Sitting in the driver's seat of my Jetta, and fumbling for my car keys amongst the disarray of my purse, I had a feeling of doom. As I started my car and pulled out of the garage, I watched as the early morning joggers passed me by on the sidewalk. I had a feeling that whatever I was going to learn today would change my life forever, and I knew in my heart that nothing in my life was going to be the same again. I slowly pulled into the parking lot of the Madame Mary's shop. I got out, tossed my purse over my shoulder, and walked slowly to the front door. I opened the door, I sat down in the waiting room, and waited for Madame Mary to finish her session with a young gentleman who's sobbing I could hear through the wall. "Super!" I mumbled under my breath. If this man's tears was a sign of things to come, then good fortune was not on my side. The door to Madame Mary's back room opened, and out walked the puffy eyed gentleman. She escorted him out, all the while telling him everything was going to be okay. As he left her shop, she locked the door behind him, turned the open sign in the window over to closed, dimmed the lights in the front waiting room, and gestured for me to follow her into her private room. Knees shaking, I stood up and followed her.
In her private room, there was a table with a single red lamp. On one side sat Madame Mary, and I on the other. Madame Mary's chubby, olive colored arms folded over each other on the top of the table. Her fingers interlaced between each other, and her wildly curly, dark brown hair was restrained by a single pink hair clasp. Her deep brown eyes pierced through mine as she stared at me intently. The screaming silence between the two of us ended when Madame Mary utter the first four words that would define the rest of my life. "You are a medium," she said in dry, monotone voice.
"Do what?" I could feel the color run from cheeks. The room began to spin, and for a second, the world it's self seemed to stop. A medium... like her? This had to be a joke. Did this mean I was going to have to have my own crystal ball and start referring to myself as "Madame Brice?" Really? She had to be kidding!
"You have spirits that attach themselves to you. They communicate with you, and most of the tragedy that you've experienced in your life is due to your own fear and denial of what you've always know about yourself. Well, they're not going to go away. The more you ignore them, the more they will act up to get your attention. They almost killed you when you were 15. Do you remember the scratches they left on you? Do you remember feeling the weight on your body as they held you down?" I felt like I was going to vomit. How did she know that? A smirk went across her face as she saw my reaction as the reality of what she was saying registered with me. "The doctor's never found what was wrong with you, and you of all people know that science doesn't explain everything."
Madame Mary proceeded to tell me about my mother's family history in low country. Once again, I had not told this woman that I was from the South, nor had I told her my mother's family was from the banks of the Low Country. In the Low Country, Voodoo and Hoodoo are common practice, and it seems that a woman by the name of Donna used this form of black magic to "curse" my grandparents for my grandfather's rejection of her love for the love of my grandmother. Unknown to this lady, my grandmother's family was no stranger to the practice of Hoodoo (as I would learn more about in another meeting with Madame Mary). With the combination of black root work being used against my family, and the own workings of root work and spiritual experimenting within my family, a can of worms had been open with me paying the price for the past.
The only person in my family that seemed to be aware of this "dark presence" was my grandmother Maxine because, I was told, that she, herself, had paranormal abilities. Due to severe intensity of the "Christian" influence that blankets the grounds of the South, my grandmother was never able to talk to anyone about her own gifts. My grandmother died when I was nine of breast cancer, so therefore, I never had a chance to learn anything from her in her living life, but had seen her around me many times before in her death, a fact I have never shared with anyone. Madame Mary told me that I not only carried the weight of the curse, but I inherited my own personal abilities from my grandmother. She then went on to explain that my grandmother, in her death, was my spirit guide. Every time I have an experience I see my grandmother or feel her touching me. In such an isolated world with such horrifying experiences I had learned to ignore, my grandmother had been there so I would not feel alone or afraid.
As if being hit by massive ball of energy, I felt my body release years of tension and anxiety. I wasn't crazy. The fears of being alone when I was a child were justified. All the imaginary friends and disembodied spirits I had seen were not my imagination but a reality. A part of my brain was open and engaged in a way that other's people minds weren't. Sweet relief was upon me, but sweet relief would not last for long. Accepting this about myself was only the first step in a long journey. While trying to live my own life, I also have a debt to pay to society. I see what I see for a reason. I was created as a medium as part of my life journey, and the journey and aid of others, dead or alive. I have spent my life seeing demons too. I am very familiar with the growls of the fallen angles, and have felt the presence of my grandmother with me through it all.
I ended my session with Madame Mary, promising to come back in couple of days to learn more about myself and the life task I had ahead of me. The news she had provided me with was drastic, and something that I needed to know. She did not charge me for her services, and I would go back to her with the idea that knowledge is power. She would go on to teach me about my family history, and about a certain ring I've inherited. A certain ring I will write about in another blog.
All in all, seeing "ghost" doesn't mean that I'm not afraid. It doesn't mean that there are days I where all I want to do is give this gift back, and say "thanks, but no thanks." But I am learning to control it, and everyday I meet people like me, allowing me to build a nice support system. Soon, I hope to be holding my own investigations so I can help spirits in need to pass on... investigations I will blog about. No, I don't have a crystal ball, and no I will never go by "Madame Brice." Through it all, I'm still just a normal 26 year old girl. I love clothes, I love the theatre, I love music, I love to read, and I love to write. I just have this one "little" not so normal ability on top of everything. So from here on out, when I write about the paranormal, I ask you to read with an open heart and an open mind.
Oh- and if you think this weird... don't worry... I think it's totally weird too.
I know that was hard to share, Brice! I'm proud of you. . . it is very well written, and of course, fascinating. I can't wait to see what you choose to do with your gifts (of which I know this is just one of many).
ReplyDeleteBrice! You did a great job of drawing me into your life...I want to hear more about the family curse and history sometime! We've always had that in common and that part of the Low Country culture is fascinating.
ReplyDeleteSo, did you ever figure out what the "floating face" meant?? (You mentioned it in FB one night...)
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