MIMI, IS THAT YOU?

by Dubricus

First, I must say, that until I had certain experiences, I tended to believe that ghostly encounters were imagination, perhaps time-slips, or maybe a form of stored energy that under certain circumstances could recreate especially emotional events. I did not believe in spirit visitations.

Secondly, I must also admit that when I was in my teens I had four clairvoyant dream experiences... actually, they were more clairaudiant. The dreams were visual, but in the dream I would hear the information on the TV or radio. It would be very brief and vivid. When I awakened I would recall the dream quite clearly, something which is unusual for me, and I would feel the absolute certainty that the event would happen. In one case it was like watching an instant replay. Last year I had another, the first in many years. It had the same "feel", but has not yet come true. I hope it doesn't.

Anyway, back to the ghosts. My mother passed away on August 1, 1994. We were extremely close. She was eighty and had gone into the hospital suffering from pneumonia that had gone septic. She held her own and was improving. The doctors thought that she might be able to come home in about ten days.

I had gone to sit with her on Saturday morning, July 30th, which was the first time I had done so. I usually waited until lunch and went to the hospital to help her eat, but for some reason I went that early that morning and stayed through lunch. When I and my father returned for dinner around four p.m., the room was in a panic. The breathing therapist had found her unresponsive. She had had a massive stroke.

My dad and I returned Sunday afternoon to say good-bye. I whispered in her ear that I loved her, but that we would be OK. I told her not to be afraid... there was nothing to fear. Then I said, "Wait for me. I won't be that long in the scheme of time." She passed away the next morning.

Within the month I had an earlier than usual work call. I set my alarm clock for six a.m. At five of six, my mother's voice woke me. As plainly as if she was standing by my bed, bending over me, I heard, "Honey, it's time to get up." I woke instantly and looked at the clock. Only when I went to turn the alarm off, did I realize that it had never been on.

About the same time, three weeks after my mom's death, I took in a stray dog, Pup. I already had an elderly Springer Spaniel, Nigel. To protect Nigel, who was very frail, I kept the dogs separated by baby gates. Pup had the run of the kitchen and service porch; Nigel had the dining room and living room. The door from the dining room into the hallway is side by side with the kitchen door into the hallway... the dogs could be standing next to each other, but not see each other.

One night Pup was in the kitchen, standing at the hallway door, looking directly at something in the hallway and barking his "alert" bark. He went on and on... I could not get him to stop. Nigel was standing in his doorway looking at the same point as Pup, but he was wagging his tail. Finally, it dawned on me. I said, "Mimi (my name for my mom), are you here? If you are, this is Pup. He's never met you and maybe can't smell you. He's a good dog...part Corgi. (She had always wanted a Corgi.) We're fine. I love you, but could you go so he'll shut up?" A couple of minutes later Pup stopped barking and acted as though nothing had happened.

What I had thought was my last encounter with my mother occurred in July 1995. My dad and I had gone to Indiana to deal with family property, buy a headstone, etc. By this time I had lost Nigel and acquired a new, nervous dog, Junior. While there, we stayed in a house that my aunt owns and rents to college students during the school year. It's a big, old house and, of course, tends not to be in very good repair. I'll that admit it could seem somewhat spooky, but I had never gotten a sense of unease in that house... rather I had always had a sense of safety.

Because it was so hot, we stayed on the ground floor and only went upstairs to use the bathroom. Besides, the circuit breakers for the second floor had been turned off, so there was no light. I had a couple of battery powered lanterns that I took up with me to shower and I would leave the door open to catch the light on the lower landing. In the past, my mom and I would keep each other company during our showers. She'd sit on an old chair next to the window & hold the light for me... I'd do the same for her. One evening, I was showering. Junior was laying on the threshold waiting for me. Suddenly, he seemed to get nervous and took off down the stairs. I figured he'd heard or smelled something. I got out and began to dry off. I had my back to the window and the chair; I was facing the door. Suddenly, I got a feeling that is impossible to describe to anyone who hasn't felt it... not fear nor creepiness. More like what a mouse must feel when he's being stared at by a cat, but doesn't know where the cat is. I knew she was there, sitting in the chair. I said, "Mimi, I hope that's you. I love you, but I'm not going to turn around because I don't know what I'd do if I did see you and I don't know what I'd do if I didn't see you. By the way, that was Junior you just scared off. Nigel died at Christmas. I hope he's with you. I'm going downstairs now. Good night."

