The Shadows Above My Bed

I’m not a full-force believer in paranormal occurrences.  I know that many can be explained away by high emotional states, tricks of lighting and movement, and an overactive imagination.  But, I do believe there are instances that are incredibly real and cannot be explained.  They are usually manifestations that give new insights and create a healing in our lives.

Recently, our kitchen lights have been dimming randomly.  In the middle of cooking and cleaning, they will unexpectedly dim and then return to full light a few moments later.  We’ve explored all electrical reasons for it.  No other appliances are running simultaneously and it doesn’t happen with the circuits are overloaded.   The weird thing about it is that we’ve discovered it only happens when I’m in the room.  When discussing that revelation, my husband confided that when he enters our bedroom late at night, he sees shadows over my sleeping form.  He says they have no particular shape or formation and disappear the moment his mind registers them.  He follows this up by saying that it could certainly be his imagination, but it’s real enough to give him the creeps—a surprising admission from my rational, matter-of-fact husband.

I’ve had a lot of trauma in my life.  As a young child, I lost both my grandfather and uncle in two separate accidents just three months apart.  I also lost two sisters in a house fire and a brother in an accident within a year of each other during my teenage years.  If a spirit wanted to speak to me from the other side, there are definitely a lot to choose from.

On a psychological level, the trauma of those sudden deaths has affected me, obviously, but in what ways I’m not entirely certain.  When I was a child, I thought people died because I loved them.  I live with a constant fear that someone I love is going to be taken away at any unexpected moment.  I’ve learned the art of not reacting to bad news, but slowly digesting it and taking it out a little bit at a time to analyze it, even if that takes me years.  I’ve learned to separate my emotions from a stressful situation and can show a veneer of strength, which actually makes me appear unemotional and unaffected when on the inside I’m churning and stewing and replaying things repeatedly.  It has made it difficult for me to communicate on an intimate level except with the very few people I trust implicitly. I’ve also learned that family and real friendships are important, and, because life is too short, I have no problem weeding out those that are not loyal or do not invest the same amount of energy.  It certainly is what it is, and I don’t see it changing much at this point in the game.

For some reason, shadows above my bed don’t scare me.  I don’t feel uneasiness, darkness, or threat.  I think of them as my grandmother watching over me while I sleep, especially since I haven’t been feeling well.  I see the dimming of the lights as a mischievous little brother granting me forgiveness from the other side, or a sister confirming her love despite that denial from the living.  All of those scenarios bring healing.  It could only be wishful thinking on my part, but until my last day in this life is over, I won’t know for sure.

For now, the dimming lights and shadows have a creepiness factor and make an interesting story.  Everything is open to interpretation because everyone has their own life experiences and personal beliefs to come to their own conclusions.  Personally, I see no harm in giving the unexplained a rational explanation.  Especially it if brings peace and comfort.