Being born into a heavily military based family, I was quickly stationed with my father and mother in a small, two bedroom apartment right outside of infamous Freihung, Germany. Growing up, my father was very busy, so me and my mother traveled around the cities, looking at castles and reveling in the immense culture around us.
German quickly became my first language, starting off small, counting and repeating things I heard on the television, and expressing myself in small sentences to my mother, who spoke very little German. She quickly began to teach me English, which I began to use more fluently to communicate as I grew older. However, this is not a story of my later years in Germany. This is my story of when my sixth sense began.
My mother tells me the stories often, reminding me how I was born like her grandmother, who I am properly named after. Her grandmother was a vessel for the supernatural, hearing them, seeing them, feeling them, and being able to communicate with them. The trait thinned out through the next generation, my mom only being able to sense the passed, my aunt interacting with them, my grandmother hearing their whispers. Luckily neither of my sisters can experience these things, maybe just a shadow or two now and again. I, however, am just like my great-grandmother and that was apparent only months after I was born.
It started when my mother would lay me down to sleep, flicking on the baby monitor and heading to bed. Early in the night, she would hear me laughing and babbling. She describes it as if someone was standing above my crib, tickling me. My mother would come into the room, and flick on the lights. I then would start to become inconsolable, screaming and crying, my face bright red and neither of my parents could stop me. She'd sit in the room with me, waiting for me to fall asleep.
Then I started talking to people behind my mom, nothing understandable, just babbling. Taking toys over and handing them to an unseen person. Waving my hands, like I was explaining things to them. Just a child's imagination.
Things quickly became clear after one night my mom heard me talking to someone in my room. She rolled over, 2 am. Why was I up, and who was I talking to? She sat up quietly in the bed, trying not to wake my father. She leaned in close to the monitor, and heard my toys going off. How did I get out of my crib? She walked to my bedroom, only to open the door and witness something out of a paranormal movie. I was laughing and sitting in my crib, while electronic toys and stuffed animals danced around the crib. I clapped and laughed, never noticing my mother. She flicked on the light, and everything stopped. The noises stopped. The toys fell to the floor. I just sat in my bed giggling and clapping. Not knowing what was to become of my life.