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Aunt Molly's Haunted Attic

Aunt Molly's Haunted Attic

Updated Halloween, 2000!

Under Construction...

(A beautiful old East Texas graveyard...)

Hello, Friends...

I have always been psychic since I was a little girl. (I think being part Native American has something to do with it. It seems Native Americans are historically known to be "natural sensitives". I think it is because their instincts have been honed to not only forces in our natural world, but cosmic forces as well...for survival purposes. Modern culture has ignored all these influences. Native Americans never stopped "listening", so their skills are more acute?) It seems my family is "sensitive" too, in that way, especially my mom, brother, niece and daughter. They seem to be extraordinarily psychically linked....(more? click the link below...)

From the desk of Aunt Molly...

Below are a number of ghost stories I've collected over the years. Enjoy!

With Love,

Aunt Molly

10-2-00: Ghost Story, "Open Door Policy"


Me in 1975...

Added: 7/12/00

A year or so after I graduated high school, I went to a 7-11 one day to pick up a bottle of champagne for a shower I was going to. I ran into this guy, we'll call him "R", who had teased me and teased me about my big ch*-chi’s in school. He sat by me in band, and teased me so much, calling me "Elsie the Cow" that I quit the band over it. As I was standing in front of the wine cooler at the 7-11, he came and talked to me. He had been the class…creep pretty much. He was always teasing the little guy. You know the type. Anyway, I kind of drew away as he approached. Didn’t hate the guy, just wanted to keep my distance. He made me talk to him. “Hey, Molly!” he said, nicely. I said, “Hey!” I was going to be nice, too. He said, “Listen, um. I just wanted to apologize to you for giving you such a hard time in High School.” (Four years had passed.) I was like, “Hey, don’t worry about it. That was a long time ago, man, it’s cool.” (I really meant it, too.) He goes, “No, no, I really mean it. I’m really sorry I was so mean. I was mean and I’m sorry.” He went on and on, until I finally said half-jokingly, “Jeez. Okay. I FORGIVE YOU. Okay? Gee, guy? Is that what you wanted to hear? Really, it’s OKAY. You worry too much, hun’!” Then I smiled at him. He seemed much relieved. Two weeks later, he died of an aneurysm while driving down an East Texas country road. I was so freaked out. I told my story to some friends. They told me similar stories. It was all over town. "R" had apologized to each and every person he had wronged before he passed away. Think he had a premonition?

5-6-00: Ghost Story, "Sunburned"

“Back to Life…”

Added: 7/12/00 (My fortieth b’day…)

In college, I used to run around with a big pack of drag queens. They were SO FUN. Oh, my GAWD. We would go clubbing in Houston every weekend. It was the disco era. I was a Marilyn Monroe imitator. So I was basically in drag make-up, too, I just happened to be female. Besides, I was bigger than some of those guys; I’m 5’10”. Some were guy cheerleaders at my college, some were drama or music majors, some were flight attendants, etc.

Me as the Ghost of Marilyn for Halloween 1979...


