The Visitor

The Ceiling Lamp

“It’s like that. Once the first thing happens, the family is acutely aware that something or someone is in the house with us.”

To be perfectly honest. When this type of thing happens in my family, there’s a palpable shift in the air. Everyone feels it. At least, everyone in the house, family, feels it. It’s like when someone hears, “Hey, that show is on channel six right now.” And everyone can’t help but tune in to the same wavelength. It’s like that. Once the first thing happens, the family is acutely aware that something or someone is in the house with us. 

Last night just straight-up sucked. Last night I was in the living room at about 1:00. I was tucked in trying to stay warm, and looking up at my phone. The lights were off. After a while, I put my phone down and closed my eyes, and then I heard the distinct click of the light’s dimmer switch and the lights came on. I thought someone had woken up, seen me on my phone, and wanted to get my attention without startling me too much.

Nobody else was in the room.  It took me a moment to register. I didn’t get any particular impression of who it might be. But as the situation sank in. It wasn’t friendly. I got up, crossed the room, and shut the light off. The dimmer wasn’t just barely on. It had been turned a three-quarter turn so the lights were full-on bright.

I didn’t say anything to whomever/whatever it was. I played it off like nothing weird was going on. I committed to burning sage and cleaning the house the next day. When I woke up, I told my family what had happened. Heads nodded and eyes shifted away from me as if to say, “Shit, not again. Srsly?” Yea, again, seriously. 

I dusted the house, picked up every errant thing, and put it in its place. I ran a couple of errands and made a great soup at lunchtime. Then I sent my family out to do their own thing. I wanted to make sure the smoke didn’t get to their lungs. All three of us have asthma, but mine is the least severe. My youngest daughter went to visit a friend at the park and my wife went for a walk in the canyon with one of her friends.

I pulled out the cast iron kettle and filled the bottom with some sand. I wasn’t sure how. But I wanted to make certain that whatever it was knew I meant business. I grabbed both large flight feathers, the crow, and the great horned owl from my medicine bag. It’s more of a case. Since my bag was stolen a couple of months ago. Regardless. I pulled out the bundle of smudgery:  mountain sage, sweetgrass, and Cedar, and lit the top of it on fire. 

I began in our bedroom, the far corner. I spread the smoke with the two large feathers in one hand and the burning leaves sat upright in the iron kettle. I called out and told the spirits it was time for them to go, time to leave and not come back. I began with a meek demeanor because come on, how many times do you really do this kind of thing? 

I cleared the bedroom and closed the door behind me. Curiously enough, when I reached for the door handle and pushed smoke through the doorway, I saw a shadow move out from the room and into the hallway. Just my mind playing tricks on me, right? I then cleared the hallway restroom, closing the bedroom door behind me. 

I moved into the kitchen, cleared my throat, and lit the bundle again since it threatened to go out. I spoke more forcefully and told the spirits in the house to get the fuck out. Leave my house and don’t ever come back. Then I moved into my daughter’s room. I started in her bathroom and felt especially protective of her when I ordered the spirit to get out of my house. I closed the door behind me and cleared her room from the furthest corner and out into the living room. Again I could have sworn something passed by me as I closed the door. It was like chasing a child. I got angry and said, Get out of my house, get out of my house now!”

I cleared the living room with smoke and opened the front door, “Get out of my house.” I pushed smoke through the doorway with the feathers and could feel the thing staring back at me. I chased it out and shut the door.  I didn’t feel like much had changed, but I waited. Time would tell. 

After a while. I reopened the doors and windows to clear some of that smoke. In the meantime, I ran an errand. When I got back, the house was quiet. So I started cooking dinner. The family came back and settled in. Our home had a burnt Sage aroma to it, which I enjoy. But, by the time evening rolled around, the doors and windows had run their course. I closed everything up for the night. The family split up, each to their own device. My daughter watched a movie in her room while I took a shower. My wife sat in the living room and read. 

~

I felt good about smudging the house… until I didn’t. 

When I emerged from my shower, the same day as the cleansing of the house, my wife nearly stammered, “I don’t know if I should say something now, or wait until later.” 

She didn’t wait. She said that while she was reading alone in the living room, a scratching noise came from the front door, just across the room from her. It sounded like someone was trying to get into the house with a key, but had difficulty. When she looked up, the sound stopped. Shrugging it off as possibly being one of our neighbors in the condo next door. She went back to her reading. But it happened again. Again she looked up. Again the sound quieted. This time it made her wonder. But she continued reading. Finally, the sound came a third time, so she got up and went to the door. It fell silent. She peered out the peephole and saw nothing but our empty boring stairwell. 

By now, she had been unnerved. So she decided to get ready for bed. First, she went to the bathroom to remove her contact lenses. She opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed her things, and closed the mirror. Not two seconds later, the mirror door popped open. She shut it, and as soon as she looked at the other mirror to remove her contact, the door popped open again. She decided something must be pushing it out, like a bottle or something. So she checked to see what it could be but found nothing was in the way. She closed it. Waited. It stayed shut. 

Then, she stared at the mirror, finally reaching to her eye to get her contact. The mirror door popped open again. She yelled at it, “stop it!” and she closed the door. This time it stayed shut. 

Here we are, weeks later. True to form, things like this seldom just stop. We always have to do more, focus more, and speak out more.  Last night, my wife and I met up in our bedroom, ready to watch some tv and wind down.  She had a blank look on her face and contrary to her typical, I’m-on-my-phone-now stance, she looked past me, through me at the closet.  I set to turn on the iMac and logged onto Hulu when she said, “It’s happened again.” 

My heart fell. I knew what she was talking about. I mean, how could I not? She isn’t one to mince words. She explained that while she was sitting there on the bed, reading a story on her phone, she felt like someone had come in. Just as she registered that nobody was in the room with her, she looked up, only to get a face full of alcohol breath, like someone who’d been drinking for the last hour had breathed that rancid drunken breath into her face.  She wrinkled her nose in protest and as soon as she reacted to it, it came again, a long exhale of foul liquor breath. Whatever, whoever it was seemed to be enjoying her torture.  

We talked about what it could be. Was it some sewage gas backup from the drain in the bathroom?  Could it have come in through the window? 

“No, this was deliberate.” She said she felt like she was being harassed at a frat party.  “It was right in my face. I could feel the breath on my face. Something is very wrong. “ 

And then we watched some tv and forgot all about it for now. What could we do? It happens, but then it always stops for a while. I think we’re getting way too used to it.  But we will need to smudge the house again. Crossing my fingers. This is what our life is like. It’s always been this way. How about you? Did you see something? Send us your story and we just may post it here for you to share. I can keep your name out of it, if you’d feel better about it. You aren’t alone.