Mud Puddle Splashtacular!

I've been home for a couple of days. Started with achyness and giddiness then, a more annoying than anything, intestinal glitch of the barfy kind. Ok, that's enough detail. The good news is, other than feeling weak and 'off', I'm actually not feeling all too awful. This happens about once a year - I get achy or barfy or whatever, and between bouts of gastro-intestinal distress I feel OK. I haven't done the big bad flu in a few years now, just these little flus. Still it is the flu and I'm home, keeping it real, keeping it all to myself (as opposed to idiot co-workers who have (so help me, some do this) tell you they are ill, but feeling ok enough to work. Thanks a lot people! No doubt one of you (or some poor soul on light-rail) gave this too me. You're too kind.

Enough bitchin'! Ran across this clip and it totally makes me feel happy. How can you watch this elk, one of nature's children play and not feel somehow refreshed - and dry. Watch this and I dare you not too feel at least a little up-lifted.

Been two days... am still laughing at this playful elk.

My Chicken Dreams Come True

Le Tres Chic, Lavender Chicken Condo

Hurrah! Tonight, for the first time, I put the girls in to their new, upscale Chicken Condo. Up until now, they've been crashing in their rather flimsy temporary quarters. But now they have, or so I hope, the protection of a portable and lockable pen. There are wheels in the back so I can roll them to a new spot as needed. Portable coops are called 'chicken tractors'. What sold me on it, is it's plastic, like a giant Fisher Price toy for chickens. I can disassemble and/or hose the whole thing out as necessary.

You can see the girls in there, bedding down for the night, no help from 'moi' necessary. *sniff* They grow up so quickly!
I fretted over whether it would be difficult to teach the girls how to go into their closing, night-time quarters (totally necessary to protect them from night roaming raccoons, skunks and opossums). Ha! After having their first meal out of their fancy feed container, as it was twilight, they climbed right up into their night-time roost as if they had made reservations and wanted to check out their accommodations. Why does their 'knowing how to be chickens' thing continue to surprise me?

"Bwwwak... I was hoping for better decor, bwwwaaak, I guess this will do"
I LOVE this coop. Has 2 pull out trays under the 'bedroom' (above), which I've lined with newspaper for easier clean-up. There is a little ventilation slit to keep the girls aired when I lock them in for the night. Their boudoir seems well insulated against excessive heat/cold too.

The girls are wondering about the 'privacy' of their spacious new quarters
That last view looks through the hole. They will - without my help of course - figure out to climb through that hole into the egg laying room. There is a removable porthole so I can remove their eggs, when those wonderful commodities make their first appearances say in February or March. I can very nearly taste that first omelet now.

My kitty Rum was looking a bit miffed that the girls are getting such first class treatment. Really - he was. So to make it up to him, and to keep the Animal Cruelty people away from my door, I washed and cleaned out his outside winter-time bed. Maybe being snug as a bug in a catbed (that would, I guess be a flea?) will keep Rum purring 'til spring.

Rompin' Around - Day Three

Another day, another romp - this time Joann and I drove on up to Grass Valley for my quarterly bio-feedback appointment (new age Cali-fornia type stuff).

My new therapy buddy, Kitie rested on my lap
while I relaxed during my appointment
While I was at my therapy appointment, Joann blew some cash at a new age Hippy shop. That was followed by a visit to the historic Holbrooke Hotel a couple of doors down where she worked off a few rows on her baby blanket project. I joined her later in the library at the Holbrooke for a cup of clam chowder and a cheeseburger. Joann enjoyed the basil fettachine - I nicked a taste - Yummy.
Joann enjoyed her visit at Grass Valley's Holbrooke Hotel
Following lunch I stopped in at the local food coop so I could pick up some much needed vitamins - blew more $ than Joann did on jewelry! Then we drove the long way home, along HWY 49 and through Auburn. There were several nice painted murals in town, some on the sides of buildings.
There was a cool mural painted over a gun/pawn/whatever shop. It depicted the giant water canons used by ambitious/lazy miners who washed away entire hills to break out gold ore. Totally the most destructive, albeit interesting method of gold mining - ever.

