Haunted House

I talked on the phone with my mom earlier this week. She recently spent a week at the New Mexico house with Dad, and she was excited to tell me that she felt my grandmother’s presence there.

Mom has always claimed to sense spirits and things, but I thought it was just part of her drama queen nature. This time though, I found myself wondering if she really does pick up on things, because Dan swears there are spirits at the New Mexico house. And I know Dan senses things (whether they’re ghosts or not, I can’t say), because of some strange things that have happened over the years.

Another post for another time, perhaps.

But about my mother’s phone call and her experience at the New Mexico house. . .

What struck me about Mom’s assertion was that it put me in mind of a strange experience I had when Dan and I were out there last summer. We were at the house alone for two days before my father came home, and I had an uncharacteristic energy slump. From the moment we walked in the door, all I wanted to do was eat and sleep. Anything else was a chore. I wasn’t sick, and I hadn’t felt tired on any other part of our trip, not even hiking in the mountains. This was something different from anything I had ever felt before. It was a complete lack of energy that made it hard to do anything. I had to constantly fight the sense I was moving through something thick and sticky, like molasses, and no amount of rest, coffee, and good food could fix it.

This lasted until the moment my father returned home, at which point my energy level bounced back to its normal level. We stayed up talking until 3:00 am, and I could’ve gone on longer. I had a nice run in the morning, and I felt fine for the rest of our trip.

Supposedly, ghosts take energy from the living. And since I wouldn’t know a ghost if it sat on the end of my nose, I’m guessing that the household spirits (if they exist) were feeding off my energy, checking up on me or trying to get my attention, to no avail. Dan says the spirits are definitely there and that they come around to keep an eye on things. So perhaps they just wanted to make sure Dan and I were okay and left when my father showed up, figuring their work was done.

According to Mom, my father believes in the ghosts, too. This is odd, since my father is a practical sort, like me. But Mom swears that when she told him Grandma was around, he said, “I know.”

So maybe I have a haunted house in my family. If so, it’s a benevolent haunting—just nice family members checking up, making sure everyone is okay. But still, if I feel inexplicably depleted next time I go out there, I may have to do something about it. Maybe I'll ask the ghosts I'm not entirely sure I believe in to either show themselves or quit stealing my energy.

Yeah, I know it's weird, but I know what I feel. I've got no problem with the idea of friendly ghosts. But if they're leaving me exhausted, that's not a nice thing to do. Oh, and another thing-- during that time we were alone at the house, I slammed my hand in the truck door by mistake. It was late at night, with the nearest emergency facility at least fifteen miles away. I didn't get so much as a bruise. It seemed like just a lucky break at the time, but now I find myself wondering.

Today's Workout
30 minute spin