Who is hanging in my house via the third realm?
Can I be honest? I did not watch any Alaska reality TV this week. I don't have anything reality-related for this newsletter. What I do have is 750 words about how I've never felt by myself in my home, even when I have been.
You either get it, or you don't. You've either had an experience that made you question reality as you know it, or you haven't. One isn't better than the other, but you might read this and roll your eyes, or fervently nod along.
I have always been a believer, maybe not in "ghosts," per se, but energy, yes. When we moved into our place, I felt something. Nothing nefarious, just a presence that I wasn't really alone in a room. If anything, playful is an appropriate description. I'll give you some examples. I have little knick knacks around the house. Lots of tchotchkes. Some Sonny Angels here, some Smiskis there. All of them are tacked down with museum wax, a putty that you use to keep your little guys upright (and stuck down during earthquakes). I've come into the living room in the morning to find little guys on the floor, far from the shelves they were occupying on more than one occasion. I checked the Alaska Earthquake Center, but no recordings.
I find screws everywhere. Not every day, but weekly. In window sills, on counters, on floors. I have found them in my closet. I've picked them up off the porch, in the produce drawer in my refrigerator, even in the bathroom sink. Places that I regularly clean or frequent, and I know are screw-free.
Etta has this whale toy for bath time. When you turn it on, the whale lights up, vibrates and blows bubbles when you put it in the water. It was on the kitchen counter for a few days since the batteries died, and I hadn't had a chance to change them. I was talking to Duncan, standing in the kitchen and with him on the couch, when the whale turned on and began vibrating and flashing on the counter. I looked at Duncan and smiled. He chalked it up to the batteries dying. I put the toy back in Etta's toy drawer in the living room.
A few days later, Ari came over. I was telling them about the whale toy turning on by itself, and as I shared, the toy turned on from Etta's toy drawer by itself. Ari turned to me and looked at me with eyes wide open 👁️👄👁️
There is something oddly comforting about it. It's nothing that feels heavy. Like I said, playful. It makes me wonder what, or who, is sharing the space with us.
The house I live in was built in 1985 and became occupied by a couple named Ingeborg and Clyde; Inge for short. Inge was Austrian. She married Clyde in 1950 and moved to the states. First, to Washington, DC, then Buffalo, NY, and Anchorage, where she lived until 2015. She played a lot of Bingo, and made a lot of friends in town. She lived in this house by herself for 23 years before moving to Malvern, Arkansas in 2015.
From her obituary: [Inge] often said, "I never thought I'd end up in Arkansas but the weather is so nice and warm here." Inge's sunny disposition and beautiful smile made her a favorite among the caregivers at Encore. She was always happy and was so thankful for everything the staff did for her. She died in 2018 at 93. Her ashes were sent to Fairbanks and interred with Clyde's.
There was a couple that lived here after Inge, but it was off and on, and both of them are still alive.
My friend stayed with us for a few weeks last month. When she was here, she had two dreams about a woman at our house. In the first dream, she told me there was a beautiful woman in our backyard, wearing a white coat that she and I were supposed to go out to meet. In the second, she was sitting on the couch looking out into the yard, where she saw an older woman sitting at a picnic table. I was in the dream, and told my friend we were going out to meet and have dinner with her.
That's Inge, I said.