Nice Mural of Gold Rush Water Canons
Drive-by shot of Auburn Mural
A half hour and miles & miles of twisted mountain roads lead us along HWY 49 and over to Coloma's Gold Discovery State Park. The State Park commemorates where Sutter actually made his 1849 discovery of gold, Gold, GOLD!

Sutter's Gold Mill
Everyone knows, the gold lined a few pockets but tore the crap up out of the local Indian tribes.

And bugger all if the Gold Discovery Museum wasn't closed
forcing me to shoot this through the front doors
Cedar Huts in a Re-created Nisenan Village
We didn't exactly hike at Discovery Park, but we saw loads of interesting knick-nacks in the tiny town.
Warrior on Horseback just outside a gew-gaw shop
My favorite gew-gaw, the rocking horse Connestoga
Totally enjoyed the drive. It rained a bit, but not much. We made it back to Fair Oaks but weren't quite ready to go home yet - so we headed for the American River for a rip-snortin', river rock tearing up visit. Danged if we didn't discover the River is CLOSED! The turkey's were still roaming round, but somehow having access closed to the river was pretty sad. It's all the economics of keeping parks open these days. The river will re-open in the spring though.

Along our usual drive, we saw an adorably tiny Mule Deer buck with pitiful little antlers - barely a double pronger. He kept peering into the shrubbery, stamping a bit and looking timid, but intent.

The low buck on the totem pole
What the small buck was looking at made himself known, as a buck with sizable rack came out of the shrubbery. He was a looker! Quite handsome, the lord of the woods. The movements were all too quick for getting a decent shot, but you can see him below, his antlers were fairly large.

Grand Poo-bah, Lord of the Woods
The bucks shinnied back into the shrubbery and there was a ruckus as we realized what the confrontation was all about - a sweet, gentle doe. She did the doe equivalent of dropping a white hankie on the ground and the large buck chased off the smaller one. I thought things couldn't get any more interesting and then along came a small herd of bicyclists - a man and his children.

"DEER?" shouted the man, as his passel of mini-bicyclists rode past.

"Yes," said I, irritated beyond believe but I guess, live and let live. Off in the distance, Joann and I could see the three deer, led by the doe, who leapt so high she could have easily cleared a 6 foot fence.

As the man and his kids rode off, Joann and I did our classic, 'wise women of the village' head shake. We know that sometimes you just have to slow down and have a look-see.

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way To...

Photo by J. BertschIt was up and out this morning, to Starbucks - then HWY 50 to Lake Tahoe; lovely drive. It's really only this past year I got into my head that Tahoe is not that far from my house; hour and a little bit. Along the way we stopped time to time to stare at scenery.

by J. Bertsch

Our first stop was lakeside at some historic log cabins that once housed the rich and fab, but now house the Tallac Museum. Joann walked down to the Lake Tahoe shore to dig her feet into the sand and take photos.

Joann hiked down to the lake for some photos
In their hay day, the Baldwin cabins were private cabins
Joann's lake-side Photo
gorgeous, isn't it? photo by J. Bertsch
The cabins blend in nicely with the Ponderosa Pines that surround them.
Now it was time for a drive north to see Emerald Bay. But first we had this conversation:

Claire: "Want to see where Don and I saw the black bear back in April?"

Joann: "But's the bear's probably gone, don't 'cha think?"

Claire: "Uh... yeah, see your point. Guess we should make our own memories."

So, we drove about a 1/4 mile, and there, dead center of the road, staring at us - a HUMONGOUS Black Bear!

I did what I sometimes do when stunned - I froze. Stopped the car, but could not grab my small digital camera which was right there. Joann turned on her camera. We stared at the Black Bear, The Black Bear stared back at us, then galumphed off into the shrubbery and away into the woods.

