cars in every lane, I am surrounded in the inside lane. My car spins.

I found myself praying in that instant. No, I didn't go to church regularly. My parents were both absent and this wasn't even available to me. Yet, I am praying to this God, I don't know. Sure that I am dead. This is the moment, that life is over and I find the truth. Sadly, I wasn't totally opposed to death at the time, but I wasn't looking for it with open arms either.

I see all these cars, a blur in the spin. I know I am going to hit one. Yet, it never happens. It is as though, someone picked my car up, gave it a spin and set it back down in the direction I was going, in the lane I was in. No accident. No hurting another. No death for me. Again, I hear a voice, but this time I don't understand it. Yet, I get the feeling it is saying "no, not yet."

As I get older, I seem to experience more things that can not be explained. Are they spirits? I don't know. Are they ghosts? I don't think so. Is it my own sub conscience protecting me? Again I can only guess.

I would love to think that I'm not alone in my journey through life. Yet, unlike the 1 in 4, I have never seen my travel companion. I doubt the events, until the moment of the next one. When one is fresh to me, they all come back alive. I feel it. Like a big bear hug, surrounding me. A part of me wants to believe and another is too afraid to believe.

I've waited to find another with experiences like mine. Not an easy task, when you consider, I don't even share my events with another. I suspect, crazy would be added to my name if I did.