When I was younger, my mother was always convinced that I had some kind of clairvoyance for the spirit world. At rare opportunities of my life do I get to hear of when I was younger of the invisible people I would hold conversations with or how I was able to predict with clarity some happenings. I personally believe that though some of these things may have been actual contact with the spirit world, it was mostly just lucky guesses based on a very observational child.
One of my first memories of my interaction with the paranormal world occurred when I was around the age of five. However, this story requires some background before it can be fully understood:
In my old neighborhood, we had an elderly neighbor who spoiled me with beautiful glass dolls and rag dolls that she apparently had kept around the house. She had a granddaughter who lived with her because her mother had unfortunately died of a drug overdose, and she very ill. To make her happy the grandma would buy her granddaughter tons of dolls. Unfortunately, the girl died years before my family would ever meet the old woman.
At first I loved these dolls because with these dolls came an imaginary playmate. I never recall having another imaginary friend besides just this one girl. Her name was Abby, but she wanted to be called Amy instead. We went with that name, and she followed me right up until we moved into our new house. I was starting to get old by then, but I still enjoyed having the company of Amy--I was extremely shy when I was younger and it was hard for me to make friends.
Only months following our move into the new house I remember becoming deathly scared of the dolls, and all my memories of Amy cease and were replaced by the attic monster. I would have terribly vivid nightmares that haunt me to this day of what was lurking behind the ceiling door and I often woke up screaming. It also led to repeated incidents of bedwetting. I believe I've suppressed these memories because they were so frightening to me as a child. It even led to my mom taking me to therapy where I underwent hypnosis to see what the underlying cause of my fears was.
My mom relayed this account back to me, but I only repeat it now because of how serious she was and of the three times I've ever heard it in my life, it has always been the same.
My fear of dolls coincided with my fear of a monster in the attic. I remember believing Amy lived in the attic and my parents recall every time they went up to fix the insulation, I would ask them to tell Amy hi. I had grown scared of a girl who was angry about the change of houses because she had liked the other one but wouldn't leave her dolls with "anyone, even me" (as my mom says every time). Naturally, the therapist told my parents I was just scared of the change of houses and I associated the dolls with the change because I had related them to the old house or some such nonsense. Either way, the dolls were taken to the basement to be locked in storage for another few years.
When I was seven, the old lady who had given me the dolls died and we attended her funeral. My mom suggested we bring the dolls with us to give back to her surviving family, so we did and they accepted the load with smiles and words of thanks for coming to the funeral. I was keeping my distance and I was looking at the brochure. It had the woman's picture on the front with her name like any other funeral card. However, on the inside was a mini epitaph dedicated to her love in life:
"And though I leave you, I will be greeted by my little angel, my little darling Abby ------ called Amy..."
The bedwetting and night terrors subsided when the dolls left our house, and I can only assume that Amy might be happier with the rest of her family. I sincerely hope she has found her way to rest with her grandma and though I still have an extreme fear of dolls, I think I've grown up enough to understand what it really all meant.
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