The Ghost , Quija, and Grandpa

As a young  child, I always slept  with my door shut. Later,  when I was a  teenager, I believe I found out why.  I was fourteen years  old, and I usually  went  to bed around  nine o’clock. I shared my room  with my older brother Jake.

I awoke one morning  at around five o’clock. As I looked  up,  I  saw a white, glowing  figure of a man coming  into my bedroom. I looked  on for a moment, then quickly shut  my eyes tight and rolled onto my side. I was afraid, and hoped  that   he’d leave.

As I lay there, I could  feel his  presence standing over me,  I could  actually hear  heavy, shallow breathing coming from him. It seemed like hours passed before the alarm  went off.

I mentioned nothing to my brother at first. I didn’t really  believe in ghosts, and neither did the rest of my family.  Anticipating their reaction, I changed my story a little before  I told  them. I described  the whole event as a dream.

I must  admit I was  surprised to hear my  mother  say that she also had the  same dream.  She calls it a dream to this day,  and say it still goes on.

My wife Sue also had strange encounters. I told her  of the ghost I had seen- the ghost  who still  haunts my parent’s house. She decided to ask a  Quija board who  the  ghost was and  what  he wanted.

I watched  for a couple  of hours as she  asked questions and wrote down answers.  The board  never identified the  ghost, but to our shock, my grandpa Jake came through,  mentioning things that my wife couldn’t have known. Jake died in 1984, long before  Sue and I had  met.

One thing startled us especially. Jake mentioned that  I  was going to carry on the family name. We looked  at each other in awe, and she put the board away. A month  and a half  later, we found out that

Sue was  pregnant-just as the board told us  she was. There was no  way either of us  could know she was  pregnant then, Nine months later, in October of 1998, our son Seth Mitchell was  born.

We’ve  never  tried the Quija again,  but I am now a  firm believer in the afterlife.

Brian Slabe

Ilion,  New York

 March  2000

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