My "Marilyn Monroe period:Me in BUS STOP

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I met and made the best friend I have ever had, Gary, who was a cheerleader. He was a 6’4” African American linebacker type who also happened to be an extremely talented and beautiful Diana Ross imitator? We were so crazy. One time we all went into a club, me, and the “Comtessa”, Miss Kelly, Miss Gary, and the rest of our entourage, wearing TAMPOONS for earrings. (Un-used!) We were so naughty. When guys would come up and try to talk to us, and say, “What’s your name, sweet heart?” We’d bat our eyes, and say, “Pam.” They’d say, “Pam what?” We’d say, "TEX.” Then we’d HOWL with laughter. We were SO naughty. Anyway, there was this horrible chick in school, we’ll call her "Katie", she had a man’s voice, was about my size, and had Lauren Bacall hair. She was so evil! She had like…Devil’s toes, I swear. Get this, her FOURTH toe stuck out all crookedy about a half inch longer than the rest of her toes. Oh, My Gawd! And her little toes? Stuck straight up in the air like little freak piggies. I’m sorry she was so deformed, but my god, did she have to wear platform sandals with those little freaky toes hanging off? It was SCARY! I swear to Gawd she wore like size 11!!! That’s not all that led me to believe she was evil, those freaky feet. She had those leetle, beady eyes that always indicate a cruel streak? And her last name? That of a wild animal. She was something, I’ll tell ya’. Anyways, this closet case had it in her mind that she would have the lead in BUS STOP. I got the lead in BUS STOP, being a Monroe imitator, and the knives were out. She started vicious rumors, gave me h*ll in acting class, etc. She even wanted to be my dresser during performance of BUS STOP, where I had to strip down n*de and do a fully body quick change. I was like, “I don’t THINK so!” One day, Gary had just about enough of "Katie’s" malarkey, and he walked up to her and said, flicking each claw like a cartoon cat in her face in some hilarious count down, “You see these five stubby red nails? I am going to rip your n*pples off with them if you don’t leave Molly alone.” Guess what? She did. Gary and I were best friends after that. He was Godfather to my daughter. He taught English and Drama at a Houston High School. He even disarmed a disgruntled student and got him into counseling and prevented a school tragedy. He acted in major musicals in the Houston area. He was good to his Momma and his Aunties. He was my hero. No wait, scratch that, my heroine. No wait, make that BOTH. Anyway, late-Eighties, Gary got sick. By 1989, he passed. We went down for his funeral. It only took him 4 months between his diagnosis and his death. All of my former wild running buddies were there. There were two services, one by his family, and one by his church. At the gravesite, as we were all driving off in the limo together, Miss Kelly, the Comtessa, Ralph and I, the song, “Back to life, Back to reality” came on the radio the instant we drove off. As we drove away, we could see the gravesite. Gary’s coffin was too long for the hole they dug! We were like, “Oh. My. Gawd.” The Comtessa said, “Gary is just laughing his *ss right now in heaven.” We were like, “Too, true! Too true.” Later that weekend, Gary’s boyfriend told us that Gary had come to him in a dream, dressed in a beautiful white suit. Gary told him that God had given him a choice whether to go quickly, or to stay here and suffer. Gary had chosen not to suffer. I am truly glad. I still miss my friend. To me, age, race, gender, style of dress, lifestyle matter less...than whether someone "has your back" or not? Who else would've had the guts to defend me against that demon spawn?

Friend, Gary... My knight in shining...platforms?

5-6-00: Ghost Story, "Canary"


Added: 5/6/00

Last Fall, I had a day off. I didn’t have anything to do, so I went to breakfast with my neighbor, "L", next door. It was the anniversary of Stevie Ray Vaughan’s death. We live ½ mile from his childhood home in Oak Cliff, a mile from the high school he attended, two miles from where he’s buried. The local DART train station has lyrics to “TICK TOCK” winding through the brickwork on the paving stones. There flyers on every table of a beeyootiful greasy spoon that has been in Oak Cliff since the forties. Tabletop jukeboxes where you can still hear two Patsy Cline tunes for a quarter, etc. These flyers advertised a memorial service for Stevie Ray, given by some bikers. My neighbor had to go on in to work. I had the day to myself. I decided to have a Stevie Ray honorary kind of morning. I had never been to his gravesite, though I had seen its gates from I-35. I drove around until I found it. When I got inside, none of the gardeners knew where he was buried. I had bought flowers to lay on his grave; I was going to pay my respects. I drove around and I around, and the song, “I felt as if he knew me, embarrassed by the crowd, I felt he’d found my letters and read each one out loud…I prayed that he would finish…but he just kept right on…Strummin’ my pain with his fingers…singing my life with his words…Killing me softly with his song, telling my whole life with his words…” came on the car radio. I started to cry and pulled over the car. (It made me remember the time I had gone to see Stevie and Jimmie and Bonnie Raitt and the Fabulous Thunderbirds in a poorly attended Blues Fest in the late Eighties with my niece Kathleen, and so I got like 12 feet away from Stevie Ray. It was so cool. When you're that close, it's like they're looking right at you...even though they are probably blinded by the spotlights.) Once, when I had first moved to Austin and was trying to figure out where my sister was buried, so I could pay my respects, I got lost. (I had never driven myself there before. I couldn't stop crying no matter how I tried at her funeral, and I was so embarrassed at everyone looking at me...I kinda' became unhinged...well the whole day was a blur the day she was buried. I certainly understand the need for mourning veils, now.) I finally prayed to God to help me find my sister’s graveyard, and I made a right and a left, and there I was. So I prayed, “God, I hate to have these flowers go to waste. Please help me find where Stevie Ray Vaughan is buried.” An enormous blackbird landed in front of the car. It looked at me, and then it flew about twenty feet onto the intersection. It moved about three times, and then it landed on the road at the intersection in front of Stevie Ray Vaughan’s family plot. When I got home, I checked out some Stevie Ray Vaughan websites, and there were the lyrics to “Blackbird”, a song of his that I had not ever heard until that day.

