Art of Ghosts

Tonight as we're trying to finish watching the Canada/Russia jr. game, reminiscent of ol' '72, *Mila* came running down the stairs screaming about a white mist that she walked through.  "BAWWWW!  A ghost in my room and I walked right into it."

As the Universe is feeling off, I don't doubt that something haunts her room.  Which brings me to sitting beside the little girl (who will be sleeping with me as her big brave dad sleeps on the sectional) thinking about art with ghosts. 

 source:  art&ghosts and you can find more about Louise here.  Unbelievably haunting and so beautiful.  I'm speechless.  I'm aghast.

source:  jonas löfgren & ingest some of his art here.  As bob & doug used to say...."Beauty!"

source:  nendo's cabbage chair find it here.  The only fright associated with this ghost story is that I don't own this chair!  Sweetness.

source:  malformed bones by angie iver.  Found her on deviant art's page here.  Unreal how talented this young lady is.

P.S. The ghost has caused miss *Mila* to drink beer and do handstands on the couch.  Oooooh scary!

signed, the willow

Truth Wizards & Soothsayers

Lately, like many other Canadian mothers, I have become unnerved (to put it mildly) about the case of the missing 8-year-old girl, Tori Stafford, of Woodstock, Ontario. Her sweet little face lurks in my mind all day, every day since she disappeared on April 8th this year. Two suspects have been arrested and charged with first degree murder in the case. You can read about it here. Because I really wouldn't want even the names of the two on my blog or anywhere near me.

What scares me the most here is that I have had two specific dreams/visions of this little girl and thus far, some of this has so far come true. Unfortunately, the details are far too grim for me to post here and I don't want anyone to be led astray by my personal opinions as it is so hard for me to be objective and keep my personal opinions out of this case. I have been sleuthing far too much on this case and I am now so fixated and so involved, in my own little way, that I personally feel responsible for helping the family uncover the truth. No one deserves to hear the news that Tori Stafford's family had to hear.

I do want to point you in the direction of two very interesting people with sensitivities. Sensitivities that some may not believe exist. I do believe in their sensitivities and feel as though there is truth in their intuition.

Meet Christine Hamlett (from the "Rescue Mediums") and Eyes from 'Eyes for Lies'. Although I have yet to see the Fox show "Lie to Me" that is based on Eyes' skill, I have been a regular viewer of Christine on "Rescue Mediums". I do hope that the police take their perspectives into consideration, as nothing should be ruled out at this point.

signed, the willow

Have you seen this map before?

Is it a map to a campground or a cemetery?

signed, the willow

GSP? GST? GPS?

Every January comes with a full load of psychic abilities. Not sure why it happens, but Lady of the Lake can attest to some psychic dreams too.

Sometimes, my spidey-sense works things out by sorting them categorically in life. Revealed this time as coincidence.

I am a wife and mother. I don't watch UFC fighting. Not that I can't keep up with all these modern day ways of punching each other's lights out. Me, personally? I would prefer to throw upper cuts at my husband's jaw on the Wii. So, home comes *Steve* yesterday with his story of GSP. "Georges St. Pierre. He's French, you know." Thank you *Steve*. I suppose you're going to tell me that the Bloc Quebecois speak French too. GSP is some welterweight or middleweight punching, biting, scratching, kicking, hitting guy. After hearing this story, which boils down to not much other than a co-worker being compared to GSP and being called GCB (or something of the like), I decide to melt this out of my mind. But wait, not going to happen. After accepting a Facebook invitation yesterday from a baby brother of a classmate of mine from grade school, I decide to flip through his photos on Facebook. And there he is with GSP, shaking hands. Yes, the UFC dude. Maybe this GSP guy gets around. Maybe men watch too much fighting on tv. Maybe my Facebook friend is a GSP stalker? Maybe, I should get a GPS and find my way out of this.

signed, the willow

A Simpler Time

A look at some artifacts at the Customs House in Hamilton. We didn't see any ghosts here...or did we? A mysterious janitor appeared out of nowhere. Where did he come from?

Last night we had the pleasure of turning off our lights for one hour (oh and our computers, hence my Saturday delayed blogging). I thought it was going to be fun for *Mila*. It didn't start to get fun until we heard a strange, yet ghastly, noise to indicate that our house is indeed haunted. Despite what *Steve* wants to tell you. I really believed that *Mila* was going to love it. She started to enjoy herself as she marvelled at me playing with hot wax. Yes, bad example, I know. But I love to dip things in hot wax and mold it around. Okay. Enough! I have never heard her complain more about "turn on the lights so I can see". What I did find most remarkable was that our neighbourhood was dim. 90% of our neighbourhood opts not to use their green bins. But, I'm guessing 90% choose to participate in Earth Hour. I wonder if kids were enticed to pledge their hour at school. Boston Pizza, behind our abodes, dimmed their indoor lights and turned off their outdoor lights while they were still open! Good for you Boston Pizza! Some of the other businesses (Canadian Tire being one) chose to be closed and have their lights turn on at around 7:45 pm as the sun went down. Granted it was probably a timer. But, come on! If a restaurant that specializes in late night snacks and meals can shut off their advertisement of a sign glowing of energy-sucking neon, than so can a Tire store that is closed. Just an idea.

