That time I got that batshit crazy email...
I’m sorry I haven’t gotten back to you sooner. I’ve been busy with my two jobs and kids. When you get to know me, you’ll find that I’m a nice guy (I hope), I’m considerate, I’m caring. The last thing I’d want to do is hurt your feelings.
What I’m about to write you will sound unbelievable, and, I didn’t believe it myself, until I experienced it. You might think I’m crazy, and I might be. However, I succeeded in high school and got a college degree. I think I’m pretty sane…
I’ve been dating M for around 8 weeks. The past two weeks have been unlike anything I could have ever imagined.
Around two weeks ago, we were having “adult time” and during a climax, she had what I can only explain as the most intense orgasm EVER. Floods of images flipped through her mind in rapid succession. I may have asked you about it, if you had ever had anything like that happen. Some of the images were seemingly random…a mushroom cloud, a roaring lion, the solar system…some had a personal topic…a co-worker in a green shirt, a bump on her daughter’s head, my youngest with short hair, and several others. Each image was accompanied by an emotion – pain, ecstasy, sadness, jubilance. I wrote down several of them, just for fun.
The next day, I took my youngest to get his hair cut, at my ex’s request. She wanted just a trim, but I didn’t know, I let the dresser cut it to her own liking. All his curls were gone. His hair was short, and I hadn’t told M I was going to have it cut.
Her daughter came home from school a day later with a bump over her eye. She hit it on a jungle gym.
Sure enough, the same co-worker she dreamed about told her he recently bought a green sweater to wear to work.
It was uncanny…surely a coincidence. I thought about it, but didn’t think much.
The night after her big O, she had another experience in bed, well, several. This time, they weren’t stills flipping through her brain, they were “visions”. She felt like she was drowning, she described the water, the bubbles floating up, not being able to breathe…and yes, after her vision she began gasping for air and coughing violently…not the kind of afterglow we normally share. Her next vision was of me in a car accident, t-boned on an ice slicked road, airbags deployed, car is totalled…but I survived. It was harrowing…I expected her to be on cloud nine as she came, but, no, she thought I was injured when she snapped out of it. “Are you OK? Are you OK?” She was crying.
Her third vision was of herself inside a woman looking through her eyes. She was lying down and looking into the eyes of an angry, angry man. She felt as if she was going to die. The man held a knife. That night she went home and dreamt of the same scenario in great detail. She described to me the man’s face, his beard, his hair, his complexion, what the room looked like, some mail on a table that had the number 325. The feeling of fear to her was palpable. She felt like she was going to die by this man’s hands.
The next day M was sick, she called off from work and spent hours online combing through news reports of stabbings. That night, she showed me a story and said, “That’s her.”
http://www.wbaltv.com/news/police-make-arrest-in-connection-with-glen-burnie-homicide/26019592
Sure enough, the picture of the perpetrator matched her description entirely. We wrote a letter to the woman’s son (we found him on Facebook) explaining her last wish…that the heroin found on her was not her own, that she had befriended the murderer and hoped to help him back on his feet by paying him to help her clean the building she was in (notice the address. She was trying to be clean for her granddaughter and wanted her son to know before she crossed over.
I couldn’t believe that she wasn’t telling me the truth. I couldn’t believe it was the truth, however.
While I had genuine feelings for M, I didn’t want to fall for her. I’ve only been separated for about 7 months, and I was enjoying my new found freedom. So, I found ways of getting out of it. I told her that I was talking to other people. I told her that I would probably end up having sex with someone else. And, surprisingly, she was reluctantly somewhat OK with it. Not happy, but OK. She understood I wanted my space, my freedom, my independence.
M began to open up to me about her life, her incredible life. She told me she has always had the ability to see dead people. Her mother left her when she was two, leaving her father to raise her. He is a man’s man, nothing feminine about ol’ Wayne at all. It was a difficult upbringing for her. She was visited regularly by three spirits; a young girl she could play with, an old man who never spoke, and a middle aged woman, Mrs. K., who would act as her mother, comforting her, teaching her to read, acting as the mother she never had. Mrs. K. told her she had a gift, and taught her about the spirit world.