5-6-00: Ghost Story, "Open Window"

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Added: 5/6/00

I have had the same best friend since I was 11. (I won't go into how many years, as it pains me to reveal how old I am when I...if I do say so myself, look like...ten years younger than I am, I hear, and she does too, come to think of it...but suffice it to say we've been friends a LONG time.) We live in different cities, and about five years ago, we decided to test our psychic abilities via some email discussions. We agreed that she would come to see me (astral project) in her sleep, and she would see what came of it. We set a date and time, etc. (This is a girl who painted an extra chair into a big 6'x4' painting she did of Madison and I in my living room so that she'd have some place to sit and come see me at from the after world, should she pass before I do.) So, we did the test of our psychic powers. She emailed me the next day and said, "WHY is there a big pile of LAUNDRY in the chair next to your bed? Don't you pick up for GUESTS?" There was a big pile of laundry I had not folded yet, next to my bed that night. She said, "WHY was I asked to hold your feet? 'Comfort her, hold her feet.' Was what I understood." Which was so bizarre, because I'm kinda' a "Dark Dane" those Swedes in 1960's foreign black and white films, light exterior, dark interior types. I'm descended from the Vikings, who knows. ANYWAY, the bizarre part about this, is that when I was a baby, my Daddy would rub my feet to quiet me. If he did so, I would instantly fall asleep. It is true that you can comfort me by holding my feet. I never told her that. Funky I know...but true!

10-1-99: Ghost Story, "You Fun Ball Well, Rebekka"

The Grand Crystal Palace Theatre Ghost(s)

I always had believed in ghosts, but it wasn't until I was grown up that I had actual physical experiences with them. It was then that I REALLY had no doubt that they existed. Back when I was still an actress, (about 25 years old at the time, I am 38 now), I worked as an actress at a theatre that was reported be haunted. The theatre, "The Grand Crystal Palace", was on fabulous old Swiss Avenue, in an historic Victorian section of Dallas. In the theatre, there was a beautiful 100 year old Steinway grand piano, and a $7,000.00 Baccarat chandelier hanging above the piano on center stage. Behind the piano was a huge, beautiful art nouveau stained glass depicting a maiden walking in a garden, entitled, "Spring", that was also many years old. There were two Grand Stairways that sloped towards the stage from the balcony seating area. There were many antiques and antique paintings in the theatre. One was of a pretty young girl in Victorian clothes. She looked very much like "Alice" from the Lewis Carroll stores. That painting was reportedly haunted, but haunted with a "good" spirit. The theatre was a restored warehouse from the turn of the century. Rumor had it that several workers had been killed there when the space had been a warehouse, and that those spirits haunted the building. There was also a rumor that a figure of a man in a turn-of-the-Century black suit, with a black cape and hat, haunted the audience area. This spirit had a frightening, or "dark" aura. It was very hard to be in the audience area of the theatre all by oneself, as I remember. Very "creepy". I remarked on that "creepy" feeling in that part of the building, one day to a fellow actor, while waiting for rehearsal to being one day. He then explained to me the rumors of the different "haints" that populated the Grand Crystal Palace. Towards the end of my employment there, the theatre was losing money, not doing well. I was considering leaving because of these financial difficulties. All of a sudden, strange things would happen. The dressing room was on the second floor, balcony level, near the North Grand Stair. In order t get to the dressing area, you had to climb yet another set of rickety stairs to get into that area. It was a very "creepy" feeling, indeed, to creep up those stairs, all alone. One day, I got to the theater before all the other actors, and went up to the dressing room, all alone. I was frightened to go up those creepy stairs alone, but I thought, "Silly. Who's afraid of rumors of ghosts. Silly!" When I entered the dressing room, all the dressing table lights...well...for lack of a better word...simply..."exploded"!!! I was pitched into total blackness. Panicking...I ran down those rickety old stairs in the dark, all the way down to the kitchen, at a break-neck pace! I did it just to be near other living people. Chuy the cook, remarked to Alfred, the head waiter, "La Gringa es loco en la cabeza". (Crazy in the head!) The next time I was in the dressing room alone, I set my iron on "cotton", in order to press by dance skirt. Then I went downstairs to vocally warm up, picking out my practicing as best I could on the piano, (after taking 6 years, I can only play "Moonlight Sonata"). When I came back up to the dressing room after vocalizing, say fifteen minutes later, no more, THE FACE OF THE IRON HAD COMPLETELY MELTED OFF!!! In a puddle on the table! I immediately, and, rather stupidly, I might add, uplifted the iron. Baffled, I stood looking at the crazy thing. It quite looked like the "Iron from Hell". Later, I cut the cord off to make the iron look even more satanic. The cut cord stuck straight up, not unlike a warthog's tail, (whilst in flight). Months later, I got quite a good price on the weird old thing as an "Object d’art" at a yard sale. Nutty looking old thing. The next time, (yes, can you believe), I was in the dressing room alone, I was sitting at a dressing table mirror, when all of a sudden, an unplugged blow dryer picked itself up all by itself, and flung itself clear across the room, right at my head!

