Somewhere In The Middle

Half of the time, I can’t remember the things I dream.  It seems like when I do remember them I’d wish I didn’t.  Yesterday was one of those days.  Maybe I watch too many horror movies or maybe I am just a disturbed person.  My dreams have been imbedded into my head.  What’s worse is they are happening in the state of sleep paralysis (half asleep/half awake) which can be outright terrifying.  

Yesterday, I was feeling exhausted around two in the afternoon.  I decided to lie down and take a nap before the kids came home from school.  I’m sure it was the snow that had crept into Oklahoma recently that made me feel so sleepy.  I curled up into the bed and nuzzled under the covers.  I dreamed I was taking a nap and woke up.  In my bedroom, there was an attic door on the ceiling that had been pulled down with the door extended.  In reality, there is only access to the attic up the stairs and it is a walk in attic.

In the dream, I was only slightly alarmed by the open attic.  I climbed out of bed and in my living room there was another attic on the ceiling with the ladder extended.  In the dining room, it was the same thing only the ladder had been broken into pieces on the floor.  The hallway closet was open.  It was the open closet that made my heart start to race.

I picked up my cellphone and dialed 911.  The operator was an idiot who I repeatedly gave my address to over and over again.  It was as if I was on a three-way call with the 911 operator and the police department.  I pleaded for them to send someone to my house and stated that someone is in here with me.

As I am pleading for them to help me, everything in my house turns on almost as if the electricity had been out.  The fans are spinning at their highest speeds.  The televisions and radios are all blaring loudly.  All of the lights came on at the same time.  At this point I look down the hallway and I noticed my son’s door begin to open and a shadow creeps out into the hallway.  I take off back towards my bedroom and into my closet where the safe room is located.  I make it into the room and slam the door behind me.  I manage to lock it as whoever it is stands on the other side trying to turn the knob.  I can see a shadow underneath the door.

Then I wake up, fully alert.  My heart is pounding in my chest.  I look at the clock and only about a half an hour has passed since I first laid in the bed.  Yeah, nap time was over.

Later that night after I sent the kids to bed, I climbed into my bed around 10:30pm.  I dreamed I woke up again and the bathroom door and closet doors were open.  Immediately, I felt startled.  I never sleep with doors open.  I heard whispering all around me and one by one I started to see these cloud-like, smoky images in front of me.  They appeared to have facial features and it looked as though they were whispering.  I tried to climb out of the bed but I was tangled in the covers.  I knew I was dreaming and was trying to get myself to wake up.  The whispers felt as if they were getting louder and louder.

I woke with a jolt and all at once there was silence.  I glanced over at the clock and thirty minutes had passed yet again.

Am I saying my house is haunted?  Not at all.  I do think something is weighing on my subconscious though.  Maybe I am being haunted by something like my own failure.  Who really knows though, right?  Maybe I just watch to many horror movies…

I Lost My Boarding Pass

My agnostic mind, although relieved the rapture did not transpire, was intrigued to say the least of the miniscule possibility of people “disappearing”.  Last night, I laid awake thinking about how awful it would be since my husband was on the other side of the planet. How would he get to us?


To say I have an over-active imagination would be an understatement. My mind journeyed through scenario after scenario. I’m the queen of the “what ifs”. Sometimes I wonder why I haven’t locked myself in a closet somewhere.


I called my mother and basically said, “Look. Although I think this is a crock of shit, I wanted to tell you good-bye… just in case I’m wrong.” As an agnostic, I do not claim to know what others are sure about.

As I said, I laid in bed thinking about how things would play out. I thought about if this god decided to take his flock and leave behind the rest of us how angry I would be if he didn’t take my children. What an asshole that would make him to punish the innocent because of my choices and beliefs…or lack thereof.

Also, I wondered what would happen to society. Would we crumble? Obviously something as major as the rapture would change life as we know it. That’s a no brainer but would civilization itself fail to exist? Would we live in a state of post “apocalyptica”…all because some “sheep” disappeared?

Then…of course…my brain turned to zombies. Shocking, right? Me? Zombies?

I thought about if just the souls of the “sheep” were raptured what exactly would be left behind? Lifeless bodies? Rotting corpses? Would these “souls” merely be the thing that makes us human in the first place? Would the rapture of these souls leave behind the living dead, violent…without any remorse? After all if those of us left behind are to be punished and tormented until the grand finale of existence than that would sure be how I’d fuck with folks if I was this god people are so set on selling their souls to.

