Prior to learning the truth about the townhouse, on the first night that we slept in our new home, I awoke and saw the most unusual things occuring around me...things I would come to expect to see, each night for the next several years. I had not been sleeping for very long on that first night, when I felt compelled to open my eyes. I was astonished and frightened to see my bedroom filled with candles. Every available space was filled with brightly, burning candles. But the most frightening sight was that of my husband...his sleeping body was completely surrounded by the candles, all laid side by side on the bed, outlining his body. I remember feeling terribly anxious...disbelieving...and I slowly reached toward a candle next to him. In an instant, all the candles, every single one of them, gathered together before me, and moved swiftly up toward the ceiling, and with the greatest speed, disappeared through the wall above my head, close to the ceiling. This would be the pattern that all things I saw, would take.

The things I see at night, only take place in my bedroom. Rod is always present, though asleep and unaware. When I wake him, the objects disappear rapidly, leaving through the wall...not just disappearing in thin air, as one would imagine they might. I have always found that to be rather odd. Hmmm...seeing the things at all is rather odd, no? And each of the objects I see appear to have a life-like quality..as though they have the ability to see me. Indeed, as soon as I reach toward them, (sometimes I am frightened to do so, depending on the appearance of the object) they leave. I should like to mention something of note at this point. I am nearsighted..I need corrective lenses in order to see clearly. Strangely enough, when I open my eyes and see these objects, they appear unclear. I had decided at one point, to leave a pair of glasses on my nighttable..to see if putting them on would improve my perception of the objects..and...to prove to myself that I was not out of my mind. Just as I had thought it would, donning the glasses always improved the clarity of the objects. But seeing the objects more clearly seemed to cause them to leave more rapidly. Another oddity is the fact that the majority of the objects are child-related. Dolls, trucks, rocking horses, bubbles, balloons, coloured streamers. And sometimes the complete opposite...guns, all manner of guns; cameras, in every area of the ceiling..old cameras, nineteenth century cameras... What on earth does all of this mean? If anyone visiting has any ideas regarding this, please, I would love to know of them.

I have vivid memories of each and every night where I have seen these objects. But there are two incidents that stand apart from all of the others. The first involves a little, glass ball, filled with potpourri. I was asleep, and as always happens, I felt compelled to open my eyes. Suspended before my eyes was the glass ball, comparable to a Christmas tree ornament, but a wee bit larger. It was illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the closed window blinds. Lovely potpourri filled its interior. I reached for my glasses, and the ball swiftly moved away from me, moved straight above me toward the ceiling, then stopped short, and I watched in utter amazement as it penetrated the wall, just at the point where it meets the ceiling...but this time, very slowly..so very slowly, it disappeared through the wall, fraction, by fraction...but....only the glass ball..... With each movement, the potpourri was pushed up against the opposite end of the ball, seemingly unable to penetrate the wall. ????? And finally, the ball disappeared, and that potpourri hung, suspended for a moment, on the wall, and then just slid down the wall, behind the headboard of my bed. Now, I had gotten to the point where I would see something and not even bother to shake Rod anymore. But not this night. I elbowed him with the greatest force, causing him to bolt upright in bed. I made him look behind the bed to check if the potpourri lay there. It was nowhere... Again, the familiar look... Sigh...

The second most astonishing incident, though not any more incredible than the last one, involved a wreath...a wreath that I had made only the week prior to the night it appeared before me. Again, sleeping, comfortably, and being rudely awakened (sadly, yes, I was becoming rather annoyed at this point..perhaps because I was unaware of the purpose of any of it) by a wreath, hovering above my chest, very close to my face. The wreath, as mentioned, was one I had made a week earlier, for a charity function. But there was something terribly frightening about it now, as it hung above my chest. It was dripping blood...upon the blankets which covered me. Were it just for the wreath, I would not have been terribly bothered. The blood unnerved me completely. I gasped, unable to contain my horror. As fast as lightning, that wreath sailed backward across the room, not straight up to the celing this time, but backward, across the room, toward our open door. But, rather than go through the door, as it appeared to be doing, it went behindit. I lay there for a moment, staring at the door. We had been leaving the bathroom light on for several nights, as Kaitlin had been having bad dreams. The light from the bathroom cast a stream of light through our open door, appearing on our bedroom ceiling as a narrow band, opposite our bedroom doorway. As I stared at the door, heart pounding, I was utterly astonished to witness that wreath peer out from behind the door, and dart back behind it when it 'saw' me. It was then that my mouth opened, unbidden..and the name 'Rod' erupted, almost inaudibly, from my throat. At that very second, the wreath darted out from its shelter and the most wondrous thing happened. That wreath moved swiftly toward the beam of light on the ceiling, and after two or three attempts at lining itself up with the beam, disappeared into that shaft of light on the ceiling. Rod never heard my cry.

