It occurs to me recently, why I prefer Sci-Fi over many a thing. I’m a huge movie junkie, but I’ve always leaned more toward sci-fi/sci-fi Horror over any other; I can sleep easier after watching them.
If I watch something, oh, like An American Haunting, I’m not gonna sleep so well. Why you may ask? Plainly put, I’ve experienced hauntings. Not of the uber negative, poltergeisty variety (knock on wood), but enough that I believe in it all. I believe in aliens and all manner of sci-fi creatures too, but seeing as I’ve never met The Predator in the flesh per say, I can handle them better. My brain stops when I tell it to; not so with the ghost stories and the like; it’s too busy remembering.
We were watching a show like that not too long ago, witnesses recounting their experiences. I think it was called A Haunting, but I’m not even remotely sure on that.
During a recounting, as we’re all sitting in our living room, I’m on my phone (of course), not paying too much attention, when I hear a line spoken on the TV. I can’t remember what was said, but I look over at my boyfriend and say, ‘I don’t know why, but that right there is making me sick to my stomach’, then the woman on the TV says she was sick to her stomach the entire encounter. This freaked him out a little bit, for me, it’s business as usual. He’s not turned on another one of those shows since.

I know the difference between sensationalized stories and the real deal.

Therein lies the problem. I know the difference between real and imagined, but how to explain that to someone who may think I’m nuts? Answer: I don’t bother. I’ll recount stories, but I won’t tell someone when they have a hitch hiker, unless they ask.

It’s simple really, some people carry entities, some don’t. There’s no perfected formulae to be able to metaphysically tell the difference of whether you are susceptible or not.
If you go some where haunted, best be takin’ some kind a juju with ya when ya go. Even if you just grab a bracelet and -think- ‘nothing can attach itself to me while I wear it’, that’s enough. If you’re the type for Ritual, by all means, Call your Corners, make a chant: but for the sake of the gods, protect yourself.

We’re not all ‘nutters’ here.
We have very real experiences which lead us to believe and feel what we believe and feel.

So, therein is why I like sci-fi better; because it doesn’t remind me of being woken up by a deck of cards falling on my head, from the spirit of a grandfather who used to play rummy with his granddaughter. This was back when I was a teenager, and Ma just couldn’t pass up this nearly perfect looking rocking chair. After that experience, and she figured out it wasn’t my sister, seeing as how my sister stayed at a friend’s that particular night (unbeknownst to me), out went the chair.
Or the time I was scared witless, standing at my kitchen sink doing dishes at the age of seven, staring out, and seeing something so bad, I screamed like I was being murdered. Woke my dad out of his well known dead sleep nap enough to come running. I still couldn’t tell you to this day what I saw, but I know it wasn’t remotely positive. I also know it wasn’t a fertile imagination, I was oddly quite realistic for seven. There’s any number of others I can recall, but those two will do for examples.

And that brings me to last night. I was lying down trying to sleep, when I feel Sylvia (my black cat) put his paws up next to where my head’s laying. I’m waiting for him to jump up, nothing. So, I open my eyes to tell him to hop on up: he’s not there. I look down my body, where my two females are laying, and they’re both staring where I’m staring, like they can see what I can’t. Our fourth cat, (Butters), sleeping, pops his head up, and comes to sit next to me, also staring at something that just happens to be the same fixed point the other two are eye balling.

I can feel something, but I don’t know what. I decide I need to find Sylvia, ya know, maybe he was there and my other three cats are just simultaneously nutter. Phone in hand, I head to my daughter’s room, where he’s sitting at her feet and is obviously being vigilant in that, One: I didn’t get my usual meow in greeting, and Two: This cat never doesn’t meow unless something odd is up, usually of the metaphysical variety. You’d think he was Siamese he’s such a talker if it weren’t for his midnight black coat.
At this point, I return to the living room, where the other three cats are now following something with their eyes around the room. I tell it that it needs to go, it’s not welcomed here, and I’m sorry if I inadvertantly invited it (though I’m pretty damned certain I haven’t, I’m not an inviter, I’m usually an invitee).
It was just weird.
If you understood just how strange shit has to get to be weird to me, you’d understand just how disturbing this was.

On the end of that proclamation, I hear nothing, not even the wind that’s been gusting all night, and the cats go back to business as usual.

Just. Friggin. Weird.

I got to sleep right after this, nearly as soon as my head hit the pillow; but I wonder if this was why I couldn’t sleep last night until after this all went down. Sometimes an innate ability isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, because you don’t know it’s an ability, it’s just how it’s always been for you; therefore it takes longer to harness or control. Whatever any of that was, I’ll pass on a repeat performance, thank you very much. Running into stuff where ever I may go is fine and dandy, but my home is my home and that’s just that.

Anything odd happening to any of ya’ll lately? Past experiences? Something ongoing? By all means, share your experiences, I like to read them. 🙂

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