That’s another thing…the concept of being “left behind” is ludicrous to me. Why would a god after mercilessly torturing his strayed flock allow them to still “accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior” to avoid eternal damnation? Does that sound stupid to anyone else? I mean, holy fuck! Who in their right mind would choose NOT to believe at that point?????? So, in other words…regardless of how you live this life post rapture you still get to go to heaven. You may just need to deal with a few minor setbacks like some plagues and shit.

Now some people are demanding a public apology from a one Harold Camping who started this rapture nonsense. I guess I’d feel the same way if I shared similar beliefs.  If I was a believer…especially if I was one of his followers I’d be pissed. Some people took this nonsense as gospel. As with anything, you’ve got your coo coo banana heads that take a small slice of crazy pie and turn it into a whole freaking bakery like this loco broad.



I leave you with this. It seems appropriate.



And if you would be so kind as to show me a little love that would be superb.

Don't Be A Drag...

Driving down the street the other day, I actually broke away from my IPod and clicked on the radio. That’s unusual for a few reasons. 1.) Music today, to me, (this is me being old) has lost a lot of its originality. Instead of being unique, they try to mimic and then one up their musical influences. Boring! I know this is nothing new but it just seems much more prevalent. 2.) The typical radio stations around here play the “hits” aka crap or country or Christian…also, crap. 3.) The few classic rock stations that I am able to get around here (and I use the term “classic” loosely since it plays songs from the 80s and 90s) are so static-y that half the time I don’t even bother.

My kids, on the other hand, are typically like any other generation. They think the “new” music is so amazing and original. I have to bite my tongue sometimes because they tend to get really offended when I insult their musical preferences. I have to remind myself that my parents probably hated my choices too.

My son has a pretty decent grasp of music…in my opinion…as in he likes many of the things that my husband and I enjoy. Although, he does like Katy Perry. Of course, he reminds me every time he sees the Addidas or Proactiv commercials that it’s just because she’s hot.

My daughter on the other hand has definite elementary school girl taste. She likes to listen to Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez, Justin Beiber, and Ke$ha (yes, the chick with a dollar sign in her name…how the fuck do you even pronounce that???). I don’t think this group is talentless. I just think that their songs lack substance. Counting Crows they are not.  Again, elementary school girl taste...I mean, I liked New Kids on the Block when I was her age.
There is a fourth reason I end up listening to the radio. 4.) I forgot my IPod at home. Oops!  This is exactly how I gotstuck listening to the radio this time.

So, yeah, the car ride…

We end up listening to this…


Oh, Gaga! Even though, you try to capture us with your shock and awe, I can’t help but feel like I’ve seen and heard this all before…most recently Madonna. To be more specific, isn’t “Born This Way” just an updated cross version of “Express Yourself” and "Vogue" anyway? Seriously, have you listened to this, Gaga?




I suppose it could be worse. It could be this.



I’ll just take this Friday. Thank you very much.



I’ll leave you with eight words of wisdom…

“Don’t be a drag, just be a queen.”

Well said, Gaga. Well said.

It's Scary In There

Last night, I had another weird experience. Part of me wants to blame my lack of sleep and, of course, my vivid imagination for the unusual dream. If you’ve been keeping up with my blog you know these sort of things are nothing to which I am a stranger. See here and here.


I had dozed off around 2-ish and woke up to a light tapping at my bedroom door and no it wasn't the Raven. This isn’t an unusual occurrence as I have two children that from time to time come to my room during the night because they have had a bad dream or what not. I have my kids trained to not walk into my room…to always knock first. This is just a precaution. I’d hate for my kids to see a nip slip or something. Who knows what happens when you rigamaroo (wiggle around) in your sleep?

“What do you want?” I said. No answer. I sat up and looked at the faint light streaming under the door. Normally there is a shadow there if one of the kids is standing on the other side. There was nothing. I'm not sure exactly what would be scarier...a knock, no shadow, and no answer or a knock, a shadow, and no answer.  The verdict hasn't come back yet on that one.  A shadow would mean there's a chance of a demon clown. 

I managed to convinced myself that I dreamed the knock but just to be sure I got up to go check on the kids.

