The Haunting

Last night I dreamed of my father. I dream of him often, and they’re always lovely interactions.

He is fine, as the dead always are. It’s those who are left behind who have to patch up their hearts and lives.

For a year before my father became ill, I had anxiety something bad was going to happen to one of my parents. It did. Did I have a premonition? I can’t confirm or deny. Maybe I’m just at the age where the elders are in their last innings and I’m more aware of their mortality.

However, I do know that connecting to dead is a skill of mine, and I have never been more dialled in since my father popped his clogs.

The last time I spoke to my father was on the day he died.  It was over the phone, as I was with my brother in hospital, who was recovering from heart surgery and about two hours away from being diagnosed with cancer.

‘Come and haunt me,’ I said to Dad. It was partly a joke and part reality. My father was a deeply spiritual man, who also talked to the dead.

On the Sunday night after he died, I dreamed that I saw him in the shed of his father’s, who was also a craftsman and toy maker. They were fitting a clock mechanism into the body of a grandfather clock that they had made together.

I was watching father and son work in unison, as my beloved and now passed grandmother came down the garden path with a plate of triangle cut sandwiches.

When I told my mother about the dream, she was stunned and then told me that the last piece my father finished was a miniature grandfather clock.

She gave it to me when she moved, as she thought my Dad was trying to tell me something in the dream.

My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor;
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride;
But it stopped short — never to go again —
When the old man died.

This is the clock, sitting on top of the clock that belonged to my grandparents, with a little mouse from a beloved family friend.

IMG_7638

The clock that belonged to my grandparents doesn’t work, except when someone dies.

When Dave’s mother died, it ticked for a week.

When my grandmother died, it ticked for three days. I’m not surprised it was so short a time. My grandmother couldn’t wear watches, as her body would stop them, due to her electromagnetism of something. Spooky lady!

When my Tansy’s dear friend died, it ticked for a week, at random.

When Dad died, it ticked for ten days and only when Mum was in the house.

I now think it’s a spirit barometer. While the energy of the person is still here, the clock goes. When they’ve moved on, the clock stops working.

So my father kept his promise to haunt me and I couldn’t be happier to see him so well and peaceful in my dreams.

Life is a funny thing.

En avant.

Kate

x

 

 

 

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4 thoughts on “The Haunting”

  1. God Kate…..you are so amazing…..and also the spirits…..I LOVE your writing…..you always get straight to the point…..full on…..
    BUT PERFECT…….keep up the good work…..love Pappy

  2. I know that song! My mother and grandmother used to sing it but the words were slightly different but maybe that’s just the way I remember it.
    I wish that I could dream of my late parents and grandparents- I think it’d be rather comforting. I’ve had 2 experiences which have made me believe in some kind of afterlife.
    The first was a few weeks after my husband had left me and my daughter to be with his 23 yo girlfriend (yeah I know I didn’t have to specify her age but I couldn’t resist – he was 46 – talk about a cliche. ) Since he’d left I felt like I had a great lump of concrete in my chest and couldn’t breathe properly and felt so stressed at the thought of trying to cope with a young child who had a lot of health problems; no $$$ etc etc. I was driving by myself along Nepean Hwy and was just near Southland it was pouring with rain and I started to cry and I said to myself that I didn’t think I could cope anymore. Suddenly I could smell my father – a unique combination of his aftershave and cigarettes and I felt very comforted and felt that I would be able to get through the crisis. I often think of it when I drive past that same spot. My darling Dad had died 3 years previously and it’s been the only experience I’ve had with him since he died.
    My other experience was about 5 years later when I had to have my 16 year old dog put down. I was heart broken and swore that I’d never have another dog. Anyway almost every night after I sat down in the lounge room I swear I heard her claws tapping on the floorboards the way they always did as she used to run along the floor to sit next to me. I hated being without a dog and my daughter and I decided to get another dog and after we bought him we never heard her again but I felt sure that she would’ve definitely approved of him.

    1. 23? FFS! Does she know that she’s gonna have to be his nurse one day? I love your Dad came to tell you it’s going to be okay. And a puppy ghost? Love it! xx

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