Wheelchair Bound. My Night with the Flying Mouse

Some aspects of life are very peculiar when you are newly wheelchair bound. One of the most striking differences is an inability to deal with strange noises. My life is usually fairly full of strange noises - which I can choose or not choose to investigate. But being reliant on a wheelchair renders your ability to deal with 'noises' as very limited; you can't just follow the source of the noise to ascertain whether or not any further action is required.

And since I have been wheelchair bound there has been a lot of what I can only assume to be poltergeistic activity around here too and things, particularly in my office seem to regularly take to flying in the night. Over the years I've become fairly used to not becoming alarmed by such things.

The other night I spent the night with what I can only call 'my flying mouse'. It would appear in my peripheral vision and haul itself at high speed against the windows and walls before falling into the dark abyss of those things I can no longer see under where, presumably because of the sheer effort required for such acrobatic pursuits it was exhausted. When it moved it moved itself so quickly and so suddenly that I never got to get a really good look at it. And being wheelchair bound I had to choose to ignore it for it would be impossible to search it out or investigate those places it kept seeming to prefer to inhabit during the interludes that it took between deciding to hurl itself, once again at high speed onto another wall or window for a brief respite from whatever it was doing.

The most obvious other option available to me at the time would have been to call my daughter on the intercom; but she was most likely asleep with her small baby. And besides she is very phobic about such matters. I therefore decided that there was no other viable option than to go to sleep and cease any concern. Perhaps my 'flying mouse' was, after all a visiting nagual with an important spiritual message to deliver.

Watching Boston Legal soon distracted me from my strange visitor and soon enough I was asleep. In the morning I had completely forgotten about the flying mouse.

Yesterday my daughter found the flying mouse; it was, as she put it, "the largest grasshopper ever seen". And today as she made our lunch she spied it near the oven; that was the end of lunch. I then had to spend a fairly long time, wheelchair bound and armed with a straw broom persuading my mysterious visiting nagual to peacefully leave the premises.

P.S. Last night I think our premises were visited by a flying dinosaur bird. There was an almighty noise that my son in law went out to investigate. He found no evidence. My daughter described the noise as, "a loud crash into the carport that was immediately followed by flapping wings". From how she relayed this I can surmise that the flapping sound was about eighty decibels loud. What might visit us next? And what evidence might be found to support this visitation in the brighter light of day?

Keep posted.