(Me, Back when I was an actress...)

Again, I came running out of that dressing room, all the way down the creepy dressing room stairs, all the way down the beautiful grand stairway, across the gorgeous set, through the scary and haunted dining area, past the haunted paintings, like a bat out of Hades, just, finally landing in the kitchen, just to be with other people. "Chuy!" "Chuy!", I cried, breathlessly. "Yes, 'Loca'?!?!?", he asked patiently, wagging his head. "Oh, never mind." I said, warming my hands at the oven, more scared, than embarrassed.

The last time I was in the dressing room alone, I was waiting for the show to begin, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness came over me. I began to weep. After I gained composure and repaired my make up, I went downstairs in time to make my entrance. I had a solo, "My Ship". I loved that song. Looking out, there was a vicious young actor that had tried to besmirch my reputation by slandering me to a very popular director. That kid was sitting in the audience, glowering, facing center stage. Talk about an evil presence in the Dining Hall Audience! After the show, he said, begrudgingly, "Gosh, Molly, you ARE talented after all." (He never had much of a singing voice. Fast vibrato. You know? Not unlike the braying of an *ss. Funny how a MALE actor could be jealous of a female. Weird.) I felt kind of like the White Queen in THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS. I had my cry BEFORE I had my pain?

The last time I drove by the Grand Crystal Palace, which by then was the Gold Room (a strip club -- bet the ghosts had fun with THEM), or had it already become what it is now, "The Lizard Lounge", (ew...such visuals), I found myself whizzing by one evening about midnight, in my fully restored 1973 Opel G.T. I said, "Hi, Ghosties!" to those at the Grand Crystal Palace, as I remember the place, and laughed aloud. All of a sudden, something, (my mechanic never found the cause), dented my radiator, and my car began to steam and overheat. As my car shuddered to a creeping halt on Swiss Avenue, you could hear my yelping: "DARN you GHOSTIES! ARRRRRGGHHHHHH!!!!"