We shrieked, whooped, high-fived and spent at least a half hour lamenting our failure to photograph the bruin. Still can't believe how I missed such an easy shot (and the bear couldn't believe it missed out on two succulent women for brunch). Bugger! Oh well. We now had out own Lake Tahoe memory of a Black Bear - incidentally, not a mile from where I saw a brown Black Bear last May. The photo on the left is a Black Bear I 'shot' in Canada.

Still carrying on about 'our' Black Bear, it was north to Emerald Bay. The wind roared through the pines, and it was hang on to your hat or get a shot of it flying over to the Nevada shore.

Emerald Bay
Joann's photo of the tea party castle on the Emerald Bay island (in photo above)
is so cute it doesn't even look real photo by J. Bertsch
Face of "Just-Saw-a-Bear-woman". photo by J. Bertsch
The rest of the day we drove up to Tahoe City for lunch at a Thai Restaurant. Then on to Norstar, where Joann's family spent a wonderful winter holiday a while back. After that I wanted to check out Martis Creek - a well known birding spot in Placer County. Might just get my Great Grey Owl there one of these days.

Joann got an Autumn look the cabin she's
enjoyed during winter vacation with her family
Martis Creek scenery - sagebrush and a little water

I scored the only shot of a Mountain Bluebird I've ever taken
It was a long, long day of driving and sniggering in the car over silly insider jokes. When we got back to my house I cooked up a chicken with some of my garden rosemary (one of the few herbs growing just now). Came out A-OK. Also baked up a yam and totally destroyed several ramakins of creme brule - uh! Every time I want to show off my cooking for anyone, I get excited and forget steps. So the creme brule tastes fine, but the texture is rubbish. Oh well! Oy are we worn out. When you're over 50, even a long day of fun kinda kicks your arse.

Kayla's #1 Grandmother is Up for a Visit

Joan is in Northern California visiting her first grandchild, McKayla, born last week. I get custody of the new grandmother for a few days. We decided to visit Robin out on the Meridian Ranch. For a nice look see at Robin's Jacob's sheep and I wanted another look at her chickens - yes, I've got chickens-on-the-brain.

Robin greets us on the new entrance at her Meridian Ranch Studio
I was worried a bit about keeping Robin, the busiest woman in Vacaville from her work. Happily, Robin said she has planned to try her hand at making 'wooly pets' for a class she is thinking of teaching. Joann and I immediately vounteered to be guinea pig students so Robin can see how it would be to teach a class making the fuzzies. Wooly pets are little kits for making animals, birds, bugs and such by sculpting raw dyed wool.

Starting our impromptu lesson wool sculpting lesson
The toys are neat, enough wool to make at least a couple of pets per box. The idea is to 'felt' the wool by prodding it with a sharp needle against a foam pad. Uh... soon I, the perpetual clutz was bleeding. Of course that was only to give Robin a heads up that she will need to have a box of bandades on hand when she teaches class.

Robin demos prodding, poking and stabbing innocent
widdle fuzz balls. Great therapy for working on personal issues
Here's some finished bunnies made with the kit. Joann's bun is on the right, the others are Robin's doings.

Quorum of Wooly Bunnies
To commemorate our work, we took them outside for a photo session

Robin's birds hang from the sage, Joann's bun-bun and
my Red Fox in front. Pretty, neh?
Class ended with Joann's first visit to the Ranch. I, being spoiled was given a tour or Robin's flock of mixed laying hens - a five toed Dorking, white laced Wyandots and Poof-legged Cochins, an Americana, and a very friendly Buff Orpington who came over straightaway so Robin could hold her for some petting time. Who knew there were such sweet chickens around? An admirable group of egg layers!

The Meridian Ranch 'Girls'
For a grand finale, Robin was cool enough to set Rusty out herding the Jacobs. Rusty is still learning but Robin took him to a competition earlier this year and Rusty did them proud - a blue ribbon!

Here's Rusty showing those Jacobs sheep who's the boss.
All that fun, and Robin sent us back to Fair Oaks with a huge bag of home grown pomagranites - deep ruby red and delish.