Now, I love to watch scary movies and the whole time I was walking to the bedroom it was like a scene from a movie…slow motion of a hand reaching to turn a doorknob.

Enter Friday the 13th soundtrack here.



Even the walk across the house to their rooms was a bit surreal. When I peeked into their rooms, both of them were soundly sleeping. Even the dog was snoring, loudly I might add, curled up next to my daughter. So, I went back to my room and cozied back into the bed under the comforter. After a while, I fell back asleep.

In my “dream”, I was sleeping on my side when I felt a presence. I tried to roll over to see what was behind me. The presence seemed to put me almost in a half nelson. I fought with it to a point that I toppled off the bed and hit my head on my dresser. During the time I was wrestling with whatever it was, I must have sensed it was all a dream. I tried to convince myself to wake up, trying to will my eyes open.

When I finally managed to force myself awake it was around 4 in the morning, my heart was racing and my head ached. When I reached up to the spot throbbing on my cranium, I found a knot the size of a quarter. I had that fuzzy “I just woke up” feeling. Of course, in my experience that feeling is the same as the “I’ve been knocked unconscious” one.  I guess it's possible that I was thrashing my sleep and may have hit my head some way on the head board.

I tried to settle back down in my bed. Then I heard the familiar sound that always seems to accompany dreams such as these…the hoot of an owl. I looked out of my window to see if I could see the culprit. It took me a few moments to locate it in the darkness outside. I saw it as it in the tree as it turned its head around to face me. It seemed as if we made eye contact just before it spread its wings and flew away.

As I’ve stated a lot lately, sleep and I just aren’t getting along well right now. So just imagine my disappointment (also known as utter terror) when this event transpired and I was left on the verge of a panic attack in my bed trying to settle myself back down to sleep. My body and mind were just beginning to relax enough to drift back to Land of Nod when there was a knock at the bedroom door again. It startled me to a point that I nearly jumped out of my skin. It’s probably good that I had used the restroom just before climbing back into bed or I would have been changing the sheets.

This time when I called out, “What do you want?” My daughter answered back. She said she had a bad dream and wanted to sleep in my bed. How sad is it that I was relieved she wanted to sleep in the bed with me? I mean, good thing my seven year old is here to protect her scaredy cat mommy.

Butterflies in My Stomach

I have a feeling sleep will not be an option tonight. I am so anxious! The butterflies in my stomach have butterflies. Around 6 this evening I got a text from my husband letting me know that he was waiting to leave Dubai to head to London. His flight in Dubai was delayed but he said he should still make the connecting flight in London to Dallas. I REALLY hope so!! Once he gets to Dallas, he will have just one more connecting flight to get him home to me.


The scavenger hunt is still a go. I’m going to try to video tape it because family and friends want to see the kids’ faces when they see their dad. I will have to see if the camera holds a charge long enough for me to accomplish that. I can always use my phone as back up for pictures and video. I’m just not sure how well all that works…or HOW it works for that matter. I’m still learning.

Unfortunately, I need to go camera shopping. I brought the camera into the battery store to have the battery checked because it didn’t seem to be holding a charge. Of course, the battery needed to be replaced but also found out that the actual port where you plug in the charger is loose and that is also causing the camera not to charge properly. The new battery would run me $40 and the external charger (where you actually place the battery itself inside to charge) would also cost $40. I ended up passing on that because I can get a brand new camera for a couple hundred. It would be stupid to put out $80 for a camera that is over five years old.

Since I’m wired anyway, I am browsing my blog stats. Some of the things people search for on the internet can be disturbing. What’s more disturbing are the things that occasionally lead them here. This particular post has gotten my blog so many hits with people out there in cyberspace searching things like “big ass butt plug” and “red butt plug sex toy”. Someone out there has even searched for “words containing ‘-tastic’”. Apparently, people out there are also very interested in meth and that leads them here as well. I assume it was this post that lures them in.

Also, the universe hates a lot of people because many folks are searching for “the universe hates me” and since the universe hates me most of all, they find themselves here.  My contribution to Time Travel Month also came up in the search results for some.  I'm sure it's because I used the line "This is heavy, Doc." as my title.  “Streaming dad and daughter love” got someone here. I’m not sure WHY or what post reeled them in but I’m sure I don’t want to know what they were really looking for but I can assume they were disappointed.

