Unseen Resident – Part 13

Even though this is Part 13, a notoriously unlucky number, this time my post is of a positive encounter.

 

As always, if you have been away for a while or are new to the Unseen Resident blog, I would recommend reading the previous blogs:

 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 6A, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

 

Since our clearing after Thanksgiving, we have had some much needed quiet. That’s not to say that we haven’t had visitors, because we have…just not the mischievous or negative entities we’ve had in past. My sister is far more sensitive to the unseen residents and visitors than I am, but even I can feel that we are not alone.

 

In mid January, someone came to visit me. I could feel the air shift, but I only noticed it because both dogs alerted me to the presence. I was on my bed working on my laptop with one of my dogs, Flynn, resting beside me and the other, Bailey, sitting on her normal perch by the window. Flynn’s wagging tail caught my attention. Assuming that he had brought a ball for me to throw for him, I reached out for the toy. I was surprised that he didn’t have a toy and wasn’t even looking at me. Instead, he was looking at the bedroom door. Bailey, too, was looking towards the open door. Like synchronized swimmers, both dogs swiveled their heads towards me, as though watching something move from the doorway to my shoulder. Together, their heads moved back to the door and back to my shoulder, all the while their tails continued to wag.

 

I don’t know if they both lost interest at the same time or if whatever they were watching left, but after a minute or so, the spell seemed to be broken. They looked at each other and curled up in their normal positions.

 

The visitor wasn’t done with me, though. I didn’t feel or see anything unusual for the rest of the day and night, but I was awoken in the wee morning hours. Someone was gently stroking my hair. There was no scent of roses or cigarettes that I associate with my mom, but my gut feeling was that it was a motherly figure. Could it be my Aunt Rosemary who passed last year?

Even though it was a comforting touch, I’m not usually in the best frame of mind when I’m awoken in the middle of the night. Without shifting my position, I not-so-gently told the entity to leave me alone. In hindsight, I wish I’d treated the visitor with compassion…but anyone who wakes me up had best expect the mean Eileen to surface.