As I mentioned in the first installment of the Get Spooky series, I have a couple personal ghost stories to share. These events are truly dear to me, simply because how irrevocably unexplainable they are for me. Up until this point, I haven’t shared them at all, except with a select few people. In fact, the story below is one that I only shared with my husband Jay until now. Why am I sharing this personal story with you then? Simply, it just feels like time to do so. I guess I’ve come to a point where I want to put a timestamp on these events and what better place than on my blog? So here’s my first story, “The Second Last Stop”.
The Second Last Stop
I guess I should preface this story by saying I have an uncle, named Tom (not really, but for this post he will be named that way), who was just… intermittently there, while I was growing up. I didn’t have much readily in common with him, except for maybe one thing. I admired his career. He worked in an industry that I was fascinated with, and thought at one point, I’d end up there with a similar career as well. But, that’s about it. He even had some lifestyle choices that I wholly didn’t agree with, though as a kid, I never made a fuss about it (mostly, because I didn’t know how to.) I would speak to him with the respect I was taught to show to elders, but I never went out of my way to simply hang out with him.
So that’s why, what happened six years ago at the tail end of May 2009, was so very weird to me.
I woke up on a Saturday morning in absolute tears, I was flat out balling from a dream I just had. And well, that’s not normal for me. It’s in fact, never happened before, and hasn’t happened since. As far as I can tell, I’m not one to make noise when waking from a nightmare. So, to wake up crying, and making an utter wet mess of my pillow, was something new.
My dream was of my Uncle Tom. I hadn’t seen him in actual life for years at that point, as he was divorced from my aunt, so there wasn’t even be the annual Thanksgiving dinners for him to show up to any more. In my dream, we were at a bus station and he walked up to me and gave me a hug. He said, “I know we haven’t talked much, but I gotta go, I have to say goodbye.” We kept hugging, and weirdly I didn’t want to let go. I asked him, “Why? Why are you leaving like this?” and that’s when I started to cry in my dream (and judging by my pillow, outside of my dream as well.)
If this moment at a bus station had happened in real life, I would have said, “Have a great trip. Travel safely.” Or something along those lines. I certainly wouldn’t have been clinging, almost begging him to stay.
And that’s where I woke up, finding those tears in my dream were actually real and making my face wet. It took me over half an hour to shake away the sobs and depression that I felt all over. I was so confused, and flabbergasted at myself for feeling such immense hurt from an uncle that I don’t usually think of, unless I’m talking to one of his sons or my aunt. I started to think it through and convince myself that I must have had to somehow say goodbye to him, even if only in a dream, since I hadn’t seen him since well before their separation occurred. It didn’t make much sense, but it was the best I could come up with.
Once I felt more at ease, I walked down the stairs from my bedroom to the kitchen, only to be stopped on the way by my mother. Its not an uncommon thing, she’d usually brief me on what tasks she wanted accomplished during the day, so I didn’t think anything strange about it, until she pulled me over and started to whisper.
“You’re the first I’m telling of your siblings; your Uncle Tom passed away last night.”
I think I said, “Um, okay.” as I was quietly freaking out over this huge coincidence.
How is it, that after perhaps a year of not even randomly thinking of my uncle at all, I dream of him saying goodbye, only to learn that he’s well and truly gone that same morning?
I started to wonder if I overheard the phone-call my mom no doubt had that morning, but that’s such a highly improbable feat all on its own. The only way that could have happened is if my mother was speaking to my aunt, while in my room, and my door was locked. She would never come into my bedroom with the phone in the first place, like ever, it just didn’t happen.
So, was I visited by my uncle’s spirit before he moved on? Did I have some extended experience beyond Jung’s Collective Unconscious theory?
I have absolutely no clue.
What I do know is that I still physically shake while thinking about it, which has made typing this out an interesting exercise.
Great Canadian Ghost Stories
There are a ton of great ghost stories to be found online, and our favourite Ranting Ginger has compiled a great list of ghost stories from Canadian Bloggers, including posts from Life on Manitoulin, Mama Bear’s Haven, Whispered Inspirations, and more! I would entirely encourage you to check them out.
Do you have a ghost story? I would love to hear your experiences, so please share them in the comments below!