Thanks for a great day Robin!

The True Tales of the WHOMPING Door and the Littlest Ghost

Happy Halloween. Today, for your haunting pleasure, I offer two real scenarios in the name of spooks, and things that do go bump in the night - sometimes in broad day-light. I'll start with the incident that, if you like, might be shrugged off, if you dare.

It was about a year ago. I would come home, leaving the garage and entering the living room through the garage door. I'd, naturally close the door behind me. After fifteen minutes - WHOOMP! The door would sound as if someone on the other side of the door had laid into it with their shoulder. Loud. Really loud! There was no one on the other side.

It had begun - every I entered the house from the garage - a ten or fifteen minute delay, then - WHOMP! Every time it happened, I was totally unnerved.

EVIL WHOMPING DOOR...

Though the sound was loud enough to hear at the rear of my house, I found myself wondering it my imagination wasn't making the noise louder than it really was. So, when the door 'performed' during a visit of my friend Barbara one weekend, I felt some relief. I wasn't just imagining it all.

Still, I wanted a simple explanation about the door, that had excluded a ghost theory. There had to be some other sort of explanation for the door slamming that I could dredge up. I thought a bit, then told Barbara that every time I closed that door, it sat unbalanced in the door frame. Then, after about ten to fifteen minutes or so for the door to settle, making that godawaful noise, like Mr. T violently attempting to break into the room. I don't know if Barbara bought into my logical explanation, but I tried my best to believe my own explanation for my temperamental door.

Any Claire denial there? Uh... well, I admit, there were a couple of times my mind, if not my brain, was certain something was smashing itself against the door.

Eventually, after much thought, and several weeks of nervousness and fear of doors, I decided if, perhaps, the door's noise was the result of a ghost, poltergeist or some such, it certainly was not welcome in my house. I wasn't going to be freaked out by some stupid door in my own home.

The WHOOMPS ceased.

One day there was WHOOMP. The next day the door I closed the door and afterwards there was naught but, you'll pardon the expression - dead silence.

When I look back on that event, I wonder, if the noise was caused by the door settling in the door frame, why did it stop so suddenly? For that matter why did it start so suddenly? I did no repairs or anything else to the door, but the noise is gone and good riddance.

But you know - in my garage, there hangs a large black and white portrait of my grouchy, paternal Grandfather. When the door was at it's noisy business, I had sometimes wondered if my Grandfather hadn't been pissed off at me - hanging him in the garage, and not the living room. Or, I sometimes thought, more likely he was miffed as I had stopped my on-line research into his life and ancestors. Had Gramps dropped hints wanting his fair share of attention?

Now here is another ghost story, the Halloween finale; another true story.

A few months ago, something threw me for an uneasy loop. At the home of a friend of mine, a horrible thing happened that resulted in the death of a five year old child. The child died, while snuggled down on my friend's living room couch. Totally avoidable death, totally devastating and I will leave that details of the incident at that.

Following the death of the little girl, who was had been known loving as 'the baby', things began to happen around my friend's home. She told me in email that from time to time, the cabinets in the kitchen, left closed, would be found later, open. There were noises for which no one could find a source. The television became particularly lively - changing channels and clicking on and off by itself. When the 'poltergeist' was very active, my friend and her significant other, would say the baby, was looking for attention.

Now when a friend tells me that sort of thing, scientific skeptic in my brain says 'don't believe it'. Contrarily, the area of my brain that totally trusts my friend says, 'I know she isn't lying.'

Jump forward several months. My friend and I visited with another friend, whom for sake of this story I will call Irene.

It was Spring and the three of us lolled around Irene's sitting room, enjoying a nice meal and a lovely chat.

CLICK!

I looked over at the television.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

The television was switching on and off, on and off, on its own accord - no one was touching any remotes. Shoot - Irene's TV was practically antique, there was no remote. We all stared at the television, then looked uneasily at each other.

