Well – I had to leave you yesterday with a cliff-hanger, because the climax is an anticlimax. Sort of.
To my chagrin, and to my relief (in a way), the wallet was not in the pocket of my robe. I figure that our ghost knows that I’ve replaced all the necessary things, and therefore does not need to give it back. But just lately, I have started to think some more about the whole wrist-wallet debacle.
I told you when I first lost the black wallet that all my most important cards were in that wallet, and the lesser used/needed ones were in the tan wallet. I had decided to separate them that way to avoid having to scramble and fumble through the stack of cards (one-handed) to find the one I needed. My most-used and most-important, among which are my driver’s license and insurance cards, plus my portacath ID (in case of emergency), as well as my two debit cards and one credit card. I also kept with them the “value-cards,” given out by certain stores that entitle shoppers with the cards to “special” prices (what a stupid come-on, but they have become necessary!), from the grocery store we use and our pharmacy. Convenient, no?
Well, the odd thing about it is that when I found the tan wallet, except for the two debit cards and one credit card, all my important cards were in it. The more I have thought of it, the more I am thinking that the ghost took the tan wallet only temporarily to transfer the cards s/he thought I would need. S/he only wanted me to stop any unnecessary spending! Just think of it! A budget-minded ghost! Quite frankly, that blows my mind and simultaneously avoids blowing my bank account!
Now, so you won’t be totally disappointed in the anticlimax of this tale, I have sensed something a bit strange. It only happens (so far) in the insomnia room (where I (don’t) sleep most nights. About three weeks ago, while lying in my bed, on my side, with my face toward the open door, I felt a cool breeze sweep over me for a few seconds, and then disappear. It felt as though it was coming from the door, so I got up to see if our front door downstairs had somehow blown open, letting in the breeze.
The door was firmly shut. I then checked to see if when the fan for the heat switched on it might create a temporary draft. I discounted that reason because all year long the heating/cooling fan switches on and off and has never created a draft before, and because the draft is not in the hallway, which is where I thought and sensed it was coming from. Whenever I feel the draft coming in, I have run into the hall to check where it is coming from. It is not out there, but when I walk back into the room, it envelops me again.
I have told you all before that Hubs and I are fans of “The Ghost Hunters” TV series. We thoroughly enjoy the program, taking interest in their efforts to “debunk,” or find logical, alternative explanations for what some people believe is paranormal activity. On that program, when the Ghost Hunters team, or their clients have felt the sensation I am describing, always accompanying it is a feeling of another presence, or a sense of being watched, or “taken over.” With mine, there is none of that.
The breeze comes, lingers briefly, and is then gone. It happens a few times a week – about once a day, but not predictably or at any certain time. Go figure. I have never felt frightened or any sense of threat or doom. I have gotten in the habit recently of calling out “Hello!” and asking her/him to please stop taking things and/or hiding them, as that is very annoying and does not make their presence welcome, which otherwise it would be.
The strange doings here at Chez Calhoun continue. I’ve thought of inviting some ghost hunters in to do their thing and seek evidence of the paranormal, or even of doing some investigating myself. Only one things keeps me from doing it. That one thing might sound odd to you, my Gentle Readers. I don’t want to find that there really are no visitors from another dimension. I rather enjoy the thought that we have a ghostly “overseer.” To find out unequivocally that we do not, would be, I think, a disappointment. What do you think?
As for me, I think the quantity and quality of our visitations are about right, in other words, just enough. . .