This is a Real Ghost Story: A true account of a soul trapped between worlds

You are Spirit having a human experience.

This is a real ghost story. . .

...And the best kind of ghost story is one with witnesses to the event.  Anyone can claim to have seen a ghost, and tell their story with all the spooky details. But one man's truth is another man's foolery.

In this tragic ghost story, there were four witnesses. And once a mystical experience involves witnesses to the magic - it becomes fact, not fiction.

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This ghost story happened during my Buddha Dark Night of the Soul experience. Everyone, (if you're lucky enough) will experience the darkness at some point in their life. It's the moment when you come face to face with your soul contract. It is often a challenging time of transformation following loss, or some sort of crisis.

Many mystical events happened to me while I was experiencing this unsettling life chapter in Earth school.   For one, my psychic abilities began to unfold at an increasingly rapid pace during this three year period of profound, yet equally traumatic, soul transformation.

When this ghost encounter happened, I was smack in the middle of my darkest hour.

You might say it was a mid-life crisis. I was changing careers after 30 years of working as a costume designer in the motion picture industry. My three children were finishing high school and off to college and as a single mother, I was suffering from the imminent empty-nest syndrome. I was also in a failing relationship with a man my children couldn't stand.  Within a few weeks of this mystical event, my boyfriend would officially become my Ex.

What a perfect time for a family vacation, right?

It was early December, in California. A huge storm had just dumped 3 feet of fresh powder on Mammoth Mountain. It was a no-brainer. Our family of 4 plus 1 loaded all winter gear into the Trooper, and we headed north, on highway 395 from Los Angeles, for a weekend of skiing and snowboarding.

It was an easy six hour drive, door to door, from our home in southern California to the ski resort.  After years of conditioning, it became a family tradition to stop at Denny's for dinner along the way.

Dinner at Denny's

My soon-to-be ex, Michael, my 3 children (aged 20, 18, and 15) and I, piled into our favorite booth for yet another pleasant meal of bickering. My kids didn't like 'the boyfriend,' and since I'd raised my children to 'speak their truth', there was no shortage of opinions exchanged during any social encounter.  By the time we'd finished our meal everyone was eager to hit the road just to escape the dinnertime arguing.

Michael and the kids headed for the car, and I stayed behind to pay the bill.  It was a Friday night, around 7:30 pm, and Denny's was getting crowded. By now there was a line at the front counter.  I gave the waitress my credit card, and told her I'd be right outside on the bench, waiting for my turn to pay the tab.

From the front entrance, you can look directly outside to a small patio, with a bench to the left, and newspaper dispensers on the right. Standing in line, still inside, I could see a boy sitting on the bench outside, alone.

He looked upset, and sad. I went outside and took a seat next to him.

The boy appeared to be about  13 or 14 years old, but he was very thin, and his body hadn't really reached puberty.

He was extremely fair skinned, and his light brown hair was unkempt. This kid really needed a proper haircut, and a bath. He was basically a mess, and I immediately felt sorry for him. He looked so sad.  At first the boy just sat there, kind of in a daze. His arms rested on his thighs, palms facing up, as he starred  into the distance.

I could see his fingernails were filthy, built-up grime over time. His clothes were worn out - obvious hand-me-downs. Jeans, a  black, scruffy tee shirt, and a light-weight blue plaid shirt were his only protection from the night cold. Any mom would worry about him. Where was his?

"Aren't you freezing?" I asked him.

"No, I'm Okay," he said.

"Where are your parents? What are you doing out here by yourself?"

"I don't know where they are. They left me here, and now I can't find them.

"What? Are you kidding me? Oh honey, that's terrible. Let me help you.  I can call your mom. Here, let me find my phone."

I was so distressed hearing that he felt, or was in fact, abandoned. What a horrible experience for this little boy.  I looked beyond the patio to our car. There were my kids, staring at me, motioning to me with their arm gestures to get on with it. I was reminded how lucky, even spoiled, my kids were in comparison. Ignoring them, I turned back to the boy,  as I fumbled for my phone.

"I don't have their number. I don't remember the number...."

He was so sad, yet resigned to his situation. I didn't understand why he hadn't been discovered earlier, at least by the Denny's staff.  The boy insinuated that he was just going to sit there and wait for his parents to return.

I asked him if he needed any food, if he was hungry. He said "No."

"Well, you can't stay here by yourself. Let's go inside; get you out of the cold. I'm sure we can call someone locally who can help you. Maybe even the police.  Don't you think that's a good idea? I said this looking straight into his sad, blue eyes, and at that moment I thought he was going to break down and cry. But he didn't. He remained stoic, even though his eyes welled.

"Oh honey, it's going to be alright. Here, come with me..." I stood up, and  walked towards the front door. As I turned back to face the bench, I caught sight of  him just as he was standing up. He started walking away,  out towards the parking lot. Then, he turned to the left, around the side of the building, now out of my sight.


I hurried after him. He was only a few feet ahead of me.  Seconds later, I rounded the corner, but he was gone. He literally vanished into thin air. When I turned the corner, the parking lot was empty. I could see the whole area. If he were there, I'd see him. But he wasn't, and that was  simply impossible. There was no place to hide. No bushes, just a huge, open parking lot. And no little boy anywhere in sight.

It wasn't until he vanished that I realized his  true essence. That poor little precious boy was a trapped soul - pure spirit. I didn't know it until he disappeared, because he'd presented himself as intact - in the flesh - as real as you and me. And here is the difference between energy that is simply trapped in this dimension, and souls who are stuck between one reality and the next. When the spirit energy can interact with you, it's a trapped soul. If the entity just goes about its business, unresponsive to you, or anything in this dimension, it is likely just trapped energy. (I'll be sharing more personal experiences with this energy  in future chapters.)

Eventually, I got back to the car. My kids and my boyfriend were all up in arms.  I remember vividly the feeling of being in the dog house, because everyone  was waiting for me. While I'm not able to quote verbatim how our conversation unfolded, I recall it went almost exactly like this:

"Mom, what the heck!" Jordan, my middle son yelled. "What were you doing? Who were you talking to?"

"What are you talking about?" I responded. "Didn't you see that boy?"

In unison, all my tribe began their own interrogations, demanding to know what had happened.

"Mom," my daughter Sarah said, sounding stressed out. "What was that? You were just talking into thin air.  Who were you talking to?"

The Boy was trapped between two worlds.

I told them what had happened, and the nature of the supernatural. I kept it brief.

As usual, everyone rolled their eyes and sighed, in exasperation. "Oh, another ghost story. What else is new?" Sarah said, buckling her seat belt. Michael didn't say a word, but he was clearly disturbed by the event. He was a non-believer, which meant, he would assume that I was nuts.

"Okay then. Let's  hit the road. We're going skiing."


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