The topic that seems to bring people here the most lately is this post. People want to know about Lancey Ray’s trial. I know I do. I have searched for information myself and have seen my blog show up in the search results. I’m ready for that man to be buried under the jail.

He’s a monster and his wife should be sentenced right along with him for not only not protecting her child but also participating in the beatings that eventually got so out of hand they took the life of a young boy who my son describes as funny and smart.

I guess I can also share this with anyone who finds themselves here because they are searching for information about Lancey Ray. In my latest search I did find that Lancey Ray is actually the adult son of a school superintendent in Social Circle, Georgia. You can read the article here. I will keep updating as I find more.

One last thing before I go...my daughter has sold 575 boxes of cookies. Just 25 more until she reaches her goal.

Now I am going to end it here. As I said before, don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me for a while. My honey will be home and I plan on being VERY busy.

This Is Heavy, Doc!

Lately I suppose with all this talk of Time Travel Month over at Nuclear Headache (not to be confused with the cheesier version) so fresh in my brain, I’ve been thinking about all the things I would say to the teenage version of myself. Of course, all this weighing on it not causing the universe to implode or me disappearing from photographs a la Marty McFly style.


First and foremost, I would tell my past self that the one guy I decided to lose my virginity to was (and will always be) a complete tool and waste of oxygen. AVOID by all means! I’m sure many of you wish you hadn’t wasted your first time on such an ass. I’m not saying I should have waited until marriage necessarily (please don’t tell my future teenage daughter) but I definitely would have skipped over his dumb ass. As a rule of thumb, if his name forms an alliteration it’s probably because his mommy knew he was a joke even from the womb.

Another tidbit of information I would share with myself is that even though your family is obviously a bag of mixed nuts, things won’t always be so difficult and confusing. Mostly mom won’t always seem so psychotic. She just has no clue what she’s doing and she’s learning day by day. It’s a bitch (especially when you are the oldest) but it paves the way for her to learn from her mistakes. Whether she admits it to you or not, she doesn’t mean half the shit that comes out of her mouth. Try not to take her need to control everything at whatever cost personally. It will only cost you years of therapy…time you could be spending doing things you actually enjoy.

Also, your mom is going to tell you that those girls that were mean to you were just jealous of you. Oh my god! They SO were. Your C-cup (ok, and the fact that you were so much cooler than they were) made you comparable to the hooker in the movie “Love Potion #9” after she drank the concentrated potion. This is what I mean…


So don’t be sad. Just poke your chest out a little further and apologize to them for not being flat chested like them…as you steal their boyfriends. Just kidding….or am I?

After you get married, there will be this Puerto Rican woman that lives near you. She is going to tell you she is a witch and she knows you and your husband are having issues mostly because he is still extremely immature. She’s going to tell you to never give up on him even when things get really dark. You are going to think she is crazy (and you may be a little right) but being a little eccentric is what makes her so clairvoyant. She is also going to tell you there will be times you will have to be a bystander and not get involved in his growing up process to protect your soul and that of your child (who by the way you weren't even pregnant with just yet). Her words will always stay with you and the future you (aka me) is glad she didn’t throw the towel in as soon as things got messy.

Somewhat on the same topic, I would remind myself that other people’s setbacks do not mold you unless you let them. When you go through those dark times, keep your head up and push forward. No one is going to drag you out the hole where you risk ending up. Only you can prevent forest fires. No, wait. What I mean is, only your own strength can prevent depression and it IS inside of you even when you feel weak.

Another thing on a smaller note I would share is that when my family is evacuating from Hurricane Katrina (which by the way IS the infamous Big One the city of New Orleans has been fearing and the media has been wringing their hands impatiently waiting for), remind Mom to bring the photo albums and family videos or at the very least put them up high in a closet. So many memories will be lost if she doesn’t. Also, tell her to knock down the wall between the dining room and the living room just because it will save us all the headache of having to hear about it years later that she should have did it when they were remodeling after the storm.

One of the last things I would tell myself is simply; don’t forget how to be a kid. Your children will thank you for it.


Again, these things are all quips of knowledge I’d share with myself if there wasn’t a chance of causing horrible repercussions. I’m sure in the event that time travel is made available to the likes of everyday folks such as me; we can only hope scientists will know for sure the do’s and don’ts of traveling through time.