I looked wide eyed at my friend, and uneasily, we both smiled. Apparently 'the baby' had come with her to visit Irene's. Bored with the adult conversation, the baby apparently wanted some attention.

We told the tale of the child to Irene, who having ghost incidents of her own happen in her house (of the sort that would make Stephan King wet himself) did not doubt who was playing with the TV knobs. Irene did not doubt the tale of the littlest ghost in the least - & for once, neither could I.

The Mountain Lion in my Bedroom

This is a true story. Not even the names have been changed to protect the indolent.

I woke in my bed, early one morning, on a work day. Over my bedroom closet, I was stunned to see a magnificent, large and tawny mountain lion. There is only a wall above my closet, but the lion appeared to be lying down on a shelf. The lioness, which somehow I knew was female, stared intently at me, and snarling, as if imparting a message to me. That is, I could see she was growling, but could not hear her voice.

I knew this was just another case of my having opened my eyes and woken up before my brain had finished showing me a dream. No big whoop – happens to me all the time, just never saw anything as impressive on waking as that beautiful beast - she was brilliant and as solid looking as anything else in my bedroom. I figured when I had time that night I would look it up in my animal totem book what message mountain lions give to their minions. I got up and prepared myself to leave for work. It was raining.

At my office, the morning began normally enough. But later in the morning nonplussed coworkers began coming over to tell me that a former student assistant had out of the blue, showed up. His name was Robert. That morning he had ridden his bike, and arrived soaking wet. A year or so earlier, he used to work on our data base, and though generally a pleasant guy, in the manner of a true geek, he often showed no more tact or communication skills than a petualant 4 year old. My luck on this day, he had come into the office just to see me.

He grilled me about a project I’d been given the a year earlier. The project had been a challenge, for me, get a database to work in a way for which it hadn't been designed. Unfortunately, though I am rather a natural on computers, I’ve never had any formal training in computer languages. So after much trying, and asking my supervisors for help that I never received, I gave up. The project was not completed, and was ditched. I told Robert so.

As the old database was discussed, Robert's voice raised, and before long, he was yelling at me. He now worked for a computer company and had been given an assignment, similar to the one I had ditched, and which he too, could not complete. He had hoped I had completed the task so he could use my work as a basis for his. He ranted on, telling me how I ruined his project. I was stunned. I stood there, staring at him dumbfounded, until a supervisor ordered him to leave. As the day progressed I felt worse and worse about the unfair chewing out I had received, and even residual guilt about the long ago abandoned project.

Skip to that night - I lay in my bed reading before lights out. I remembered that I wanted to look up the significance of my mountain lion ‘sighting’. I read in my Animal Totem book:

*Mountain Lion can be a very difficult power totem for you to have, because it places you in a position to be a target for the problems of others. You could be blamed for things going wrong, or for always taking charge when others cannot. You may become the perfect justification for the insecurities of others.

The totem book described precisely what had happened to me at the office. I grabbed my journal, and there was the unshakable truth, by my own hand; a drawing of the mountain lion I had quickly sketched that morning, because I hadn't had time to write out the dream before going to work. The lioness, in the early hours of the day, had assured me that no guilt lay with my own actions.

I swear on my beloved mother’s soul, that’s exactly what happened.

Was it a paranormal experience? As far as I’m concerned, it absolutely was. And yet, I recall that at the time I after I read the journal, my first thought was "That lion can't have had anything to do with warning me! " And I tought in an ultimate grasp at denial, "I didn't see the lion this morning...?" You know how sometimes the events of the morning feel like they happened a week earlier? That is how the timing of seeing the lioness felt to me.

So quickly, I checked my journal, and there in my own hand, was the quick sketch of the mountain lion I drew shortly after viewing her. You know, if the date on my journal had been one day earlier, I’d have dismissed the whole thing as a quirk, as a coincidence. I would have denied there was any link between the lion I saw and Robert, who showed up at the office to blame me for his own problems. If there had been more than 24 hours between the lion/the guy, I'd have croaked rather than admit to myself I'd experience anything out of the ordinary. I live in denial of most things paranormal.

