When I was a little girl, I had a little friend named Petey. Petey was black and always wore the same denim overalls and red and green plaid shirt. We were about the same age and spent many many hours coloring, playing outside and sometimes he even spent the night. He had a penchant for pear juice and my mother aways being the good sport, bought it for him. She would pour him a glass and there it would sit, untouched for days on end. Still, she kept buying it for him so it would always be there when he would come to play. Mom was good like that.
When I started attending kindergarten in the fall of 1975, Petey just stopped coming around. Sure, I made other friends but he was special. Maybe he was jealous. Whatever the case may be, he eventually stopped coming around completely. And I never gave him another thought, until the summer of 1991.
You know, I never really gave much thought to what happens to us after we die until, of course I lost my mother in December of 1986. I was 16. Being raised in the Catholic faith I was taught to believe in heaven and hell and all that jazz, but didn't spend quality time pondering what would happen to me after I shed my mortal coil. I never believed in ghosts and witches and things that went bump in the night. I made fun of people who did. At my sister's wedding in 1984, a woman who was extremely wasted on weed told me I was so psychic that I radiated; i wanted to leave right then and there. Yes, I was easily spooked and movies like, the Exorcist scared the hell out of me, but the idea that people hung around causing havoc just didn't make sense to me. I had other things to think about. Like Prince. Now, mom taught me to always keep an open mind. So, having never had a supernatural experience I said aloud to the fates: if there is such a thing.......show me.
You know that expression, be careful what you ask for?
The summer of 1991. I was living in Los Angeles but was home in Phoenix paying a visit to my sister. We got to waltzing down memory lane and somehow veered onto a discussion about the afterlife and ghosts. We reminiscesd about our old house in Nanuet, NY and this and that and how we all had vivid imaginations. Okay, I admit that maybe I DIDN'T really see Mr. Snuffleupagus behind the Beil's house when I was four, but I digress...
During the conversation, she brought up someone I hadn't thought of in years, my old friend, Petey. Her exact words to me were: "do you remember when you were little, you had an imaginary friend name Petey? You were so insistent that he was real, mom actually bought toys and juice for him. She used to hear you talking to someone in your room all the time. Then one day, you just stopped. Mom was relieved that you started playing with real kids...".
Soon after that, I had a reading with someone who did past life regressions; Petey was the son of someone I was associated with in a past life I had in the 1700s.
Now, with my third eye completely open and ears firmly in tuned to the ether world, I catch glimpses of Petey now and then. Not to mention a veritable who's who of people who have passed to the other side. No, no one famous. As I've matured, I've been able to balance the two worlds that I live in and don't knock people who do hear things that go bump in the night. I could let it consume my whole life, but I've got other things to think about. Like Elvis.