Many people who claim to see ghosts are usually dubbed weirdoes by non-believers. I have never visited a fortune teller (though I have had my tarot cards read), and I don’t follow my daily horoscope (though I do know all the signs of the zodiac). I have, however, always believed in the possibility of a spirit world. I am not so narrow-minded to believe that living beings are the only energy source in the universe. But until last night, I had never claimed to have seen a ghost.
First, a bit of back story:
In 2008, my cat, Pluto, died from a sudden onset of diabetes that ravaged his organs in one month’s time. He was only four years old. His sister, Isabel – a black-and-white like her brother but with longer hair and a whiter face – was left behind and eventually had to learn to tolerate a new sibling kitty. Although it took me a long time to get over losing Pluto (those of you who are owned by cats will understand perfectly), I’ve moved on.
Then came last night.
I was in the home office organizing things when I pulled out one of the computer chairs and discovered a shocking sight. There, lying beneath the desk was Pluto.
For what seemed a full second, we locked eyes; Pluto was that kind of cat who would look right into your soul. I saw his full form and remember hearing myself say aloud, “Oh!” as I thought, There you are. I was wondering where you’d gone. I distinctly remember seeing his short black hair and full black face.
But in that same frozen second in time, my brain processed reality and thought, But he’s dead. A well of tears filled my throat and I felt the pressure rise to my sinuses until the tears poured out my eyes.
I forced myself to blink, and then I saw Isabel. I saw her long hair and asymmetrical white mustache.
I backed up, disbelieving what I knew to be true; Pluto had been there. For one second last night, Pluto came to me. And then he was gone.
As I sat on the other computer chair and cried, Isabel came out from under the desk and tried to make nice to me, purring and begging to be petted. But I didn’t want to touch her. I wanted to figure out what had happened, what exactly I‘d seen, why my brain had played tricks on me. But I had no answers.
I can’t tell you that I suddenly believe I can see dead spirits, but I can tell you that what I saw last night was real. The image was vivid and the energy intense. So intense that it took me over half an hour to calm down. (Isabel, on the other hand, seemed undaunted at the notion of having momentarily been possessed by her brother.)
You may think I’m nuts, but I’m a writer…artists are supposed to be a bit insane, right? That kind of eccentricity is supposed to be charming, I hear. But I’m not sharing this story to be charming. I just feel it’s a story I need to get out.
Anyone else out there ever crossed paths with spirits? I, for one, will never say never when it comes to ghosts and the reality of what we cannot see.