I’m not a huge proponent of letting the children sleep with us unless they’re very sick. But sometimes it’s hard to resist a shirtless little nugget that appears with his pillow and wants to cuddle up with you to watch Christmas movies. I relented and let him burrow in between us and fall asleep.
Shortly after lights out, I was awoken by snoring, snorting and choking on chronic post nasal drip. I tried to reposition him, pounded his back to get him to cough and clear and even pinched his nose (well short of suffocation, don’t worry) in the hopes he’d flip the switch to mouth breathing. Nothing silenced the mucous musical.
I was about to grab my pillow and just go sleep in his bed. Until I remembered his room is haunted.
About 2 months ago, we bought new mattresses for the bunk beds. A friend of mine was helping me switch them out. Wait, my white privilege is making me feel guilty to tell you my housekeeper was helping me. We had stripped the old mattresses and were chatting for a moment when I saw the corner of the mattress on the top bunk slowly depress and then slowly recover. I asked her if she saw that. She laughed nervously and confirmed my sighting. Neither of us were frightened so I took the spirit to be a friendly presence.
It’s not the first time Betty June has come to visit. Middle Child was 5 when my grandmother died. Shortly after she passed, he requested a picture of her to keep at his bedside. At the time he was the lower bunk tenant. Soon after, he told me Great Grammy had come to visit him. Maybe she had needed the photo as a gateway to come see him. He described her appearance in great detail. She had let her hair grow long and it was blonde. She was wearing dangly earrings, purple silk pants, a green silk shirt with purple polka dots and very high heels. My grandmother was a fashion plate in life, her outfit in death made complete sense. Who knew Dolce & Gabbana had an afterlife line?
Her next appearance in our home was when the baby was about two. We had moved all his toys to a makeshift play area in the living room. Unable to sleep, I was walking down the hall when a toy cow mooed at me. In the middle of the night. I instantly knew it was the sarcastic commentary of my grandmother. She was fitness crazed well before Olivia Newton John got physical and was not secretive in her assessments of my or my cousins’ appearance. Clearly, she felt it was time for me to drop the baby weight and get in shape.
Fast forward to just a few weeks ago. I had a terrible asthma attack in the middle of the night. The children were spending the night with grandparents so in an effort not to disturb my husband, I went to sleep in the bottom bunk. Just as I started to settle, I was overcome with a feeling of panic and dread. There was no doubt in my mind that I was not alone, and my roommate was not pleased with my presence.
I don’t know why she’s got her panties in a wad but I sure as hell wasn’t going back. Maybe she just wanted her little nugget back in bed with her. Fine by me. I moved him and hoped that demon spirits wouldn’t drag him back to Hades before morning.