If travel was limited to observation, I would skip my past and observe more important times in history not involving myself like the building of the pyramids. I’d much prefer for the sake of observation, I could also remain unseen a la Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Then, I would DEFEINTELY go observe me some dinosaurs. I would also like to observe all of the questionable “god” appearances that different religions stake their claim to faith on.

My Brain Is Slightly Undead

I’m not ashamed to admit that I have a vivid imagination. I always did and I’m sure I always will. As a child, I was the go-to person for all my friends if they wanted help bringing some outlandish make-believe game to life. Now days, rainy days are no match for my children when I’m around especially if there is a box large enough to climb inside. How I never got involved in role-playing games like Dungeons and Dragons I’ll never know. Oh, wait, yes I do. It was “demonic” according to the church my mother forced me to attend with her and god forbid; I went against the grain of the other sheeple and did something creative.

Lately, I’ve been making posts here and there about the weirdness in my brain such as my invisible stalkers and my feathered spirit guide. Today, I invite you to take another trip inside my mind’s eye into what happens when someone is obsessed with zombies. Yes, zombies. When you spend many days on end reading books, watching movies (and television shows thanks to The Walking Dead series), and visiting websites about zombies, it comes as no surprise when my gray matter concocts visions about the undead.

A few nights ago I dreamed that my kids and I were in New Orleans at my husband’s grandparent’s home. As we sat hanging out in the living room, the grandparents came out of their bedroom. Even in the dream itself, I was caught off guard by seeing Maw-Maw. My subconscious mind had registered that she was dead. In reality, she has been since April of 2010. What made this odd (even for a dream) is she looked vibrant and youthful like I had seen her in photographs from the 70s and early 80s. The kids, of course, ran to give her a hug. They were excited to see her and probably couldn’t wait for the spoiling to begin all over again. I don’t blame them.

On the other hand even my dream-self had to know how she happened to be there. I asked what the hell was going on. She sort of looked at me like she was surprised I wasn’t already aware. Then she proceeded to tell me that a few days ago Paw-Paw picked her up from the cemetery and began feeding her. Paw-Paw stepped forward. He looked worn and tired. Then, he showed me his arm.

Most of his forearm was a grayish color, giving him a Gollum-esque flesh tone. To keep her alive, he had been allowing her to feed off of him. The feedings were not a form of vampirism as she didn’t puncture his skin to drain his blood. In a sense she was a type of zombie but instead of ingesting the flesh, she was absorbing his life force or aura. In the dream, this was accepted as a form of science, mad science, but science nonetheless.

Upon waking from this mental vision, I believe somehow Keanu Reeves possessed me for second or two because all I could do was sound a drawn out “Whoaaaaaaaa.” Then I questioned if I took the red pill or the blue pill before bed. I’m going to guess it was the blue one.

Did Somebody Have A Bad Day At Work?

While we spent the holidays in New Orleans, I received a phone call from the homeroom mother from my son’s class. At the time, my mother-in-law, my kids, and I were at Chuck E. Cheese’s having a grand old time stuffing our faces with pizza as the kids blitzed around the place shoving tokens into games for tickets that they hoped would get them a prize off the top shelf. That’s right. They wanted top shelf shit!


The first time the home room mother called I didn’t even hear the phone ring. The second time I sent it to voicemail. I figured I could get back to her later since this was the last time the kids were seeing their Mimi before we left to head back to Oklahoma. Shortly after, I received a text message. It said:

“I just wanted to let you all know about the death of one of our kids’ classmate. Malik was beaten to death by his stepfather last week. He was in Ms. Taylor’s class. I just wanted to give everyone a heads up before school starts.”

This was not the text I was expecting to read. Not at all! I’m not real sure what I was expecting but I assure you this was not it. I was unable to contain my shock and I exclaimed, “Oh my god!” Of course, then those sitting near me wanted to know what was wrong. So I, being one of those people that lack the gift of tact, share the text with the table including my children. Unfortunately, I would have shared this with them even at Disney World on the Tea Cups because, hey, that’s life. I’m not good at sugar coating things.

For the next hour, my kids go about their business playing ski ball and token launchers. Everything seems to be normal.


Later when we arrived back at Paw-Paw’s house, things got real. Part of me hoped that the homeroom mother was confused and was just going on a false rumor but upon going to the KSWO website I found more reality than I was able to swallow. What I discovered was sad and it built up a sense of hatred for this man, Lancey D. Ray, pictured here,.

