My mother has always told me stories of her childhood, many of which consisting of folktales as well as real life instances. I always thought of them as just stories, nothing more. I thought it could only happen in the village areas or the older cities of Bangladesh and nowhere else. Even when I grew older and I researched these instances online and became more aware of the worlds around us, I still believed the other world was only a myth and nothing more.
It is said some people have gifts, a sixth sense you could say. Others don't believe in it, even the slightest bit. And believe me, I did not either. Until I witnessed it.
The first instance was when I was only 12, and I was in my parent's home country, visiting. We were in my grandparent's apartment that was quite spacious and very beautiful. The floors were smooth and white, the walls a cream beige color, the glass tables embellished with draped tablecloths, and the walls holding onto the memories of the people of our family.
It was a very hot summer day, and all anyone wanted to do was take a long nap until evening so that they could escape the heat. My family had all been taking a nap in their respective rooms, and my grandma had just awoken and got out into the living room as her friend had come for an unexpected visit. I was awake and had been tossing and turning in bed, too lazy to get up and wash my face to go meet the guest. It was about ten minutes later that I felt a smooth hand running through my curls. I was facing the window, so I couldn't see who it was, but I could feel it, and it felt like my grandfather's hand. Thing was: he died six months ago.
Yet, it felt like it was his hand, gracefully smoothing out my hair to lull me back to sleep. Turning around, I found an empty bed and an unsettling feeling in my heart. Rushing off the bed, I go in to wash my face, hoping it was all just a dream. However, when I came out into the room again, my heart stopped. He was right there where I left him, smiling at me. His face exactly how I remembered it, maybe a little more pale.
I could go on and on with the little details, proving what I had seen, but thing is I don't even know what I saw. Was it really him? I want to believe it was him, telling me his last good bye. I want to believe this was the last time this strange phenomenon had happened to me. But that's not all true.
It still happens to me. I see things that is not seen by a normal eye. Yet, I live my life as it is. With more research, I have found a world parallel to ours. However, I know not many people will buy into this, as humans we do not want to think of other worlds besides our own. We have this rightfully placed fear in our minds of new things. We do not want to think of anything outside of our boundaries, but this is our universe and we should.
We should open up our minds to what could be around us, to what could be right beside us. I will not bore you with the other stories, as that will take time, but think for a moment... Will this be a step to open our minds? Or will it be a step back?
Could we really go outside of our comfort zone and finally accept the people around us for who they are? Would we accept an unnatural species more than our neighbor with a headscarf?
Is my story really about a spirit, or is it much more than just a story? I'll leave you with that thought, for now. And maybe, if your mind is open, you will find the answer and hopefully, the will to send the message forward.