The Lady at the End of My Bed

A man in New Orleans recalls the ‘ghost lady’ that he regularly encountered and talked to when he was a child living in Forney, Texas.

The following note was recently forwarded to me 😛 TAGEND

“My name is JP and I currently live in New Orleans, but I’m originally from Texas; about 30 instants east of Dallas, in a little town called Forney. Anyway, this story happened there in about 1992, when I was around five years old, and living in a home with my mommy, dad, and babe sister. I vaguely remember this incident for the most part; exclusively bits and pieces of detail overall. But have since spoken with my mother about it, and as recently as a couple weeks ago created it up again with her got to make sure I had the details straight.

I had my own bedroom of members of this house. One afternoon while my dad was at work, I was in my bedroom playing with my Matchbox automobiles and other playthings while my mom was in the kitchen getting lunch prepared for us. Harmonizing to her, she heard what i said talking. This in itself wasn’t out of the ordinary; as I often would make sounds and cause stories with whatever playthings I was playing with( I had an incredible imagination back then, and still do thankfully ). Nonetheless, this particular occasion was different. She heard me carrying on one side of what sounded to her like a full conversation. As moms often do, she went down the hall to the doorway of my bedroom and asked me who I was talking to. And sitting on the flooring, I told her, terribly nonchalantly that I was just talking to, “the lady at the end of my bed”.

She toy it cool, and didn’t outwardly demo any sort of apparent fear or apprehension about what I said, but later told me that since she was home alone with two small children at the time, she was a bit freaked out. She asked the normal questions about this “lady”; was she young or old-time? Was she nice or spooky? Etc. And I, without slipping a lick, told her that she was nice and was an older lady apparently, who was simply inquiring about my playthings, and what I was doing. I didn’t seem scared, and behaved as though this was no big deal. I said here today that around this time, I did have an imaginary friend, whom I announced “Harry”. But let me be clear; this was not Harry, and I never had more than one imaginary friend, that I can assure you.

She and I have discussed this event exclusively a couple of periods in its first year since. And I never granted it much of a second thought. That is until my grandmother — my mom’s mom — somehow managed to bring up a similar, but separate occurrence later on. She would come visit from Pennsylvania,( Pittsburgh solely ), for months at a time, mainly to help my mommy with my sister and I while she and my papa toiled during the week. My grandma was a highly no-nonsense, but funny and affable age-old Polish lady. She wouldn’t take any guff, but was extremely loving and doted on us kids. When we picked her up from the civilize depot one time when I was in junior high, we somehow got on the subject of specters and mysterious presences, when she then said something of the implications of; “…then there was that time when I questioned who you were talking to alone in your chamber, and you said that you were just talking to the lady at the end of the bed.” She had about the same reaction as my mommy according to her, and left it at that.

If those two discussed about it together, I never heard of it at least until that day in the car with my grandmother; but apparently they did compare notes when my grandmother mentioned the happen to my mummy. That period in the car though, I went shiverings. I had just been ever heard this story from my mother, and for all I knew before that, it had just been a dream or an instance I had managed to forget the bulk of. But the more I thought about it, the more I be pointed out that particular epoch, that chamber — and having the potential benefits of a photographic memory, I can almost see this lady in my psyches seeing. She’s older, silver mane, and had a gentle demeanor overall. That’s about it as far as my cache of her goes.

I’ve never forgotten this story. I’m 33 now, and from time to time my mommy and I talk about it. Who this woman could’ve been. What she might’ve been touring me for, and what was it about her that kept me from being afraid like a lot of 5 year-olds would be. Mom seems to think that she was some sort of guardian angel, or something like that. I’m persuasion she was a ghost, a flavor — or whatever you wish to call them — that was just there to watch over me or was curious about this weird kid with a rich ingenuity. Who genuinely knows? But I never sacrificed it much stock until it was corroborated to some degree. I still “ve been thinking about” that female, and wonder what it was all about.” JP

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