My dad became ill on that trip and passed away on December 22, 1995, my mom's birthday. I had no more experiences and thought that was the end of it... that she had been waiting for him.... Until this past Mother's Day.

The Friday before I had a fender bender... a woman had stopped in front of me to avoid hitting an opossum in the middle of Los Angeles. I couldn't stop, I hit her, she hit the 'possum, then I hit the 'possum. I was upset, because I had been going to leave on a driving vacation to San Francisco on Sunday, Mother's Day. On Mother's Day afternoon, Pup started barking... that same "alert" bark, on and on. My new dog, Molly Brown, a shy beagle mix, stood a nervously behind Pup. Both were focused on the same spot, which changed places over about an hour. I couldn't get him to shut up. Finally, I recalled the other time. I said, "Mimi, are you here? I'm OK... just depressed about the accident... should have made 'possum stew. You remember Pup? He's my guard. This is Molly Brown, she's new and a lot like Cookie (my 1st dog). I love you, but good-bye. Pup won't shut up til you're gone." One minute later Pup shut up. It wasn't until the next day that I realized Sunday had been Mother's Day.

The same thing happened the following Sunday. Again, a minute after I spoke to her, the dog quit barking. I've had no visitations since.

April 1999, an update: Just before the holidays, I believe I had another visitation. On 18 December and again a couple of days later, I experienced the odor of a strong, spicy perfume. My mother wore Cinnebar, in abundance. However, I have never reacted well to scented sprays of any sort. Because of my dogs, my house smells of dog, which I prefer over any scented candle or room freshener. I just about die when my dogs' groomer sprays them with "doggy" perfume.

The scent of the eighteenth was localized in about a three foot circle in my living room. When it came the second time, the circle was in the far corner of the dining room. Each time it lasted for a period of five minutes at most. My older dog, Pup, who is the one who usually notices, paid no attention. But my beagle-basset, Molly, detected it immediately, both times, and raised her nose in the air to scent, then became somewhat anxious.

This was not the end. After the holidays, while the perfume went away, a new odor materialized. It was the smell of stale cigarette smoke, and it was pervasive. I have never smoked, though both parents did until a few years before their deaths. My neighbors who live in the other half of my duplex, do not smoke. At times the odor was so bad that I coughed and my eyes burned. Again it was confined mainly to the dining room and living room, particularly around my computer and my favorite reading chair.

Shortly, later yet another scent became mingled in... the smell of whiskey and stale beer. I recognized the combined odors immediately. It was a backroom where guys play poker or settle their golf bets, etc. My father was a golf pro and there was such a room at every golf course and country club. Some were off the pro shop, some were the caddies' shack, some were near the club house bar.

I battled this immensely annoying scent for weeks and even resorted to, hell of hells, Lysol, which made me sick. I've pondered over this "whatever it was", because it was different than any other experience. All previous ones, other than the Marilyn one mentioned in my other story, have revolved around my mother. This one, to my mind, did not. An friend dubbed the phenomenon "Clyde and his poker buddies".

One interesting note, however, is that in late January I had very tight bronchitis with only chest symptoms and a series of rather scary heart episodes... very fast, hard, irregular beat, which repeated again in February, but on a much decreased level. (I was taking no medication that might produce unusual side-effects.) Since then... I've been fine heart-wise. The curious thing is that the "backroom" odor went away after my heart episodes went away. Nothing since. Was it some of the guys I knew as a little girl, when I would sit on sacks of golf balls and watch them settle their bets? Were they now watching over me as a group of rather strange guardian angels? I have no idea.