The birth of our darling little boy, Brandon, made it necessary to move once again. We were able to purchase a house this time, and bought the one in which we now live. I was relieved at the prospect of moving. I was convinced that in doing so, I would no longer be plagued nightly by the unknown. I was wrong. Upon going to sleep the first night in our present house, I again saw the candles...the exact same scenario as had occurred the first night at the townhouse. I have not seen a thing for some time now...months, in fact. And I do not know why. Nor do I say aloud that I have seen nothing, for in the past, when weeks pass and I see nothing and I happen to mention it to someone, surely, that night I am visited once again, for weeks on end.. Perhaps I am being superstitious. Definitely I am being cautious, for though I am intrigued, to say the least, by the objects I see at night, I do not enjoy the experience at all. Not to mention the affect having fragmented sleep has on me. Gosh...I do hope that talking about the subject here does not invite any further visitations.

While I was growing up, I had a very favourite aunt, named Vie. Aunt Vie always had a special place in my heart. I loved her so very much. She was kind and loving, and she made me laugh. We were like good friends. Though we called her 'aunt', Aunt Vie was not a blood relative. But that mattered not..she may as well have been. My Dad met Aunt Vie and Uncle Harry at their home in Sarnia, Ontario, prior to marrying my mother. He had run out of gas and knocked on their door, asking to use their telephone. They welcomed him into their home, and the rest is sweet history.

There is a reason why I mention Aunt Vie on this page. When Kaitlin was about two years old, and we had been living in our townhouse for almost two years, I had lost touch with Aunt Vie. She still lived in Sarnia, and my parents visited her from time to time, but I had become quite busy with my own life, and, sadly, did not keep in touch with Aunt Vie as I should have. There came a point where I knew I needed to see her. I would dream about her quite frequently. Always, in my dreams, I would be trying to contact Aunt Vie, either by telephoning her, or going to visit her. If I was using the telephone to call her, never would I receive an answer. Either that or I could not find her telephone number. Many times I would dream that I was going to her house. I would walk up and down her street, never being able to locate her house, though I know quite well the street she lived on.

I decided to call Aunt Vie one day and arranged to visit her for a weekend, on my own. She was delighted to hear from me as I was to hear her voice. Unfortunately, she had plans for the following few weekends. We decided to leave it at that, and I promised to call her in a few weeks to make other arrangements. A couple weeks passed. One night, I awoke in a cold sweat. I was horrified to see tubes protruding from my body...tubes such as those seen at a hospital, on a patient. The following night, I awoke to find my side of the bed surrounded by a lush garden. A birdhouse stood nearby amidst greenery. Having seen oddities for some time, I did not put much stock into what I was now seeing, though these incidents were quite different from any other. The next night, a pair of what appeared to be copper hands and feet, were hung on the wall next to my bed..like plaques...and they moved wildly about against the wall, thrashing and swaying back and forth. These three visions would repeat themselves over the course of a week...the tubes, the garden, and the copper hands and feet. At the end of that week, I received a phone call early one morning after Rod had gone to work, and Lauren had left for school. It was Lorraine, my cousin from Sarnia..Aunt Vie's daughter. Aunt Vie had suffered a massive brain aneurism the afternoon before. She had been working in her garden... She had apparently bent down and collapsed there. A neighbour found her. They know not how long she had been laying there, but she was alive when the neighbour found her. And she was alive when Lorraine called me...but it did not look very good. I was devastated. I was wracked with guilt. Why had I not taken the time to see her? Why did I not call her more often? Lorraine called me again, later that day. My darling Aunt Vie passed away late that afternoon.

My parents, sister, and brothers all prepared to go to Sarnia for Aunt Vie's funeral. I did not go.. I could not bring myself to go. I didn't feel I could handle it. I had spoken to my mother and sister before they left about the strange events which took place that week, at night in my room. I felt, somehow, that what I had experienced was some kind of premonition about Aunt Vie's death. I would wonder about that the entire time my family was in Sarnia. When they returned, my sister came to visit me. Shar told me that she purposely went into Aunt Vie's garden in order to be able to describe to me how it appeared. She described to me precisely the garden I had seen next to my bed on those nights, complete with the little birdhouse. She then told me that while Aunt Vie was in hospital, she had all manner of tubes inserted in her body, keeping her alive. Though she was unconcious, her feet and hands thrashed constantly, forcing the staff to restrain her. I know in my heart that my dear Aunt Vie was trying her best to make me aware of her that week before she died... I shall always love my Aunt Vie. I can see, yet, her smiling eyes, hear her resonant laughter, feel her warm embrace.. Her memory shall be ever alive in my heart...