It’s been almost quiet in our home right now. By that I mean that we haven’t had the usual Grand Central Station atmosphere with ghosts in the house. Maybe they haven’t wanted to bother me since I have had that sinus crud. It seems that they walk a little more silent through the house rather than really wake me up when I see them.
Generally I don’t stop to ask who they are when they come passing through unless they are persistent. Then I will stop and say what do you want or either wait until I am talking with someone that I feel is the reason the ghosts are visiting at the time. Then I mention to the physical person I am speaking with that I have been seeing a person or animal that has passed to the other side. After giving them the details or most often while giving them the details, the physical person starts to hyperventilate and then tell me they know exactly who the ghost is.
Right now, though, they have been gentler. For instance, I saw a whiff of at least six-feet-tall smoke last night in my kitchen. And I could swear that I heard the word, “Sorry,” like he was upset I had caught him. He was rather lean with dark and gray hair, a nice chin and beautiful fingers. This man had a musical voice and had a spirit, pardon the pun, that would make anyone love him. Don’t know why he was here, just that I saw him. He will probably make his way back around at the time I speak with someone he loves. And for some reason the name, “Joyce” comes to mind.
Oh well, Happy Thanksgiving Eve.