If you’re wondering what a totem is, it’s an animal species from which you can learn lessons from, or at least that’s my interpretation of a totem. I did not formerly count the mountain lion as one of my totems, but she seems to think she is and she came to tell me so. To this day a plate hangs over the bedroom closet. It was gifted to me by my friend friend Joann, to whom I told the whole mountain lion story. The plate commemorates the lioness, who perched above my bed to warn me, and comfort me, on that day, November 30, 1993.

The Mountain Lion plate plate that hangs over my closet

*from Medicine Cards by Jamie Sams & David Carson

Spirits vs Dust On the Lens - a Spritely Look at Orbs

This edition of 'Spooky Shite week' teeters on shaky ground. When first written, I was firmer in my beliefs, but now I am not. We all come to our own judgments.

So! What am I rambling about? Orbs – orbs are Orbs are just round sphere-ish lights that show up on digital stills and videos. The reason the lights show up in photos/videos is in modern digital cameras the flash is only a few inches above the camera's lens, and therefore, the light illuminates whatever minute particles are afloat in the atmosphere - dust, rain drops, small insects and junk. I learned most of my grammar from Wally and the Beave.

A year ago I visited Colorado. People there explained to me, orbs are live beings; natural spirits with an affinity for cheerful people. Recently I read on-line articles stating further or in addition, that orbs are spirits/ghosts.

Others believe orbs are sentient beings, living creatures science has not as yet acknowledged. If that's not striking enough, some think these minute creatures exist in multiple dimensions, as in String Theory. Is your brain full yet?

So what do I think about orbs? I’ll start with a photo I took a couple of weeks ago during a rain shower.

Those round white blobs/orbs are clearly my camera’s flash reflected off of rain drops

The orbs in that photo must be light bouncing off rain drops and whiskers on kittens, though I think they do look rather... organic. I'll mention here there are those who claim faces can be seen within orbs - even buildings - all from the future, the past or even those other ten dimensions. Here's a close up of orb from one of my photos.

Can you see the bust of a figure in the lower orb?

So you see the bust of a figure in that organic blip of protoplasm? You're not buying into that, are you. OK. I admit. Me neither.

Bear with me a little more. You may recall, in early September, friends and I stayed at Asilomar; a cute place known as ‘Guest’s Inn’, in which John Steinbeck's sister used to live. I told my friend Diane, I hoped, just this once in my skeptical life, I could see a ghost there in that old house - preferably, the ghost of Steinbeck's sister. During the visit, the Ghosts seemed to be a no-show.

Here are 2 photos I took there. I didn’t notice anything weird about the photos until after the trip when I took the time to really examine the photos.

First up, a HUMONGOUS fat white orb
showed up with Robbie, on the left
It is impressively as orbs go, isn't it? Now, what is it? Uh... ?

Close-up of Robbie's Orb - see a face?

Now, up until I saw my rain drop orbs, I thought the orb on Robbie must be a spirit. Now, alas, now it only looks like light bouncing off a dust mote floating close to the camera, which is why it appears so large. I'm a spoil sport, eh?

OK, but now look at this next photo. It has five orbs; three orbs float in the top of the photo, right of the lamp. There is a forth orb on the bottom of the photo, barely visible on the far left coffee table leg. I choose to assume those four orbs are dust.

See the white orb, under the table,
streaking away from Ingrid's knees?
You might have noticed the fifth orb - under the coffee table - see that cotton ball-ish thing that seems to be caught by the camera, streaking toward the left?

Close-up of cotton ball orb with a short, comet-like tail
That little Q-tip is dead weird! Matches what I've read about orbs exhibiting a trail, or a ribbon-like appearance". Here is a quote from an on-line orb site by an author describing the difference between 'true' spirit orbs and dust bunnies in the headlights:

As mentioned above there is no official way to determine authenticity of an orb within a photo but here are a few key elements to keep in mind. 1. A bright orb is more likely to be real than a faded one. 2. Multiple orbs in a single photo are most likely dust motes. 3. Orbs that are bright and show a vibrating effect within the photo are likely to be real. 4. A slight trail is also something to look for in determining true orbs.