This is not a gift she wants. She doesn’t talk about it to anyone. Spirits appear to her at her home, while she’s on the potty, as she’s dressing, they jump in the backseat of her car and scare her half to death. She wants to be left alone to take care of her kids. It’s something she has kept within herself for a long, long time.
The reason I was on Tinder was to meet someone for casual sex. It worked; I found someone in Durham (sorry, it’s closer than Holly Springs!). The second time I saw her, and told M about it, she was devastated. She doesn’t understand that meaningless sex is meaningless sex, regardless of if it’s with the same person or not. She hit rock bottom. She showed up at my place drunk, wanting some things she had left. I was furious she was driving around drunk. I took her keys and started to drive her home. A block away she got out, against my will and would not get back in the car. She wanted to continue drinking, so I said I’d take her out, just to get her drunk ass off the sidewalk. We went to a place on Main St. across from Devine’s next to the Funeral Home (of all places). We played pool. She calmed down. We talked. We talked about why I needed to see other people. We talked about why I couldn’t believe her.
I’m a bone head. I’m stubborn. I’m a thinker. I’m analytical. I’m a realist. While I couldn’t believe she could make this stuff up (there are so many other stories I don’t have space to write about), I just needed proof. Something beyond a shadow of a doubt that would make me believe, to see something, to have something move across a table, to feel a cold breeze…anything I couldn’t explain away. I asked her to use a Ouija board with me. She almost burst into tears explaining that she swore to God she would never, ever, use one again (there is a story to that, too). All of sudden she got an idea.
She wrote down a name and a date. She said it was the name of a lady she saw almost every time she rode to work. The lady waved to her from a cemetery by the side of the road. She didn’t show it to me; she folded it up and asked me not to look at it; I slipped it in my pocket.
The next morning, we went to the cemetery. M walked one way, then another, seemingly guided to a specific tombstone. She pointed to the name and asked me to look at the paper. As I unfolded it and read, I instantly knew she wasn’t kidding. The name and date of death were a match. And I know, because of the ability, cemeteries are the last place on earth she would hang out at, she didn’t pass this place by, memorize a name and date, just to pull one over on me.
The spirit of this lady, Sandy, was not there. However, M saw another, Josie. Josie died in childbirth in the 1930’s. We found her tombstone. M said we needed to look for a little girl’s tombstone named Haddie for some reason. After scraping off some moss, we did, indeed, find it, also.
M began calling for Haddie in the woods near the cemetery. Said she loved to play hide and seek. She couldn’t get Haddie to come to her, so she went to her car and grabbed a toy for her 2 year old. Using the toy, she coaxed this little toddler out of the woods. Holding her hand, I saw M walk this child from the trees into an open area in the cemetery. I didn’t see any spirits, I only prayed and prayed and prayed. Tears were streaming down my face. The child wanted to take the toy across. “No,” M said, “You can’t” She hugged her and I watched M’s eyes follow the child and Josie walk into the light.
Haddie had drowned to death. Hence, M’s vision of drowning. She didn’t cross over, but played hide and seek in the cemetery since 1897. When Josie’s time to cross over came at her funeral at this church, she noticed a little girl in the woods. Being a mother, or, soon to be mother, she couldn’t leave the child behind. The two were playing hide and seek since 1933.
I can’t tell you the emotions I felt at this time. It’s indescribable. Nothing I have ever been a part of has meant so much, I mean, maybe only the birth of my kids, but, nothing else even comes close.
Since that time, I have witnessed M cross over a number of others. Each and every day brings some new revelation, some new meaning where there was none. I’ve been a part of a long conversation she held with a spirit who didn’t wish to cross; that conversation has allowed me to understand many things about the relationship M and I share.
When I started texting you, Sandy, to be honest, I just wanted your body. And, yes, I still do, we’d have a great time. I just…I don’t want to string you along. I’ll be more than happy to be your friend. With the distance between us, my constrained time, and my involvement with M…I guess I can’t do much more than to be your friend. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you already in any way.
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