You would think that because we investigate the paranormal from a pragmatic and logical frame of view, it might mean that we, just as many of you, do not believe in the existence of that we can’t explain or that we hold very limited views of what exactly paranormal means.
You might think that because we go looking for experiences to prove or disprove the existence of the paranormal that our own lives are dull and boring and paradoxically barren of the rich experiences of that other world, or that we don’t harbor our own beliefs and wonder about the possibilities, despite our search for truth and evidence.
You would be mistaken to think that we don’t hear that bump in the night and wonder at the source, or that we don’t have our own hopes and dreams that our loved ones are reaching out across the vast expanse of the universe to communicate. We, too, sometimes fear the unknown, and as most of humanity, we sometimes get lost in the possibilities and role of quantum physics and question the source of reality. We, too, wonder at the synchronicity and source of that reality and seek to understand in whatever form that takes as we continue to ask questions.
In this, we’d like to share one of our own personal stories as we seek to investigate yours.
Nolan's Paranormal Story:
Throughout my life, there have been plenty of paranormal experiences I could share. I think the one that might feel the most sinister however is one my son experienced when he was 2 years old.
In 2014 we were preparing to sell our duplex and move into a single-family home. The modest duplex had served a family of 3 well but with a brand-new baby, the walls felt like they were closing in quickly.
The selling stage is so chaotic, especially when you add a 2-year-old, a new born and a cat into the mix. Every time there is a showing, you’re forced to pack things up and leave the house as if it hadn’t been lived in. This, on top of all the energies bring brought into the house from would be buyers.
After some time of the house being on the market with no offers, our realtor brought in a home stager, to give our house the real “nobody lives here” feel. During this time we had to pack up a lot of personal items, get some furniture we didn’t love and hide anything considered unsightly.
In our 2-year-olds room we had a baby monitor set up. Having recently moved to a “big boy bed” we wanted to keep an eye on him a night to make sure he didn’t decide to take a run for the stairs. As we had the monitor elevated, the power cord dangled down the wall.
“This won’t do” said the house stager. “We need to cover this up.”
I’ll give her credit, she was creative as no sooner did she make a fuss, she found a solution. Up went a gaudy mirror, we wouldn’t normally showcase in our home, but I’ll admit it did a nice job covering up the wire, and giving the room the appearance of being larger than it was.
Now, I have never been a fan of mirrors. They serve their purpose, sure, but people who have them plastered all around their house make me either think there is a lot of vanity involved, or something else at play.
Now, I get kids have wild imaginations and they can muster up the most unusual of scenarios, but sometimes I’ll hear kids vividly describe an experience that they have absolutely no way to understand or fabricate.
After 3 months of age or so, my then 2-year-old became a pretty good sleeper. He would miss the odd nap but in the evening at bedtime it was lights out followed by rhythmic snoring soon after.
It seemed almost immediately to change following the installation of the mirror in his room. He would wake in the morning sleepy, cranky and out of sorts. This went on for a few nights until we asked him one morning what was keeping him up.
“The lady in the mirror” he quipped with zero hesitation.
Obviously, this is something myself, nor my wife ever expected to be his reasoning and it caused us to take a long pause before asking him what he meant.
“The lady in the mirror watches me when I sleep” he replied.
NOPE! That mirror came down so damn fast I swear there was a trail of smoke behind me. It found it’s way into a closet and didn’t come back out until the move.
For some reason, instead of disposing of the damn thing (call me superstitious), it made the move with us…well kind of. Our movers were impeccable, not a single piece of furniture, nor wall got damaged, just one thing…the mirror. It must have broken in transport. It was wrapped in bubble wrap and other packing materials, yet the glass still shattered (so much for superstition).
There wasn’t a single sad emotion for anyone, and I happily saw it off to the dump.
My son has never struggled with sleep since the mirror was removed, and the “Lady in the mirror” was never brought up again.