AHA! So, out of all the orbs I posted here, the one moving under the coffee table fits the markers of true orbs - spirits or sentient beings of nature as yet unrecognized by modern science. OK, I always love when they end TV shows on ghosts and stuff with this sort of quote:

So... is the eerie cotton ball in the forlorn, and mysterious ghost of John Steinbeck's sister? Or... and there is a wish here... is it the spirit of our beloved Hen, Fran, come to enjoy one more night out with the girls?

Not buying it? Well then bugger all! Ok, I still have the remainder of the week to screw with you. This post is only a moderately spook-worthy. But give me just a little more of your precious time... BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA!

The Ghosts in the Doorway

In an episode of Ghostly Encounters a man told a spooky tale. One night when he was a boy, he laid in bed, waking to see a skeleton rise up out of a dresser drawer. Then across his room he saw a horrible specter cross his bedroom floor. He was terrified when it happened to him as a boy and unnerved in adulthood as he relayed the story on TV.

Aw, big freakn' deal! I grew up in the Bronx. When I was very young my brother Juan and I shared a bedroom. We saw weird stuff floating around the bedroom in the wee hours, all the time. Know what? After all these years I still see things floating around my bedroom. And I guess you think, that sort of thing is supposed to be scary, right?

Uh... no. Really, as a kid what I saw was not ghosts or goblins, but floating around bunny rabbits, puppy dogs, toys, and only rarely did I ever spy scary things lurking in the shadow of a closed bedroom door - you know, sheet ghosts or the odd spider. But unlike myself, my bro Juan - a big fan of scary movies then as now - saw ghosts, monsters and other spooky beings in our bedroom frequently. The things Juan and I saw were sometimes wavy, shadowy, and at other times they were as solid as the furniture of our unlit room. We never saw the same things, and never saw them at the same time.

An explanation? I can't speak for Juan, who thanks to the Age of Aquairus and weed, he can't remember what happened back then. But for myself, even back then I didn't think I was seeing ghosts. I hadn't a clue what we were seeing but it was obvious to me that we saw the objects only for what amounted to seconds after opening our eyes, even if we were fully awake as we opened them. Shucks, if I opened my eyes and saw something potentially bladder emptying, I would just shut my eyes tight and dunk under the sheets for a bit.

Today, as an adult, to this day, I still wake to see things, now and again. Sometimes those things still have bladder emptying potential, but not very often.

Ages ago I recall reading in a Scientific American magazine, people can wake up before their REM (dream state) sleep finishes. In those few seconds, their brain continues to project dream images even if the person is fully awake and has opened their eyes. That, as far as I'm concerned explains what happened to my brother and to myself all those years ago in the Bronx.

Recently I read a slightly different interpretation of waking and seeing weird stuff, because there is a psychoactive drug the brain normally produces during dream sleep. In some people - like myself - that chemical is over produced and is slow to 'drain' from the mind upon awaking.
The newly woke person literally continues to dream, or rather, continue seeing dream images after waking for a few seconds, until the chemical dissipates.

Cool, eh? Perhaps, but such visions also have the potential to scare the pee out of you if you don't know what is going on. I recently accessed a sleep forum. Pretty much all the people on a sleep forum wake terrified of their visions. Most seem to think they are either psychotic, or worse, that they are being haunted. I was amazed that none of them thought of themselves as weirdly privileged for having their rare dream state experiences, but shucks, but that's just me.

The very last two times I had such waking visions were highly memorable for me. One of the two experiences I'm speaking of was just beautiful! I was wide awake in my dark bedroom, in my current house. I lay on my side, watching a glowing, grapefruit sized, 3-dimensional dodecahedron spin slowly, gracefully on its axis.