10-1-99: Ghost Story, "Oak Cliff Ghost"

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Added: 10/31/99

My Bonnie Lies Over the…

Bonnie was always special. From the first morning I saw her when pulled over to the side of the road in rush hour traffic during a rain storm, to look at her, surrounded by about ten little Lida Hooe kids, opened the car door and said, "Jump in!" I knew a special soul had entered my life. Bonnie was so funny, she had green eyes, and a little pink snout. She was terribly tiny, and very mischievous. I used to love to hold her in my arms when she was a baby, and watch her sleep. Her little blonde eyelashes, so beautiful. Bonnie was the funniest little terrier puppy. She couldn’t have been more than a foot long, and her little legs were no more than three inches long. She had perky ears, and a little curly tail. She was red, with a white tummy, boots, blaze, skirt and snout. It was almost like she had on a little red belted coat. She was part wire hair, so she resembled "Scruffy" off of GHOST AND MRS. MUIR, but she was so much prettier. I swear she could smile. We just instantly fell in love with her. From the moment we met her, Madison and I knew we had a very special puppy on our hands. She was very naughty, but not in a way that I could ever dislike. The first morning I rescued her from traffic and school kids, when she was about six weeks old, I made a "U-ee" and took her home, but had to lock her in the bathroom for the day when I was at work, with food and a blanket and water. When I got home, she had dug up a lot of the linoleum in the bathroom tile. We hadn’t even lived in that house a month. I got to spend my Saturday re-tiling the bathroom. Yippee! Bonnie was so funny. She would chase Madison all around the yard, and attach herself to the rump of Madison’s skirt and hang on. Madison was about five at the time, and we used to both just laugh until we cried over Bonnie’s crazy antics. I love to dry sheets and towels on the line outside on pretty days, and sometimes I’d walk out and find little short Bonnie, just attached to a sheet mid-air. There was a huge climbing pecan tree, that was shaped almost like an upturned palm, so that the tree made a seat, and all the branches went out at low angles. I built a tree house on one side, and Madison had a tire swing on the other. Bonnie could climb trees. (I know, it sounds preposterous, but she could!) Sometimes, I’d come out back, and there’d Bonnie and Maddie would go, racing each other up the tree to the treehouse, then they’d sit together snuggled up, and smile at me. The problem was, Bonnie could climb fences too. As short as she was, one would never believe it, but she could. One day, I stepped into the back yard and figured out how she did it. She would climb one chain link at a time, and jump off of the top. Our neighbor, to the left, Mr. "M", found this very annoying, as he was an avid bird watcher. Time after time he would hammer on my door, complaining about how Bonnie had gotten into this bird house or the other. (Think "…And you’re little dog, too…" episodes.) I would scoop Bonnie up, try to explain to Mr. "M" that Bonnie was like a member of our family…like my dog "daughter" if you will. I would apologize over and over again. It was a repeated cycle…my words were of no use.

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That year, my birthday seemed to start off on the wrong foot from the beginning. It was raining, traffic sucked, my boss yelled at me over some trivial matter. That afternoon, while I was at work, I had this terrible feeling come over me. A guy friend of mine, Frank, was standing in my cube talking to me, and my calendar flew off the wall all by itself, and the bag of microwaved popcorn flew off of my counter onto the floor all by itself. Frank said, "Um. Did you do that?" I said, wide-eyed, "I dunno’!" I knew something had happened. When I got home, I called for Bonnie, as usual, and Madison was ready with her little bowl of food and water. Madison dropped the bowl suddenly, water and food going everywhere, and ran to her little red wagon. Bonnie was laying under the wagon. Maddie shook her and shook her, but Bonnie would not wake up. I push the wagon away from her little body. I checked her gently. "Oh, Bonnie!" I said, for there seemed to be no reason for her death. Still in my blue and white business suit, I gathered Bonnie’s body up in a towel. Madison followed me, dragging the little shovel we used for gardening. It was still sprinkling slightly, but Madison and I seemed not to notice. We found a nice place under Bonnie’s favorite tree, and sobbing, I began to dig. My "boo-hoo’s" became so loud, that Madison felt compelled to hug me around the knees and say, "’Dere, ‘dere, Mommy, it all right." We buried Bonnie. Said a little prayer over her poor little body. We never did know what killed her. One thing for sure, I think she came to see me at the office, and knocked a few things down to let me know something was terribly wrong. That was her way, the mischievous little fella’.

10-1-99: Ghost Story, "My Bud-eeeee!"

"I Dream of Jeanie…"

Added: 11/18/99

For months after my sister died, I would dream of her. The dream was always the same, I dreamed I was chasing her through the afterlife, and the afterlife was Boston. There were people moving in and out of brownstones at a frenetic pace. Two gay guys were trying to stuff a man-sized gilded bird cage into a cupola window. Jeanie was dressed like when she was a teenager in 1966.

