Death & Afterlife
Note for the Reader: My ability to recollect events and imagery from the past is better than the average person. I have an extremely vivid autobiographical memory but can’t remember where I put my keys!
Looking back on my pre-teen years, I can’t recall the first night I encountered an apparition, and equally, I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t witness to such strange things.
As a child these occurrences became part of my life, but were certainly not invited and most were unwelcome.
I wrongly assumed just because I was privy to things that went bang in the night, other people were too. Of course, I began nattering on to the family adults, who basically told me my imagination was getting the better of me. I was not deterred and decided that when I grew up I would never discount what a child had to say just because my viewpoint was different.
If adults weren’t open to these supernatural matters, surely my own kind — kids — would be?
The next thing I knew my mum was called into the school after a few parents complained, saying I had scared their children with ghost stories, and now they were having trouble sleeping.
‘Lightweights’ I thought. Frightened by a mere retelling. They should try being me at night. That would really give them something to moan about.
Shadows in the Night
A frequent peculiar visitor was one of what I believe many now call shadow people.¹ Although these did not appear out of the corner of my eye, but manifested right in front of me or standing at the side of my room during the night. They were dark, dense and looked like badly-drawn shadows, moving extremely swiftly. In the time it took me to run to the other side of the house, jump into bed with my parents and look up, they would be there again.
In my experience, these guys appeared alone or occasionally in pairs. They were not location-dependent. I often stayed during school breaks at my Aunt and Uncle’s house, and the shadow entities would come for the holiday too.
These spectral figures didn’t appear to be friendly. Once or twice they managed to throw some toys across my room and on another occasion let out a most blood-curdling noise.
I dreaded night-times and mostly slept with the lamp on. Indeed, that was when I discovered that even if I couldn’t always see them, I would hear them. Once or twice I also experienced being touched.
I certainly felt I was being taunted in some way, and whenever I showed fear they seemed to become more menacing. I spent a lot of time sleeping under the covers, so I would neither see nor feel them. A habit which has never left me even to this day. I decided it may be a good idea for me to marry as soon as I was old enough — so I would never have to sleep alone.
The shadow spirits emanated negativity. I assumed they were lost souls of some kind. Angry, and radiating animosity. As time went on, I wasn’t sure if I remained scared of them or had actually started feeling sorry they had not gone to heaven, or wherever happy dead folk were sent.
Aware of Death
Around then, I started being able to smell or sense death.
The first time was my great Aunt. She called me over to sit on her lap and I was bothered by a stench, instinctively knowing she was nearing the end. I had been raised with good manners, so I didn’t say a word but made myself scarce at the first opportunity. About a week later, mum said the old lady had died. Which was no surprise to me, of course.
I wasn’t too enamoured with this skill, however, it meant I understood more than most kids about the connection between living and dying; two stages of the same cycle. I also noticed those aware of death reflected on its counterpart — life — when making choices involving complex things, such as morals and belief systems.
When I was nearly ten, a beloved uncle mentioned he had a sore throat so was retiring to bed early. As he walked past, my breath caught and a chill came over me. Immediately, I knew he did not simply have the common cold. Rather, something which would eventually kill him. It gave me zero satisfaction and years of heartache and grief to accept I had known of his fate, as well as being deprived of his love and presence as I became a woman.
Energies
I have already written about how I was with my mother when she had what some would call an Empathic Death Experience.² Briefly, at around the time dad died about a hundred miles away, my mum caught sight of him walking along our garden path and proceeded to rush around opening doors and calling out his name. He wasn’t there, but with my short — yet relatively full-history of apparent visions of the afterlife, I didn’t need to be persuaded that his spirit or energy had chosen to visit our house at the moment he passed.
This added another dimension to my growing catalogue of afterlife knowledge. It made me aware the amount and type of energy a person creates in their lifetime was something to be reckoned with. And was perhaps the reason not all beings pass immediately — or completely — to the next stage of existence when they die.
Not only that, I sensed a conflict between what I perceived as positive and negative spirits. The shadow people seemed to almost suck vigour from me. Or perhaps it was because at times I had been too disturbed by them to actually sleep, and became wearied.
Angels in my Room
I want to finish with an amazing encounter I had with three radiant souls who chose to shine a light for me along my life’s way.
My brother was staying over at a friend’s house, so mum suggested I sleep in his room. Of course, I eagerly agreed, as my own often became too active for me to rest peacefully.
During the night, I woke and peeped out from under the blanket to check if it was still dark outside. Although mum had turned on the side-lamp as normal. And I could hardly believe my eyes…
There — standing next to my bed — staring down on me were three beautiful young women. Two on my left side and one on the other; their smiles, so kind and reassuring. They were not shadows — rather almost as solid as you or me, similar to the header picture except I saw them in colour.
For a moment my pulse quickened, only to be calmed by the tranquil look in their eyes, dispelling any fear I felt and actually lulling me back into a deep sleep. They were watching over me. I was safe.
Past History
Shortly afterwards, I remember reading that you could ask for spirits not to bother you. Being brought up as catholic, I prayed to Jesus, begging him to take away my extra sight. I have to say — going forward — I was rarely troubled by ghostly apparitions. Until I had my own children. That’s another story.
However, because of those childhood visions the echo of death always remained a pervasive presence in my life, although mostly only loitering on the fringes of my thoughts.
Much later, I recognised that the three vibrant young spirits by my bedside had sported hairstyles and clothes from the 1930/40s. Which intrigued me enough to research the history of my childhood home. I learned that the town where I was brought up had been heavily bombed during the Blitz of World War Two. Indeed, I actually recalled playing as a very young child in a field to the side of my house, where the wreckage of destroyed buildings were still visible. I learned that two high explosive bombs fell on that exact location sometime between 7th October 1940 to 6 June 1941.
Open Minds
Of course, I shouldn’t make assumptions, but I think it is possible my childhood hauntings occurred as a result of civilian lives needlessly lost during the second world war. Restless souls.
Or, perhaps the origins of the enduring, shadowy figures dates back even further. I expect many would dismiss them as being part and parcel of a child’s vivid imagination. However, I urge you to keep an open mind because you never know when you will need it.
Looking back, I feel for the young me — a fearful little girl. I want to tell her that everything happens for a reason and just because others don’t believe you, does not mean your truth isn’t as worthy as theirs. As a consequence, I am more playful nowadays than I was all those years ago, and… I can still remember what it was like to see through a child’s eyes.
You can find the memoir about my mum and her empathic death experience — by clicking here.
References:
1] Shadows: https://psychonautwiki.org/wiki/File:Shadows.jpg
2] Empathic and shared death experiences: https://www.themonastery.org/blog/the-mystery-of-empathic-and-shared-death-experiences
Another story you may enjoy with childhood at its heart by
This is amazing, May!
I know exactly where my keys are...wait...no! 😁
I'll sleep with one eye open tonight.