My son came into the room and we talked about it. I can only imagine how hard it was for his young mind to process this. The thought process in charge of making the connections between his friend and his parents and the fact that the kid was beaten to death by one or both of them must have been confusing and terrifying. Those were the people that were supposed to protect that boy, not end him.

My son went on to tell me about a time Malik came to school with bruises on his face. He had told my son and their other friends that over the weekend his family was play fighting. Another time, my son said he came to school missing a fingernail and he said he had smashed his finger in the door.

Now understand something, reader, we were in New Orleans. The last time we were there was in April 2010 for Maw-Maw’s funeral. Now we are back in her house eight months later finding out that someone else has died. As awful as this sounds, at least Maw-Maw died of cancer. It was something that made for many conversations with my children in an effort to better prepare them for when the time came that she passed away. When it came to Malik, there was no way in hell I could have prepared my child for that. NONE! Hell, it completely blindsided me. A couple of weeks earlier my son was picking out a gift for his friend and now just like that he was snuffed out like a lit candle.

That night, my son came into the room I slept in and he was crying. He said he missed Maw-Maw and he missed Malik. He crawled up next to me and I gave him a hug. Then he says, “Mom. What if I go to school on Monday and Malik is there?” I wasn’t exactly sure if he meant really there or as a ghost so I asked him to explain. He says, “What if it isn’t true and he isn’t dead?” So I told him I hoped it was all a lie too but I explained to him that I did read about it on the local news site. He asked to see it. I pulled it up for him.

After he read it, he cried a little and asked me why Malik’s dad did that to him. I told him I didn’t know for sure. What was I supposed to say to him? I have no idea what would possess someone to beat a child to death, to lose control like that. After awhile, I walked my son back to his room and tucked him back into bed.

After we made it back to Oklahoma, I read more about the horrible crime on KSWO. I found that Ray was accused of beating Malik with a leather belt and a cutting board that day because he wouldn’t eat his lunch. What’s worse was when it was released that the mother, the boy’s own flesh and blood, had also broken a piece of wood over his backside that same day.


At first, I must admit, I assumed mom, Denise, was a victim too. However, I do not think it excused her for allowing her child to be beat. First off, the step father was a soldier in the army which means he was gone frequently between deployments and trips to the field. She had the chance to escape that house with her children. Yes, there were two other younger children in that home, 5 and 6, which are now in protective custody. Thank goodness!

It also concerns me that no one at the school was aware of this. I mean, my son and his friends...10 year olds, noticed bruises. Why didn’t an adult?

The school board did put a counseling crisis team into place for the children and teachers at the school. On the Sunday before my kids returned to school, I encouraged my son to seek counsel. I told him it might help him get some closure to talk to someone other than me and his own head.

Later, he told me that he disclosed all the information about the bruises and the missing fingernail to the counselor. He said that the counselor’s told him that they would have to turn the information over to the police. The counselor met with me to let me know that there was a small possibility that my boy would be asked to give a statement and possibly testify in court with my permission.

It is really alarming what happened to Malik. I never had the pleasure of meeting him. Even though he lived around the corner, he was never allowed to play when my son went to call on him. My son said Malik was a good student and one of the top readers in the class.


My son’s last memory of his friend was the last day of school before winter break when Malik said, “Happy birthday!” and handed over a bag of popcorn he didn’t want. “It’s not my birthday.”, my son says. Then he says Malik said to him, “Well, take it in case I don’t see you for your birthday.” Later, my son would ask me if I thought maybe Malik knew he wasn’t coming back.

The poor kid has been having his sleep disturbed by dreams. He says sometimes he sees Malik in his room. Sometimes he says he dreams of him. He’s woken up a few times very upset and I have had to sit with him on the sofa trying to comfort his heart with soothing words and a listening ear. It’s not fun and hope fate gives me a break in loss for a while so that our family, especially my boy, can heal. The year 2010 was very sad for us with my husband’s grandmother passing away but it was even more difficult for my son with the passing of his friend. Hopefully, 2011 will be less trying.

