Dr Ray Stantz: Of course you forget, Peter. I was present at an undersea, unexplained mass sponge migration.
Dr. Peter Venkman: Ray, the sponges migrated about a foot-and-a-half.
When we were shopping at a local (favorite) store in Springfield, we overheard a couple discussing with the clerk a problem with fairies. This doesn’t surprise me at all. Those are probably typical conversations in the type of store we were visiting, but also the Ozarks are a strange and weird place.
When I was in college studying for my English degree, I took a course on Hawthorne. While best known for The Scarlet Letter, he wrote short stories that centered about the weirdness of the New England area – as did H.P. Lovecraft.
The Ozarks gives me the same feeling those stories did. Here are a few of my experiences….
After leaving Springfield, it took almost an hour to get home. The beautiful drive took you along on a two lane state highway, winding its way through the Ozarks. Inevitably as soon as I passed a certain point, it was as if my sense of direction suddenly hit a wall; I no longer knew which direction I was going – and looking at maps, watching the cars’ directional compass (which also freaked out) never fixed it.
Even after being told numerous times – this was was north – I would still feel that it was east. Since I’m rather known for my sense of direction and almost inability to get lost, this was odd indeed.
The back of the property we rented faced into undeveloped woods. There were two beautiful trees which stretched over the back deck – and under one I did my first ceremony.
However, while I continued to love looking out the windows to see the beautiful birds attracted to our feeder, I never fully trusted to be in this area for any length of time. This was due to an incident when we were back there attempting a bit of cleanup. I bent over to fix the hose on the pump and something as firm as a hand shaking yours, patted me on my butt. I spun around thinking it was Grenwinae, only to find him working elsewhere in the yard.
I’m actually the opposite of an “imaginative” personality. I have been called by my siblings as practical. I’m feet on the ground. If you asked those who knew me if I was a person who imagined things they would probably spew milk out of their nose in surprise.
My upbringing and my genetics make me extremely guarded. I have protections on top of protections and I knew something was trying to breach those. I never went back there again unless I was with Grenwinae and I kept my time limited.
One of the big advantages to our property was that it was across from the Mark Twain National Forest. We had a lot of great experiences down there but here I will relate another inexplicable event.
I took Zara down there to graze many times. Learning to mind me and having a change of scenery was part of her training. On one trip down, Grenwinae went with me and took some time to explore a cement house foundation while I grazed my horse.
At one point, Zara and I came up through some light trees and when she saw Grenwinae sitting on the porch steps, she utterly freaked. Now horses freak out when they see something unusual or something out of place. That isn’t something to get concerned about or to start deciphering supernatural events. However, there were several tip offs to this specific time being an unusual event.
First, Zara is not a “spooky” horse. She is unflappable and there are many instances I could give to show you that she is more likely to charge something and eat it, than take a fright.
Next, she would not calm down as long as we stayed in the area – this was an horse in fear. When we moved from the spot, she immediately returned to her normal self. Most horses taking a fright, can remain nervous for an extended period of time even once removed from whatever stimuli excited them.
Grenwinae said he felt nothing but old, faint memories at the house remains but I never trusted that spot either. I have a symbiotic relationship with my horses that goes deeper than companionship. I trusted her response.
These are just a few of my stories. 🙂