It’s not creepy or anything

Do I believe in ghosts? I don’t know. I know weird things happen sometimes—weird things that I can’t explain.

My aunt (married to my mom’s brother) died of ovarian cancer when I was 17. Several days after her funeral, I had a dream that my family and I were gathered around in her and my uncle’s kitchen doing the Minnesota goodbye—the slow walk to the door and the ten minutes spent chatting again before we finally leave, just as in real life. Only every time my aunt spoke, there were no words coming out of her mouth that I could hear. And I just kept looking at her as she talked, but nothing was coming out of her mouth.

In August of 2016, my uncle, my dad’s brother, passed away unexpectedly. And a few months later, I had another dream, this one where I was peering out my parents’ window at the car that was backing into the garage. It was Christmas time, and my relatives were coming over to celebrate. In the car, my aunt and cousin were talking and I could hear them, but every time my uncle, who was driving, opened his mouth to talk, no sound would come out.

My mom had told me awhile ago that she had similar dreams when her own father passed away when she was 13.

So. Do I believe in ghosts? I don’t know. But I believe I do get visits from people close to me who have passed on.

For the last year, Olivia will appear to see things that we can’t see. Is it creepy? Yeah, as hell. They make for great stories to freak people out, but sometimes I wonder…

There are times we will catch her on the baby monitor pointing and laughing alone in her room at something. Or, she’ll lay in her crib after waking up from her nap, holding a cheerful conversation alone.

Another time, she stood in the hallway like some sort of Shining shit, and waved—freaking waved—to something down the hall.

I don’t know. Maybe this is just weird creepy things babies do to freak us out.

Back in December, I was nursing her in her darkened room before her nap in the glider, when suddenly she started sniffling hysterically around my boob, pointing eagerly up to the wall slightly behind me. She unlatched and giggled, and giggled, and giggled and babbled and just generally incited terror in me.

“Cut it out,” I told her crossly, “Or at least point to what is so funny.”

She uttered another random shriek of bubbling laughter and pointed again behind me at the wall.

What. The. Fuck.

I never did figure it out. Did she see something that wasn’t there? I wouldn’t put it past her. I only ask that whatever is there is friendly, amiright?

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