The following is poem I have shared with my son. I found it after Maw-Maw died and it help to ease some of the pain in my heart. Being agnostic, I don’t necessarily believe in heaven or hell. I do believe that energy is constant and whatever is inside of us, I guess in a sense it’s your soul, it becomes one with everything else. As for the organic part of you, it too becomes part of everything else as in ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Are we clear? Yeah. I didn’t think so. Anyway…here’s the poem.

His Journey’s Just Begun
Author Unknown

Don’t think of him as gone away
His journey’s just begun
Life holds so many facets
This existence is only one
Just think of him as resting
From the pain and tears
In a place of warmth and comfort
Where there are no days or years
Think of how he must be wishing
That we could know today
How nothing but our sadness
Can truly pass away
And think of him as living
In the hearts of all of us
For nothing loved is ever lost
And he was loved so much.

RIP Malik Ray.
Your friend misses you.

Hopefully, I'll be able to do a brief update in March when Lancey D. Ray goes to trial and I hope that Denise Ray doesn't get out of going to trial as well.  We'll have to wait and see.

An update can be found here.

While Visions Of Owls Danced In My Head?

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I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching Me

Some people are believers.  Some people are not.  For once, I’m not referring to religion.  I am referring to the supernatural and the paranormal.  Always I have held a deep interest in the occult.  Something about the unseen and unknown gives me butterflies in my stomach.  It is a hunger that cannot be satisfied.

Today something unsettling happened that made me think maybe just maybe everything else is not a figment of my imagination.  I let my dog inside and told him to go lay down in his spot in the living room in front of the fireplace.  He seemed to be distracted by something off in my bedroom.  He lay down as he was told but in this almost Sphinx-like pose, head up straight, rigid posture.  His ears twitched a little but other than that he was very still.  He then began to growl very low as he continued to stare into the darkness of my bedroom.  You must know, for the most part, Deuce is a very silent dog.  Other than the snorting and slobbering sounds, he very seldom barks or howls much less growls.  So you can imagine my concern when he began to make his deep guttural complaints.

Moments later, I managed to build the nerve to walk in that direction.  He stood up but he did not come forward.  I stood in the doorway and called him over.  He refused to come.  He just stood there staring.  Outside, I could hear an owl hooting.  It sounded like it was in the tree outside my window.  (More about owls in a later post.)

That experience would have been weird all on its own but it got me thinking about other strange things that have happened, one thing in particular that happened early this morning.  Around 4ish this morning, I awoke fast and startled.  I had that feeling like someone was standing over me.  My heart was racing.  To say that I was shaken would be a total understatement.  I tried to rationalize things as I often do by telling myself that I must have been dreaming and since I woke up so quickly I wasn’t able to remember the dream.  I began to calm down.

Around thirty minutes passed and I began to settle back down.  Then there was a little knock at my bedroom door.  I was almost afraid to answer.  From my bed I called out, “Yes?”  To my relief I was answered by my seven year old daughter who said, “Mommy?  I’m scared.  Can I sleep in your bed?”

In hindsight, after the dog incident of course, I am wondering if any of these things mean anything at all or am I just making mountains out of mole hills.

When we first moved here to Oklahoma, on a few occasions I had that same feeling of being watched.  It happened very similar to how it took place this morning.  Only this particular time, it seemed as if I were in a half asleep/half-awake state.  I remember I felt paralyzed in my bed and unable to talk.  There were two male figures I saw with my peripheral vision.  Each figure stood on either side of the bed.  One appeared to by heavy set while the other appeared to be thin.  Both seemed tall.

On numerous occasions, I felt the fat man and the skinny man’s vacant stares.  One time I could swear that the skinny man actually punched me in my side and pinched my shoulder.  I woke up the next morning sore in those two spots.  Other times when I’ve seen them they were standing in front of my closet but always staring.   You know, I say “staring” but the truth of the matter is they are silhouettes so I can’t really make out facial features.

I’d like to say that these sorts of things are limited to Oklahoma but the truth is experiences like these happen every so often.  Most often they take place when I’m not sure if I am awake or asleep.  Of course, the logical person in me wants to brush it off as simply a case of having a vivid imagination.  However, the creative and imaginative side of me takes solace in the “what ifs” of life and embraces the unseen.