It looked much like this, and I could see through it
It was beautiful as it glowed, spun and sure as hell wasn't a ghost or paranormal. It was the tail end of a dream I'd was having as I woke. It just continued to be seen as a solid object, by me, for at least half a minute after I was fully awake and alert -in my experience - a very long for this sort of thing.

I have to wonder... did that man on Ghostly Encounters who saw the skeleton and spectre as a child, experienced the same sort of thing that I always have, only his visions were more of the scary sort, than the fluffy? Maybe he just hasn't done any research, on line or otherwise, to find explanations for his bizarre visions?

And what about the true identity of the bunnie and unicorns I have seen? Are they more boogie than bunny? Am I am in serious denial? BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA!

Voices in the Wee Hours

A West Virginian woman posted something eerie on a paranormal website.

"One night after my husband and I went to bed I awoke in the middle of the night hearing what I thought was a female voice calling my name. I sat up in bed and looked at my clock it was 3am. I sat there for a minute and listened thinking maybe I was dreaming."

Strange, eh? Well just this morning on NPR's Morning Edition there is a story that warns of many kinds of ghosts from India, including this one that calls out your name...

"...But you have to watch out for the very dangerous nishi, who call people by name in the dead of night and lead them away, never to be seen again."

Ghosts - ghosts that call your name, take you out, then do unspeakable things to you AND get honorable mention on National Public Radio?

Oh big deal! Loads of times I have heard my name shouted aloud; disembodied voices calling to me in the wee hours of the night.

An example; I moved to Sacramento in 1990. Got myself an apartment in a fancy up-scale complex and if I were into labeling weirdness as paranormal, I would not be amiss to label that apartment as being mildly haunted. While living there, numerous times I would wake from a sound sleep, because I would wake, hearing a breathy voice whispering into my ear.

"Claire!"

Waking, there was no one there but me and my dog. And no, Chiquilla, my dog, never spoke.

At other times I woke, hearing my name called aloud from the living room. ‘CLAIRE!’

Did that cause me to worry about newly immigrant ghosts? Nawww... never once did I believe or think I was being called by a ghost, spirit or daemon, from here in Sacramento or anywhere else for that matter. I do admit, that whimsically, I refereed to the voices as my 'Angels'. Calling the voices such was just how I made reference to the calling in my personal journals; for literary purposes, there were playful angels messing with me.

In reality, I always presumed, and still do, that what I heard was not angels, but my own brain messing with me, a facet of my long history of abnormal dream sleep; a miss-firing of my brain's neurological circuits, my brain chemistry gone awry.

In my current home, 'angels' called my name only once or twice. Still, on a dozen or so occasions, I have been woken by the ringing/buzzing of an alarm clock, that I do not own, and is not in my house, much less my bedroom. I am saying that I am woken by a phantom alarm clock. Yes! Me! Allow me to explain.

My current alarm clock is my old Razor cell phone, which wakes me up to the ring tone of a pod of singing Orca Whales. Trust me - singing whales sound nothing at all like alarms, or buzzes. So I am not hearing the Orcas and thinking they are rings/alarms. And anyway, the alarms/buzzes wake me long before my old cell phone has a chance to sound out.

What happens is if I go to bed fretting about over-sleeping (an event I can say has happened maybe twice in my entire life), while I sleep, my subconscious runs through it's file cabinets of sounds-of-the-past, pulls up the exact sound of alarm clocks I have known and loved in the past, and then plays those sounds to wake me. The sounds that wake me on those 'oh so special' mornings, sound exactly like an electronic alarm clock going off in my room. I wake and wildly search for what is shrieking on my night stand - an annoying way to wake up, I can assure you.

So, currently, at least, there are no ghosts in my house; no spirits, daemons or angels. Only by reading information on-line did I realize, some people believe hearing their name called out when no one is there, means a ghost calling them. Ok, I know you can understand their logic - disembodied voice = ghost. But, the way I see it, either those frightened people are sadly mistaken. or perhaps... could it be... is it I who am in denial? BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!