Haunting Rhapsody

She came for only a brief visit that night, perhaps from a dual-sided realm, belonging to another reality. I had just laid down and closed my eyes with the intention of finding sleep but heard an undistinguishable, slight noise in the semi-darkness provided by a kitchen light. My head lifted ever so slightly thinking my child might have come for a visit. Instead, my eyes focused on she who stood at my bedroom door, illuminated by an infusion of light. Startled, my mind screamed, “Who is this woman?”, but before I could legitimize the direction of my thought process, she disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.

Quickly, I sat up in bed and reached to turn on the light. Surprise and something more akin to an incredulous lack of belief filled me. Had I just seen a ghost? She was gone, but the memory of exactly how she had appeared lingered vividly. It was not that I did not believe in life on the other side or ghosts, it was just that I’d never seen one appear before my very eyes during the fifty plus years I’d spent on this earth. Sure, I’d felt the energy of other beings I could not see, but no, I’d never had a visual before, and this one, where she was a full life, color version of herself. To this day, I can recall nearly everything about her without fail.

She was not a young girl, but appeared to be more like a woman in her thirties or forties. She was dressed in a full, purple-colored skirt that stopped just above her ankles along with a blousy, white shirt that ever so slightly off her shoulders. Her waist was cinched with a colorful scarf or tie, its ends hanging down along the front side of her skirt. Her hair, a golden, almost light brown color, reached to her shoulders in a multitude of ringlet curls. Her appearance strongly brought to mind the image of a Hungarian gypsy woman.

Wide-eyed and now fully awake, I wondered just what had attracted the gypsy woman and even pondered the possibility she was my Spirit Guide, but as the woman had not left that impression upon me, I quickly dismissed the thought. That evening, just before to bedtime, I had listened for several hours to a variety of classic Italian songs, better known as the Musica Bel Canto in Italy. I truly believe the natural and divine force of beauty found within the music, and most especially the rhapsodies of the violins, drew this ghostly woman to my home (or at least as brief as far as my eyes could detect). The next day, as I recalled the woman’s surprise appearance, I still found amazement in what had transpired, and I knew, without doubt, I had been privileged to see beyond my little world. It was all I needed to further validate a belief in other realms of possible life, well beyond our ken.

I believe there is much we do not understand and even more we will never know. Still, as we move precariously within the scope of our mere existence, we should take care to tread cautiously for you never know who may be watching from the shadows. Even now, as I sit alone at this computer, typing my recollection of a shift in reality, with my back turned against the interior of the room, I am compelled to turn around in order to ensure my solitude. After all, some such visitors may be inclined to make return visits when least expected.