...And Here's Julie

Wednesday, February 27th, 2008.

It was near 5:30 am when I heard the sound of a distant phone ringing like the old rotary telephones. I remembered answering the phone. The voice was distant and unfamiliar. Only three words were spoken in a woman's voice. The words; however, were forgotten the second I opened my eyes and realized I had been dreaming. I was certain the message had been English as I laid in the darkness wondering what she had said. A gentle waft of Loves Baby Soft drifted past my nose. The scent lingered, allowing me to recall receiving a gift from my Grandma Stewart when I was a young girl in my early teens. She was always giving us Avon perfumes for Christmas. It was my favourite scent. I used the entire bottle in no time and haven't seen it since.

My attention returned to the very present with a faint tap at the staircase door. At that time we had moved our bed up to the attic and relocated the girls to the second floor. I laid quiet listening with my heart in my throat. I could hear soft footsteps first on the pine plank flooring and then on the cardboard I'd left on the floor in front of the hall door.

Moving our furniture upstairs had not gone well. We had to remove the door frame and cut out part of the wall. We managed to get the door and its frame back in place by late evening, but still needed to fix above the door.

My thoughts were interrupted by more shuffling footsteps. I rationalized, it could be Ian up making his way to the bathroom.

There was another faint tap at the door.

If it were my son, Ian, up wandering around there would be considerably more noise. His feet had grown to size eleven over the last year and there was no way he could be that dainty on his way to the washroom in the wee hours of the morning.

My thoughts were interrupted with the sound of crinkling plastic. I had left a plastic bag tucked under the antique parlour chair that sat to the right of the door. I realized then that what I hadn't heard was the sound of Ian's door opening. Surely I would have heard it. Ian preferred his door closed. It creaked in protest every time it was opened. With the girls away and Alex a heavy sleeper, the only person it could be was Ian.

There was another single tap on the attic door.

It doesn't sound like Ian I thought to myself. Was it Mary? My Grandmother, maybe? Then I thought, no, I won't risk it and give you permission to come through the door. I remembered another instance when a visitor came to my room uninvited. Someone in a dream announced …and here's Julie and at that instant, I woke to the sound of a woman's raspy breathing as she stood over me. Every hair on my body popped out painfully with goosebumps. I felt I would surely be bald if the raspy-voiced woman stood there much longer. My good friend Eileen had once told me that I should pray for white light to surround and protect me and to protect the house. I listened to the low choking rasp in my right ear while the woman leaned over me. With my eyes squeezed tight shut I remained perfectly still, as though rigour mortis had set in. Finally, the walls of my mind flooded with intense white light and Julie; with all of her sounds and chilled atmosphere, vanished.

Another faint tap at the door brought my thoughts back to the present situation. I laid still waiting for something more to happen. Minutes passed and then there was nothing. The feeling of someone standing watch at the attic door was gone. There was an odd feeling of emptiness. The digital clock glowed a brilliant 5:58. From somewhere in the tearoom I heard the scraping sound of a wooden chair being shifted and then there was silence. Was it Mary? I couldn't say for sure but she was at least polite, unlike the last visitor. Sometimes I wish I wasn't so afraid. It would be really interesting to meet someone from the spirit world as my girlfriend Eileen calls it.