Again with the spirits

A few ladies at the shelter tonight are asking about the presence of spirits here. It's not the first time I've heard it, though, thank god, the rumors started after I'd been working long enough to get solid nights of sleep.

I yelled at them (joking, of course) that I didn't want to hear about it--not when I was about to fall asleep in not-my-own-bed-safe-at-home. There are nights here when the ancient house settles and creaks, or maybe there's something more there. I am comfortable enough now to sleep soundly every Tuesday, but in earlier years, I'd toss and turn, jerking awake at every slight sound. My dreams would be vivid, near hallucinations. (Once I woke in the morning, certain that a man had been walking the porch outside my room all night, and when my boss took it seriously, I couldn't be sure if it actually happened or if it was part of my half-waking dreams.)

I believe that these women believe in spirits, but I can't say for sure that I do. I also can't say that I don't. When I was little, I saw and felt things all the time, but no one ever validated them for me--or assured me that I wasn't crazy--and of course I didn't tell anyone. I chalked everything up to my overactive imagination, too many Nancy Drews and Agatha Christies before the age of 10. So by the time I'm an adult and Tim finally tells me maybe what I thought I saw and felt maybe have actually been what I thought, it seems too late to take seriously.

But still I tread lightly when talking about that, and am respectful of the ideas and others' beliefs. You just never know.