Tales Of The Strange But True

I've always stated that I never did mind the rain. Well, I'd like to amend that. I never did mind the rain, UNLESS I am trying to have a yard sale. And then for some reason, it always seems to rain.

Nevertheless, while having said yard sale, a customer came up and went crazy over these baby toys. They were toys that had a bunch of buttons and gadgets on them meant to develop a baby's motor skills. She then asked if we had rattles, so my friend brought her an entire bag of them.

"This is great, " she said, "My raccoons are gonna love these!"

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I am prone to watching reality job shows. I watch "Billy the Exterminator" and "True Stories from the ER", because I find this fascinating to see what goes on. (I also watch Hoarders, but this is futile, because I always end up wanting to shake the person. Just let it go! It's a rotting pumpkin, let it go! I digress.)

On one of the episodes of the ER show, this homeless man came in with his one leg entirely covered in -- if you are squeamish, stop reading now, because I was gagging watching this -- maggots. Now I'm not talking little tiny maggots; I am talking full-on, half inch, really fat maggots. His leg looked like it was pulsating. I was horrified for the man. So, how did this happen? Well, apparently, he'd had some sort of cut on his leg. A fly laid some larvae, or whatever it is that flies to do (I am non-scientific, sorry.) in the wound. The maggots go after dead skin and bacteria and gobble it on up. The doctor has a few nurses help the man clean up in the shower. The doctor makes a comment to the camera about how he thinks they might have to amputate.

Now this is the amazing part. They help him take a shower, the doctor comes back and voila! All the maggots are gone, his leg is perfectly fine. It was only a tiny cut and the cut is healing wonderfully. The maggots actually helped the guy stave off infection. Those maggots may well have saved his life. Crazy, but true.

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This one is a bit more personal. I can feel what other people feel. Sometimes, I can cue in to what they are thinking. This leads to a lot of long silences, followed by my saying something off topic the exact time someone else does. I can tell most of the time when people are lieing to me. But it is the emotional feeling that really gets to me. If someone is excited or happy, I actually feel a burst of fuzziness in my chest. (I don't know how else to explain it. It feels like a happy ... fuzzy feeling.) If someone cries, even if I don't know them or why they are crying, I will cry too.

It's more than just being able to read a person. Sometimes, I will get so angry and I have to stop and gauge whether or not I am really angry or if I'm feeding off of someone else's negative energy. I have to sit and think about it. Why am I suddenly angry? I was having a perfectly fine day. And then the heated feeling and tightness in my chest goes away. (Unless I am truly angry for a reason and then I stay mad FOREVER. Heheh, or at least it feels that way.)

I only began to notice this within the past few years. Or at least, I began noticing that other people didn't feel this way too. For example, at work one of my managers would always come to me to vent. And he would say the same types of things over and over, like "I don't know why she reacted that way." or "What was his problem?!" And I would explain to him that while he was perfectly friendly and using a nice voice, he was projecting superiority. Everyone can sense that and it doesn't feel good to be on the receiving end of it. No one likes to be made to feel as if they aren't as good as you. His answer was always the same, "But I never said anything wrong and I was so nice to them!" Yeah, that might be true. He may have been friendly on the outside, but on the inside, I could almost hear his condescending thoughts as if he'd said them out loud. And in retail, a customer can pick up on negative vibes from a salesperson in a heartbeat.

People would also call in sick and I knew immediately if they were telling the truth. Surprisingly, a lot of the time they were. There were a few where I was thinking, "Uh huh, sure." But for the most part, people were pretty honest about it. I can back that up, because usually when they came back to work, I caught whatever they had, only I hardly ever called in. Sigh. Don't do that. If you're sick, call in. No job is worth working when you feel miserable.

Anyway, I don't believe this is a special ability or anything. I think I just watch people enough that I can guess their motives or how they feel. I don't know why I feel what they feel, other than sympathy. But I can say that I don't like crowded places. It's hard to block all that out. It feels like energy being sapped from you. So, most times, I stay at home. Safe!

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This tale was passed down to me by family, so I don't know all of the exact details. When my mother was growing up, they lived next to a family that had a boy and a girl. The boy was older and he was mentally handicapped. He didn't talk very well, if at all, if I remember correctly. The girl was younger, maybe six or seven years old. Now this was a long time ago, when you could leave your house unlocked and let your kids walk to the park unsupervised. My aunt, who was also six or seven at the time, went with the neighbor girl to the park. They snuck out, after being told they were not allowed to go.

The older boy was at home in the back yard. They were having a cookout, so most of the family was there with him. I guess with all the people in the backyard, no one noticed the two girls missing. Suddenly, the boy let out a loud shriek and began calling his sister's name over and over, crying hysterically. The parents could not calm him down. A few minutes later, officers came to the door to tell the parents that the two girls had been hit by a car, trying to cross the busy street. My aunt was injured, but recovered. The little girl, however, died.

Now there was no way the little boy could have seen his sister, as the point they were hit was too far from the house to be seen. Besides, he was in the back yard. But somehow he knew, even though he wasn't able to express it in words, he knew something had happened to his sister. I often think that mentally disabled people have special abilities that we don't have. They function on a different level. And maybe that level is higher than we think it is.