signed, the willow

My hallway ghost

Ok, *Steve* is probably still peeing his pants thinking about my description of what haunts me. When I am standing by the sink, looking in the bathroom mirror, I see shadows moving behind me. It spooks me out and *Steve* says its nothing because he doesn't have a keen sense of spookiness like I do. Yesterday, I asked him to just listen to my description of this spirit. Don't judge, just listen. So I described these shadows that zoom behind me and how I just get the sense that they remind me of someone....Danny Devito.

Yes, I am haunted by something like a 'Danny Devito' in the hallway and not only am I the laughing stock of the house, I am now the laughing stock of the internet. I think if it were a 'Christopher Walken' or a 'Bela Lugosi' *Steve* might take me serious. But because I chose to describe my "ghost" as 'Danny Devito-like' it is only slightly funny and slightly creepy.

signed, the willow

After this life what will I be?

I had to explain today about life after death. How can I explain that? I've no experience. Or have I? And if I have, it's obvious that the Haitian from 'Heroes' has come to erase my entire memory of it. OK, so the reason that I write of this is because I heard a lady say she wanted to be a dog in her next life. What a life! A dog? Don't get me wrong. I love dogs. I mean LOVE dogs. I just don't think it's an ideal life. Someone whips you around by the neck with a collar and leash. You are forced to eat toenails and chicken beaks (I've seen these strange hairs sticking out of the treats and they are nasty!). Why a dog?

What is this little collection? A rock and of course a pine cone. I find pine cones everywhere. We have two coniferous trees out back, none with cones. Or rather, cones that are not picked or even noticed. We have pine cones from Northwestern Ontario, Lake Superior, Muskoka, Southern Ontario. Every where we go, *Mila* finds a pine cone, stashes it in her pocket for like four hours and then stores it in the oddest of places. I found under her bed an entire shoe box full of rocks, leaves and pine cones. Instead of tossing it, I labeled it "Treasures" and I put it back where I found it. After all, when I "come back" as a dog, I might need to gnaw on one of those pine cones to pluck the toenails from my teeth.

signed, the willow.

Indigo Dreams

Do you ever have those dreams that you can’t shake for the whole day? The type that has a “message” that you must do something about. About a month ago (well it was January 22nd to be exact) I had a very vivid and unexplained dream about a little blonde girl and she had been abducted or something had happened to her. I feel she was dead. It wasn’t my daughter. There was a silver car involved, distinct and important. The car was worth noting, but there was something very unusual about it. I was looking for this girl with my mom and a friend driving around in this pick-up truck. It was so vivid. We drove back and forth, up and down Front Street in Sioux Lookout looking for this girl. I could see her face in my mind in the dream and there was a man in the silver car. He did something to her, but I wasn’t sure if he was really bad or not. It was vivid and disturbing. I wrote it down in the morning and I had this sense it had really happened. It felt like something west coast to me. Vancouver or Washington.

Just this last week I had this need to google “indigo child” in the news. Up came a picture of this little girl. The same girl from my dream. She had been out in a schoolyard being towed around by her dad on an inflatable raft behind his pick-up truck. She of course had passed away tragically. Her spirit was so unique that they often described her as being the classic “Indigo Child”. I had the dream on January 22nd and her funeral was the 23rd. She died on January 16th and the accident happened in Washington. She was from Vancouver, Washington and had spent most of her life there. I knew there was something more to this dream that made it stand out. I felt like that little girl was calling me, trying to get me to do something or solve the mystery of her death.

http://www.columbian.com/news/localNews/01242007news96523.cfm


I wonder what the car had to do with my dream? Perhaps the teenager present at the accident had a silver car? Perhaps the raft or tube was silver?

http://www.columbian.com/obituaries/obitResults.cfm?date=01/21/2007

Her name was Madison Gecho and maybe Madison reached out to me to confirm something to me, I am an Indigo Child. Perhaps her message was delivered all over this world. Most disturbing to me is her grandmother’s nickname of Kiki. That is my nickname. Maybe I will never solve what she needed me to solve. Maybe I will be left with it haunting me. But there was an understanding in that dream. It wasn’t a dream. It carried a message and I knew it. So I wrote it down. I wouldn’t be the first person in my family to do this. Have such dreams. Would I?!

May Madison's spirit rest, for her return will be with her family again. Her old soul is alive and refuelling with spirit. She will come back to her loved ones. In true Indigo style and true Indigo determination.

signed, the willow