Glossy "Agent 99" hair do.

Red and black plaid tam, worn at a jaunty angle. Black and red plaid skirt. Black turtle neck, black penny loafers. In my dream, I had taken my boyfriend at the time, Mike, with me there, to introduce Jeanie to him. I would chase her and chase her, but she would speak gibberish to me, almost like baby talk, and then run from me. (I wonder if that’s the language of the other side?) I would chase her and chase her, and she would run from me in fear, looking over her shoulder. "Ashbasharasharashasham!" she would yell, and run from me. Then the dream would end. The dream wasn’t so disturbing, just upsetting. It was the time I had the dream. I would always dream this same dream, night after night, at 3:00 a.m. Not 2:57 a.m. Not 3:00:30 a.m. 3:00 a.m. Every night, right on the dot.

After a while, this got very frustrating. Six months or so of this went by, and I became pretty frazzled, pretty fried. Thanksgiving came, and the whole family got together in Austin for the holidays. Thanksgiving morning, we were all gathered at my brother’s dining table, eating breakfast. I came dragging up to the table, exhausted as usual from my 3:00 a.m. sharp alarm. "How’d you sleep?" Don asked. I sighed, "Not so good." "Yeah? Me neither," my sister Julie said. I said, "I keep dreaming about Jeanie every night, and then getting woken up at 3:00 a.m. Sharp. Not 3:22 a.m. Not 2:45 a.m. Not 3:01 a.m., but three a.m. on the dot. I tell ya," I said in confidence, "it’s really become annoying." My sister and brother looked at me, then at each other, in shock. "Me too," Julie said. "Me too," said Donny. "Well, I dream of Jeanie every night, and then I wake right at 3:00 a.m.," Julie explained. Donny said, "Me, too. Not 2:00 a.m. or 4:00 a.m., but 3:00 a.m. sharp, every night." "Just like me," Julie said. "Wow." I said. "Freaky." And it was. Think she was tryin’ to tell us somethin’?

Most recent happenings...

UPDATE: 11/24/99 -- Madison went to El Paso for the holidays to visit her best friend that had moved away this summer, Yarlette. She had to leave at 9:30 p.m. last evening by bus. I wasn't too thrilled about her traveling so far away from me at night, however, she talked me into it. Somehow, I fell asleep last night, worrying about her. It rained and I slept so hard. This morning, at 7:19, (I overslept!), my eyes popped open wide, and I said aloud, "She's there! She's in El Paso!" Five minutes later, Madison called me from El Paso, she had arrived just five minutes before. Talk about a maternal link to a baby!

Update: 12/2/99 -- Talk about Mother / Daughter bonds?!?!?! All of a sudden this afternoon, I got this terrible feeling Madison wasn't where she should be. There is a choir concert this evening, and Madison is supposed to be at rehearsal this afternoon. I just had a panic attack. Called the school, insisted on speaking with the choir teacher. The choir teacher got on the line, told me the kids were on break. Some kids told her that Madison had left with Crystal and some other girls to go to Sonic. I told the choir teacher Madison didn't have my permission to do that! The choir teacher told me she didn't have her permission to do that either. I told the choir teacher I had the strong feeling this afternoon that Madison was not where she ought to be, called the school, and sure enough, she'd left campus without permission! The school is abuzz about how I picked that right out of the air. The choir teacher said, "You must be really close to God to be so connected to your baby." Wasn't that sweet?

UPDATE: 1/20/00 -- Why, just this morning, Madison was waiting in the running car in the driveway, and I stopped and went back into her room, unbidden, to get her a coat. When I got out to the car, she said, "I had been sending you psychic vibes to bring me a jacket." "I got it!" I answered.

UPDATE: 3/11/00 -- Madison had a friend spend the night. I'm about half deaf. But for some reason, I got up, because I knew the girl's were doing something they shouldn't. I opened the front door, and they were halfway out of Madison's front door. They hadn't fully even got through the door, and I caught them. I said, "Madison, I didn't hear you open your door, I KNEW you were opening your door. You know? Stop doing stuff, I always "See" it before you even get halfway through doing whatever, you know? You know I can't hear worth a darn...I just "see" it. I don't even know why you bother to try. You always get caught." And with that I took all the house keys and the telephone, and slept with them under my pillows.