As I’ve said, I’m no stranger to weird happenings.  Luckily for me, being that I’m a scaredy cat and all, I do not “see dead people” like in the movie The Sixth Sense.  I’m not ashamed to admit I do not like the dark…at all.  There is something about not being able to see into the shadows that eats at me.  I can send myself into a panic attack just by thinking about what a shadow could be or what a noise may be.  The scary part is always “what if” I’m right.

So, yes, I can be a baby but as I said strange things have taken place…

In Texas a few years back, we were living in post housing.  I was lying in my bed reading.  I looked over the top of my book at the metal closet doors that were pretty common in the housing community that I lived in.  There were faces pressing against the metal as if they were on the inside trying to push their way out.  The best way to give you a visual is imagine places a plastic bag over a doorway so that it is pulled tight.  Then the person on the other side presses their face and hands against it almost like they are push through plastic.  That is what it looked like.  As I said, my closet doors were metal.

As if the faces in the closet weren’t freaky enough, on another occasion in the same house I woke up to people in my room around my bed.  They weren’t flesh and blood people.  They were completely transparent almost like a bubble but I could make out features on them.

At the time, I was seeing a therapist, who had put me on Ambien.  The next session I described the bubble people and the closet faces to my therapist.  I requested to be taken off of the Ambien.  Even if those things are there, I don’t think I want to see them although I think the Ambien caused mild hallucinations.

Think I’m weird yet?  Well, so do I sometimes.

Most times, I’m half asleep when things happen but every so often things have happened when I am fully lucid and there are people around me.  It’s those times I am thankful.

Years ago, I rented my grandfather’s house while he lived with his second wife in her home.  The house I rented was the house he lived at with my grandmother who had passed away many years ago.  I chose the master bedroom for myself and put my son in the bedroom next door to mine.

The very first night I stayed there my younger sister who was about 11 or 12 at the time stayed with me.  My son had stayed by his grandparents for the night.  As we laid there in the dark trying to sleep, the bedroom door swung open.  It opened with such force; the door hit the wall and bounced halfway back.  My sister and I looked at each other almost to reassure ourselves that the other saw the same thing.  I got up and closed the door, making sure it had closed all the way this time.

My sister and I were a little shaken and as we talked about it I tried to calm her by saying the air conditioner must have kicked on and caused that.  I honestly wanted to believe it myself.  Eventually she went to sleep.

I laid there in silence and my logical side was slowly losing the battle.  The more I thought about it the more my mind tried to piece it all together.  Normally, when the a/c clicked on if the door was partially open it would suck close.  I tried to remember if one of us actually closed the door.  I could not remember either of us closing it all the way.  Then I thought of my grandmother.

After my grandmother died, my mother referred to her as my guardian angel.  So I always pictured her as such, except my guardian angel grandmother had a More Menthol in one hand and Dixie Beer in the other.  Prior to her death, my grandmother gave me a holographic picture that showed two children walking across a bridge, hovering over them was a beautiful angel.  I still have the picture.  It is now above my daughters bedroom door.

There’s one of those “what ifs”.  What if she came into her bedroom trying to see who was there?  After that I thought maybe she didn’t know who I was since she passed when I was 3.  So I began to have little conversations with myself out loud on and off.  I would walk around saying things like, “Maw Maw it’s me, Ashley Denice.”  Sometimes, I would be rocking my son to sleep and I tell her out loud who he was.

A few weeks later, my sister slept over again.  This time through the baby monitor, we heard a woman singing.  We could also hear my son awake, not crying just awake and at ease.

I never felt afraid in the house.  I just felt like I wasn’t alone.  One night, although I did not feel threatened my husband did.  At the time, we were separated.  He was there even though my grandfather had declared he was not welcome.

While I was sleeping, I awoke with the familiar feeling of someone standing over me.  I felt paralyzed.  I was unable to open my eyes or speak.  The next morning before I could tell my husband about my weird “dream”, he began to tell me about someone standing over him during the night.  He said that someone had pushed down on his chest almost like someone was sitting on him.  He said it was almost as if he was pushed right through the bed and box spring onto the floor.  He said he felt a suffocating feeling and he felt paralyzed and unable to fight back.  I stared at him for a few minutes without speaking because I was blindsided by his story.  Eventually, I did and for once my uber logical spouse actually seemed to genuinely believe me.

I’m not about to sit here and write about each and every time anything strange or unusual has happened to me or around me.  I tried to focus on the most recent or most significant.  I hope you enjoyed my “sharing” session.