Concept of Time

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“Spirits have no concept of time”, said the medium I saw yesterday. It was a very interesting experience. I have to admit at the beginning I was very skeptical, and didn’t know if I could trust a woman who would take your money in exchange for sharing her “gift” she claimed to have. That being said, I was also curious to what she might predict.

I’ve always been a believer in ghosts and spirits. As a young girl of 7 my family and I moved to a house near the mountains where I had a lot of eerie experiences and encounters with things not of this world. The moment we moved in you could feel that something wasn’t right. (The fist holes in the wall covered with painted paper plates should have been the first sign of serious negative energy confined in the house.) The hair on your neck would always stand up, and you constantly felt as if you were being watched. The moment my mother turned out my lights at night my curtains would form themselves into demonic faces, and I would stare at them until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. Then my sleep would be filled with nightmare upon nightmare and I never realized how truly morbid and graphic they were for such a young girl until I recalled them again at an older age. Dreams that a man with red eyes would come out of the garage and kill each member of my family, leaving me for last. Dreams where my father was barbequing the neighbors for dinner. Dreams where my brother would be torturing our entire family on spikes in the basement.

The basement was the worst part. It wasn’t completed like the rest of the house, so the floors were still cemented, and the wooden pillars that held up the rest of the house were bare. The moment you walked down the stairs (always with the lights on, I could never bring myself to go down the stairs into the pitch black) you were greeted with intense cold, odors and a pillar with the letters H-E-L-P deeply carved into it. That was where my nightmares constantly took me. To the dark and eerie basement. Come to think of it, every single nightmare I had living in that house, took place in that house. Not a good sign I don’t think.

After waking up in a cold sweat at 3:15am every morning (supposedly this is the time when all spirits are most active. “The Witching Hour.” There are millions of theories, stories, scenarios where people experience most spiritual activity at this time. Take the house of Amityville, for example.) I would stare through my dark room at the light pouring in from underneath my door and I would make sure there wasn’t going to be any type of dark figure standing behind the wooden block. After I finally got up the courage to open the door to the world unknown outside of it I would walk into the middle of the hall and in a very “The Shining” type of way I would stare down the hallway into the dark abyss. When the staring was done (I never really knew how long I would stand there each night, but I remember one morning the sun started coming up and birds started chirping. Needless to say, I had been standing there for hours.) I would run as fast as I could to my parents room and crawl into bed with them. But I didn’t feel safe with them either, I would look up to their ceiling and see floating heads with horrific faces staring back at me. Almost as if each had been beheaded. The lasting looks of fear and pain before the head left their bodies.

The house never felt right, and I saw and felt wicked things there. After we moved, I thought that I was away from the negative feelings but it never quite stopped there. There were instances when I felt things, when objects would move on their own. One night when I was at a friend’s house in college (Megan and Sam, you’ll remember this one) a door that was locked simply unlocked itself and flung open, and other times you could feel someone pushing past you in the stairwell, or hear footsteps rushing up behind you. And when a friend’s stepfather passed away there were pictures where he was found that had weird shadowy faces on them resembling the man, glasses and all. I’ve always felt I was susceptible to these energies.

Speaking of the man with glasses, his name was Trey and the medium I saw yesterday was very sure it was him speaking to me. She described him with a “T” name, someone who died in a very unexpected way due to alcohol. I knew it was him right away. He told me all different kinds of things. That I shouldn’t be scared to move, that going back to school is a good thing, that I shouldn’t blame myself for the hurt that his son caused me, that my family was relieved when I left him behind. This medium relayed all of these things to me without me muttering a single word to her about my past, present or future. I must admit that what she said was accurate, as skeptical as I was, but then again why wouldn’t it be? Why did I have such a hard time believing that someone could actually connect with that world when I felt and experienced so many things on my own? I supposed I just never thought it could be so clear and straight forward, but if she was telling me the truth about these things (which I don’t know how she would know any of the information she relayed to me otherwise) how could I not trust her?

She made me really question the idea of reality. Supposedly there have been things relayed to her about this other dimension. That there’s not really a heaven or hell, but that every spirit is there in this thin layered dimension on top of ours. The murderers, the cheats, the religious, the just. Everyone is there. I found this very interesting. So many people spend their whole life trying to be this perfect image for a God or holy being, and after all of that could you imagine just joining the serial killers on the other side? I don’t know if I believed that or not but why would she be lying? She also said that trees and plants look like that of Avatar…the movie Avatar…Yeah I don’t know guys. It’s all what you want to believe is true or not I suppose. All I know is I studied medium work after seeing the photographs of blurred and shadowy Trey, and the lady had the same ideas and thoughts as the ones I read about.

I do believe that the layers of reality and spirit are thin, and that spirits watch over us all the time and are constantly trying to communicate. That has to be the case as energy cannot be destroyed. And we, my dear readers, are full of energy. Otherwise how could I begin to explain the odd and bizarre things that happened to me as a young girl and young adult? How could my blood run cold like that in pure fear? I don’t believe in heaven or hell. I don’t believe in God. I don’t need to pray in order to be at peace with the decisions I make. I don’t need help solving problems that I’ve created. I do believe that once I die I’ll be right there living, just in a step away from reality. A step away from breathing into this blurred world that sits on top of the one we live now. People can think my idea of the spirit world is crazy, but so is a whale that swallows a man for days only to spit him out when he decides to be submissive to God…So, I think I’ll stick with my split dimension story. Sorry to offend.

So as skeptical as I was with this woman, she had a lot of insane accuracy to things that have happened or will happen in my life. Things that she couldn’t have known. And maybe she wasn’t speaking to Trey, or even saw or felt any spirit for that matter, but I must say that she made me really believe that spirits are right here walking beside us. She reminded me of all of the things I’ve experienced myself and they all came rushing back to me. The memories slapped me in the face, and I have to say I got a little emotional about it. I almost forgot all of those things that I grew up experiencing. So many people I’ve told about the medium and the things I grew up with just roll their eyes at me and tell me I only believed it because I’m a sucker, but I don’t think I would be convinced that easily had it not gone any other way. I’m a sucker for believing there’s some truth in the idea of energies affecting and manipulating the world around us.

In the presence of a medium the concept of time is meaningless, and the spirits will speak. But…maybe I’m just crazy.


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One thought on “Concept of Time

  1. Hi Charlotte. I was positive I saw you walking down a sidewalk yesterday in Venice as I drove by.
    After seeing you (or not) i was going to send you a message on IG but saw you are private and then stumbled onto you blog. I enjoyed reading your posts.

    I know you have mixed feelings about the time you spent in LA , which I def understand, but I’m glad I was able to meet you.

    Anyway, Just thought I’d say hi and I hope you are well.


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