UPDATE: 4/14/00 -- Madison spent was supposed to spend the night at one friend's house across the street, but ended up spending the night at the girl's around the corner's house. When I picked her up at the crack of dawn at the house she was actually staying, she was shocked. No one had called me, I hadn't seen it, I just knew where she was. Madison started stammering, trying to make excuses. I stopped the car and said, "Now look. You know it's no use trying to lie to me. I knew in my sleep where you were last night. Just stop, before you REALLY get into trouble. I don't know WHY you try to lie to me, when I can psychically tell where you are and stuff. Just stop. You know it's pointless to try. Don't even go there."

UPDATE: 4/15/00 -- I dreamed recently that my brother showed up on my doorstep, and he turned up as I dreamed again. This was around the first week of March. I dreamed he showed up on my doorstep in a tan thin flannel shirt with very tiny aqua strips criss-crossing at 4" intervals throughout the shirt. I dreamed he wanted my puppy, Blanche. I was very upset the next day, as I kept thinking that my brother was going to take my puppy and I wasn't going to have a choice about the matter.

That next evening, I opened my door, and he and my new Sister-in-Law were on my doorstep. They gasped, because I opened the door before they rang the bell. (They live in Austin, several hundred miles from me, so I don't see them often.) I said, "My GOD! I keep doing this. This time last year I dreamed you were on my door step, and there you were. That time I dreamed some one was getting married, Kathleen, and you said 'No, it's me that's getting married, Molly.'" (Though Kathleen did get engaged a few weeks after that.) I continued, "This time I dreamed you wanted my puppy, Blanche. You're not going to take Blanche from me are you?" They laughed and said, "No!" Then I said, "But, I dreamed you were in a flannel shirt." Then I described the flannel shirt in exact detail, my sis-in-law said surprisingly, "He has shirt exactly like that, he wore it yesterday." I said, "That explains it. I dreamed him in what he had on yesterday, then."

Long story short he really wanted my Opel GT's. Wanted to trade me a mini-van for them.

"Gorbi" and "Blanche"

This is what an Opel GT Looks like...

("Shee-yuh!" It's good to want things. Whatever!) We had a big fight over it. I wrote him a letter about it after he left town. The night before the he got the letter, I woke up at 3 a.m. again on the dot. (He sent me an e-mail the day he got it, so I know when it was received.) I went in to watch cable to try to go back to sleep, and the cable blew out at 4:19 a.m. Jeanie died on April 19, 1986 (4/19). When I got to work the next morning, I had two blank voice mails on my work phone, one at 3:00 a.m., and one at 4:19 a.m. (Jeanie had given me my first Opel GT in high school. Her widower gave me my second one 15 years later.) Blanche was stolen out of our back yard two weeks after I had that dream. She was on 3/14/00. (Check out the poems I've written her and my brother on my poetry page...go to my home page, there's a link there for that.) Perhaps Jeanie was sadly trying to remind me my brother and I would have a relationship breaking fight over the cars.

I don't think he took the puppy, though, his wife said she looked like "a little piggy". Somebody else wanted her, though. I still love and miss Blanche. Anyway, as I said, maybe I combine issues in my prophetic dreams...marriages, him on my door step, taking my beloveds from me, the puppy, the opels, but they're still pretty close. I did love Blanche as much as I do my Opels. The Opels are like "pets" to, anyway? The dreams told me that my brother was coming down to when and what time of the evening. They warned me someone was getting married in the family. They even told me who. The dreams told me that my beloved property was at stake. Weird, no?

Scary, no? More to come!


Aunt Molly

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Seems I had a friend with me when I was in NYC in May, 2000, besides Felipe...check out the orb on my left arm (as I am facing you from this page)...when we were just outside a little cuban restaurant at a street fair? Hmmmmm...

Me and Felipe and My Orb Friend in NYC...Dig it...

What? Haven't been scared enough? Man, you guys are gluttons for punishment... Okay, Okay, here are some Freaky Lynx so that ya'll can continue to get your BOO on...