Nicola Kirk: Author and Collector of Paranormal Stories and Other Strange Encounters

REMEMBERING FRIENDS…

Dreams are curious creatures.  I’ve heard all the usual explanations for dreams: it’s your brain having a sort through of all the experiences you’ve had and so on but what, I ask you, is Kim Basinger doing popping up in my dreams when she is the last person I would be thinking about (no offence, Kim, but it’s been a while).  I’ve always had very vivid dreams, most of which I forget like everyone else, but sometimes I get caught up in a right humdinger (remember the one about Lady Gaga and strange men eating KFC?)  Well this one was kind of in the same bracket but without the extra side orders.

Recently, I was very sad to learn about the passing of my childhood best friend.  We had drifted apart over the years, but you never expect to hear that someone you grew up with has died.  Dreaming about my friend should not have been a shock.  And dreaming about us in a situation that we both had fond memories of (being at school together) seemed like the perfect place to find her.  She was in her school uniform, aged in her early teens, and I passed her in a corridor on my way to a lesson somewhere.  I stopped her and she looked at me with a peaceful expression but she didn’t quite look as if she was really seeing me.  I asked her if she was okay and she said that she was.  I put my hand on her arm and said I had heard that she had died and she laughed, seemingly a bit annoyed, and asked me where I had heard that one.  I told her another school friend had told me and she snorted and said ‘why on earth did she do that?’   My friend looked… different.  I’m not sure what it was about her, whether it was because I was remembering her as her younger self, or I was perhaps having trouble remembering her face and my mind was filling in the missing details (although I can see her as clear as day in my mind while I write this).  It was quite an emotional experience because I knew, of course, deep down, that she was no longer living. Then my grandmother made an appearance too – not sure what she was doing at my old school – but she hardly seemed to notice me and just went about her business.  I moved on to my old form room where some old school friends who I haven’t thought about in a long time were sitting around chatting.  One of them was sporting a black eye.  Well, he had been a particularly irritating child at school, so maybe that was a subconscious wish on my part.

WE NEED A BIGGER TUB…

We sat around watching some kind of slide show about clocks – what else? – when I noticed a stack of old looking documents beside me and I thought, ‘ they must be from the asylum!’  Of course.  Where else would a stack of old looking documents have come from?  It’s my dream, and I say they came from an asylum.  I picked up an old white envelop that was busy turning a nice shade of brown and noticed it was dated long ago.  It appeared to be an envelop full of photographs.  I pulled one out to look at it and it was a photo of an inmate taking a bath whilst at an asylum.  The inmate was wrapped in some kind of sheeting and looked for all the world to be… wait, was that Kim Basinger?  I frowned at the photo wondering what on earth she was doing there and then I became aware that there was a figure standing just behind me.  It was ethereal and glowing and looked a little bit curious as to why I was holding an old sepia photo of her having a bath in asylum settings.  The ghost of Ms Basinger looked at me for a moment and, feeling that I was holding something that was very much her property, I gave her the envelope of photos with an muttered apology.  She smiled and I knew that if I looked away for a moment then she would be gone.  And I was right.  I turned to look at my schoolmate with his black eye and then when I turned back she had, indeed, gone.  I felt as if I had experienced something truly incredible.  Although now I am somewhat concerned that something has happened to Kim, so I’m just going to do a quick Google to make sure she’s okay…

I wonder what it is that makes us dream about seemingly random people.  And I wonder if it means anything.  It was nice to see my friend one last time though.

Nicola

©Nicola Kirk 2016 and www.nicolakirk.wordpress.com

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Tag Cloud

%d bloggers like this: