Posted by WFMeyer On March 24th, 2014
This is from a dream that was so realistic it shook me up. It also left me thinking – a lot.
In the dream:
I woke as if a fade-in to daylight. I can’t pinpoint it exactly but our bedroom looked different somehow. I went downstairs and saw my sisters sitting in the living room and dining room. They were looking off in the distance or looking down at photo albums, not talking to each other. It seemed normal to me and I didn’t acknowledge them.
I wondered where my wife Maria was. I wanted to talk to her, but she wasn’t downstairs. I went back up to the office and she wasn’t there. I heard a noise in the bedroom and I went in. Maria was there, sitting on the bed. She looked pensively at my cell phone as she placed it in a small container. She didn’t look up at me. I wondered if she was upset at me for something as she walked out of the room. I followed, but she was already gone. I went back downstairs where my sisters were, but Maria wasn’t there. I figured I’d call her but I couldn’t find my phone. My sister Jessica sat in our favorite, colorful reading chair and told me to look in the dining room, or the bedroom. I did, but it wasn’t there. I couldn’t find my phone anywhere. I urgently wanted to contact Maria.
My laptop was open, but it looked like someone else was controlling it. I couldn’t make the cursor go where I wanted. I was frustrated and wondered if it was my son remotely accessing my computer. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t will the computer to go to one of my email accounts to send Maria a message.
Downstairs was dark and depressing. My sisters just sat staring into space. I went upstairs to see if Maria was anywhere up there. As I moved down the hall to our bedroom, I noticed movement outside on the street. I stood fully in the frame of the window and looked down. There was Maria with a man, shorter than me, but also more slender. He had dark, wavy salt and pepper hair and smiled a lot. He was putting bags into the trunk of a dark colored, expensive looking sedan.
It had rained, the street was wet. Maria was wearing the same green dress she wore to the wedding of some friends of ours this past summer. She stood quietly, her hands folded together in front of her, watching the man put the bags in the sedan.
What was she doing? Who was that guy? Why was she dressed like that? Why was she with him and where was she going with him? All at once I felt confused, angry, and jealous. Desperation overtook me. I banged on the window and called out, “Maria, where are you going? Why are you leaving me?”
Maria looked over her shoulder; a quizzical expression crossed her face. She turned and faced the house and looked up right at the window in which I stood. Her face was calm, her eyes large and dark. Even from where I was I could see her eyes brimming with tears. I desperately wanted to race downstairs, throw open the front door, run to her and hold her in my arms. Inherently I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go outside, and I couldn’t hold her. I didn’t know why and I didn’t question it.
Our eyes were locked on one another for several moments. Maria looked away, my heart sank and then broke as she opened the passenger door of the sedan and got in. The man closed the trunk, got behind the wheel and he drove away with my Maria, my wife, my best friend.
I went downstairs in a daze. All the rooms echoed with an unnerving stillness and quiet. In the pale gray light, I could see all the rooms were now devoid of people, furnishings – and life.
I never felt so alone.
When I woke from the dream:
It was still early; light was just beginning to filter between the blinds. It really rattled me. I looked to my right and was so relieved to see Maria sleeping next to me. I went downstairs to clear my head and get some water.
It was such a powerful dream, and then I thought of the deeper meaning behind it. During the dream it never once occurred to me that I was a ghost. Not one bit.
The line from the movie Sixth Sense played in my head when Cole said, “Walking around like regular people…They only see what they want to see. They don’t know they’re dead.”
That’s how I felt in my dream, I felt like I was moving around like a regular person, seeing what I wanted to see, believing what I wanted to believe but unable to control what was happening in front of me. Time didn’t seem to exist. I transitioned from one scene to the next as if they happened from moment to moment. I was dead, but didn’t know it. I wouldn’t accept it – couldn’t accept it. My experiences felt and looked real.
If this is what it’s really like being a ghost, then it really sucks. I completely understand why most are sad, confused and angry. They’re trapped. They are alone and don’t know what to do or where to go. They are observers and limited in their interactions and can’t control anything around them. It is a really shitty dilemma.
That feeling I had of knowing I can’t go outside – was that a mechanism to protect me, or control my free will? If I fought against it, broke free of the house and went outside, would I be lost, destroyed, feel pain? Would the truth that I had died be somehow revealed to me? Or would it take away my pain by liberating and cleansing my soul, forgetting all that I knew, and all that I lost – and return me, my soul, to the field of pure energy, pure potentiality?
All I know is, when it’s my time to go, I really don’t want to become a ghost.
For those of you who don’t know, I’ve been involved in paranormal investigations for the better part of 15 years.
After experiencing that dream it changed the way I approach all current and future investigations. I have a greater empathy for entities. The biggest question I now have is how the hell can I truly help them them break away from their prisons and set them free?
Posted by Whiskey Bill On March 11th, 2014
Late last year we joined the Writer’s Night Out group through the New Hampshire Writer’s Project. It’s a bunch of folks, with a passion for the written word, who get together at a bar/restaurant and discuss the craft of writing, books and publishing, over food and drinks. We also read stories we’ve written to be critiqued by the group.
There was a Flash Fiction competition in the state. Each story was supposed to be 500 or fewer words and you had to be able to read it out loud in less than 3-minutes. The competition culminated in a grand soiree at a local university.
Unfinished Business was written for the competition. It’s based on something called cellular memory phenomenon, which occurs when people receive donated organs. They reportedly develop character traits of the person from who the donated organ came from. Due to my late entry, I didn’t get a chance to read it for the judges, so it wasn’t entered. Oh well, it starts again in September.
When I received Eric’s heart five years ago, he tried taking his life just as I was trying to save my own.
I only had six months to live, and boy I wanted to live. Luckily Eric was an organ donor. He was brain dead, but they kept him alive long enough to harvest organs others so desperately needed.
My recovery went better than expected. My natural optimism improved when I realized I had a new lease on life. I needed to thank someone for this second chance. Eric left a widow. I wanted to reach out to her to tell her how thankful I was for Eric’s gift, and to let her know a part of him still lives in me. She was willing, and we met.
Cindy and I talked – a lot. She was a widow and I was divorced a long time. As we talked it felt like we’ve known each other for years. We courted and fell in love. Since I was retired and living in an apartment, it made sense for me to move into her house. Cindy and I were married a year later.
Life was good, for a while at least. Cindy continued working at the hospital and I pursued my hobby of tying lures and fly fishing. I always loved fishing, but for some reason I began to lose interest in it. Even worse I began losing my taste for the trout I was catching. It got to the point where I no longer liked the taste of any fish. I couldn’t even eat tuna. I used to love tuna salad. When I told Cindy, she said, “Huh, that’s funny Eric hated seafood too.”
Then my positive outlook darkened, then disappear. I became depressed. I lost interest in all my old hobbies, but found a new one in drinking, which is something I couldn’t stomach in the past. I skulked around the house brooding instead of getting out. One day sitting on an easy chair looking out the window, a drink clenched in my hand, Cindy came into the room. She stood there watching me. I didn’t bother turning to look at her. She said, “Ben? Are you okay? You remind me of Eric the way you’re sitting there. It’s…kind of unsettling.” I didn’t answer; I just kept staring out the window at nothing.
With Cindy at work, I now find myself in the middle of the garage sitting on a blue folding chair, with the doors closed. Somehow it all feels right – like I’m supposed to be here in the garage, on this chair, holding this shotgun I found in the cabinet. I feel like I’m outside myself, like someone else as I rack a slug into the chamber and place the muzzle of the gun under my chin. My left hand holds the barrel, while my right slides down the gun and finds the trigger guard. I know this time I won’t fail as my thumb finds the trigger…
Posted by Whiskey Bill On March 8th, 2014
William “Wild Bill” Guarnere was one tough motherfucker. He was one of the original Currahee Band of Brothers of Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division. He joined his brother’s-in-arms at the age of 90.
Guarnere earned the nickname “Wild Bill” because of his reckless attitude in attacking the Germans after learning his brother had been killed at Monte Cassino. He known as a terror on the battlefield, fiercely attacking the Germans he came into contact with.
After parachuting into Normandy on D-Day, his squad ran into a German supply platoon coming and took up an ambush position. Going against Lieutenant Winters orders to wait for his command; Guarnere wanted to avenge his brother, took the initiative and opened fire first, killing most of the unit.
Guarnere was wounded in October 1944, and returned to Easy Company still wounded and against orders. He just wanted to be back with his unit. He was caught, court-martialed, and demoted to private, but was returned to Easy not long afterward.
During the Battle of the Bulge in Belgium, Easy was holding the line just up the hill south west of Foy, a massive artillery barrage hit the men in their position. Guarnere’s friend Joe Toye was severely wounded during an artillery barrage. Guarnere ran to his friends’ aid to get Joe to a field hospital when another shell struck close by and blew Wild Bill’s right leg of too. This was the end of the war for Wild Bill.
Guarnere received the Silver Star for combat during the Brecourt Manor Assault on D-Day, and was later decorated with two Bronze Stars and two Purple Hearts, making him one of only two Easy Company members (the other being Lynn Compton) to be awarded the Silver Star throughout the duration of the war while a member of Easy.
Bill Guarnere lived out his life doing all sorts of odd jobs and being heavily involved in veteran affairs. I remember seeing a special where Wild Bill and Edward “Babe” Hefron (who died only back on December 1, 2013 at age 90), were touring the forest outside of Foy where Easy was held up in a desperate situation. They visited the site where their brother’s Warren “Skip” Muck and Alex Penkala were blown to bits by a direct hit on their foxhole by a German artillery round.
In his autobiography, Beyond Band of Brothers; Memoirs of Major Richard Winters, Richard “Dick” Winters referred to Ronald Speirs and Guarnere as “natural killers”. It was mentioned with the utmost respect.
Although Wild Bill was 90, it still makes me melancholy this warrior has now passed into history.
I raise my glass as a toast to you Wild Bill, life well lived, and one hell of a story. RIP.
Posted by Werner On December 12th, 2013
Stay Another Night is the first novel I’ve read P.S. Meroneck, and I’m glad I did.
Meroneck is an accomplished craftsman crafting memorable characters and building lavish scenes and settings that throw you right in the middle of all the action. As the suspense builds, romance, raw sexual energy, and an ever present undercurrent of danger spill over, setting us up for an ending with a twist you don’t see coming.
Coco Stevens isn’t just beautiful and sexy; she’s also smart—very smart.
At a young age, Coco’s father was murdered right in front of her. With her father gone, her mother finds turning tricks to be more lucrative than working a typical nine to five. But after one of her mother’s “boyfriends” makes a move on her, Coco decides she’s better off on her own and runs away.
A runaway, Coco makes ends meet working at a “Gentleman’s Club.” Although under age, her curvaceous looks make her appear older. Fortunately for Coco, the strip club is raided, and the investigation allows her to become reunited with her mother, who has turned her life around.
But just when life is looking up, it gets more complicated for Coco.
Unfortunately for Coco, what she doesn’t know is that she caught the eye of Sam Spielman, the owner of the Gentleman’s Club. As soon as she graduates from school, the older man sweeps her into a lavish life in the fast lane, which is more even more dangerous due to Spielman’s shadowy businesses. Can Coco stay clear of Spielman’s dark side while enjoying the ride?
The story takes us on a ride from the glitz and glamour of L.A. and Vegas, to the savannas of Kenya, from the sands of the Barbados to the medieval charm of Prague. Coco is rocketed into Super Model and then Hollywood stardom. In the midst of it all, Coco struggles to stay pure in a place where everyone wants her—wants to meet her, wants to be her.
Then, Coco’s perfect life is turned upside down when she uncovers a dark secret about the man she loves with all her heart.
Can Coco finally wrench control of her life away from others? Can she finally get justice and destroy the man who is hurting her—even if he’s her true love?
This suspense-thriller was a lot of fun to read and hard to put down. I totally recommend you pick it up and enjoy the adventure!
Posted by Werner On September 11th, 2013
No matter how many years pass, the events of this day are still close and vivid.
First came the call from Mary about a plane hitting the North Tower. I downplayed it saying it was probably a small plane like a Cessna.
There were increasing reports. Concern grows.
My boss Bob, a former New Yorker, comes in talking about it and says there’s a TV the night crew uses.
It’s a lot worse than I could ever imagine. Mary calls again, she talked to Kathy, her husband Guy is in the North Tower – and can’t reach him.
People show up at work and go right to the TV. We watch totally engrossed.
THEN EVERYTHING CHANGES
The second plane hits the South Tower.
Shock and anger ensues.
Reports of other planes are off the radar.
Another hits the Pentagon.
Time compresses. I suddenly think, ‘I had dinner with Al the other day. Was he flying back to New York today? Was he on one of those planes?’
Another plane goes down in rural Pennsylvania.
“I didn’t just see that. That did not just happen!”
I could never fathom those buildings falling down. It was the furthest thing from my mind.
The South Tower was gone.
I’m thinking – there’s upward over 20,000 people in each of those buildings!
I am furious. I storm off into my office and throw a pen so hard it is imbedded an inch into the plaster wall.
Mike shows up – he knows the score – there is panic etched on his face.
I go back to the TV willing Guy to “run, FUCKING RUN!”
The building falls. I’m sure Guy is gone.
How unfair. He and Kathy wanted a child for so long, now they have one and he won’t be there.
The entire World Trade Plaza is destroyed and on fire.
The markets closed. Bob sends everyone home.
I walk out in Harvard Square and wonder ‘How the hell can these kids walk around looking like they don’t have a care in the world? And they’re smiling? How the fuck can they be smiling! Don’t they know what happened today? Don’t they realize everything has changed forever?’
We go home in Mike’s car. He wants me to drive.
We see military vehicles and State Troopers racing all over the place.
They’re wearing armored gear and carrying automatic weapons.
We are worried.
Is there more to come? Will planes keep falling out of the sky all day?
It’s an endless night in front of the TV and a longer week.
The tears come frequently and easily and the anger is always there.
The chips were down and New Yorkers pulled together BIG TIME. Everyone helped in every way they could. They provided rides to strangers when public transportation was down. They got involved in the earliest recovery efforts at Ground Zero. Others provided food, drink and shelter for everyone working at the site.
The place that became Ground Zero smoldered for months. It became the crematory for over 1,000 people whose remains were never recovered.
When Mike and I go back to work – we drive.
Coming home one night there is a candle light vigil for all the victims.
Every bridge and overpass is festooned with the flag – people lining the railings with candles
Every home we pass people are outside with candles
Our chests swell with pride. You can’t wipe the smiles from our faces.
A most powerful event.
I have never been prouder of America and American’s.
There was good news Guy made it!
Two months after that day, we sat down and he told me in detail about what he saw and experienced that day. To say it was traumatic is a gross understatement.
He lost 34 friends and co-workers
- A former co-worker Kevin, lost his fiancé’. She was a flight attendant on the first plane.
- Another former co-worker Matt, lost a good friend on the second plane.
- Tommy knew dozens of the firemen who perished. He stayed in his home punching the wall so he wouldn’t go out and kill somebody.
- Anotther friend named Mike lost 7 friends and acquaintances.
- Former classmate Dennis, of the NYPD, was on his way home when it began. By the time he got back he lost 11 friends.
- George went down a week later to help find the trapped and wounded. When he got back he told me, “Wern, there were no survivors, there was no one to save. There weren’t even bodies – just parts and pieces of bodies. A part of a hand here, a ribcage there, a piece of skull over there. That’s it.”
Guy and Kathy are still married and their son Daniel is now a teenager. Guy never talks about that day and never goes to any of the memorial ceremonies
Dennis has since retired from the force – he couldn’t wait for the day. He now spends his time living in Florida and going fishing off his boat.
The events of that day fundamentally changed me and how I look at the world.
It left me very angry for the first 10 years.
Now that emotion burns far less brightly than it once did.
I now long for peace.
Posted by Werner On September 8th, 2013
This comes courtesy of Coppyblogger – one of my favorite blogs.
I like this – it makes perfect sense…to me ;)