Of Some First-Hand and Of Some Second-Hand Experiences, Part 2

It is not any less unfortunate that I do not remember what (may not have been a who) took me off the bed and tenderly laid me down smack middle of the floor (of a large bedroom). Naturally, that gesture, whether by some unknown force or not, didn’t really impress me much, I suppose. But I did let the world now I was quite displeased about helpless lying on the floor business. Hearing my sudden loud scream, the whole family stampeded over one another as to reach the bedroom in the shortest time possible assuming something must have happened to me. They stood puzzled at the site of me lying on the spot that I simply could not have reached on my own. Yet they knew none of them placed me there.

The whole event took seconds tops. In the interest of being better understood, let me explain it a bit better.

That day, my whole family was visiting my maternal grandparents in another town. I was the first grandchild and as such enjoyed quite a privileged status. It goes without saying, I was showered with attention, proudly shown off to folks, etc. Doubtless, the whole thing brought great joy to all parties included. Soon after we arrived, I was lulled to sleep and laid on the bed in my grandparents’ room. Their bed reached high off the ground leaving no room for thought if a fall from it would have been very harmful, possibly even fatal to me. The bed was also rather large and over it hung a huge religious painting. This painting would delight me throughout my whole childhood as I really enjoyed the site of its central figure (Virgin Mary with baby Jesus in her arms, I think) surrounded by beautiful praying angels.

It might be worth noting that my grandparents’ house always had an air of strangeness about it, possibly due to some genious’s idea to raise it on the hollow ground. The house was literally built on the land that was once a cemetery. That cemetery was, of course, moved, but more about that later as we should get back to the events of the day…

So, while my tiny self was peacefully sleeping on the huge grandma’s bed under my mother’s watchful eye, the rest of the family was either preparing lunch in the kitchen or mingling in the dining room. Some others were on the terrace. Then, someone had called my mother to come help (with something). No one I spoke with can recall what exactly she had to assist with nor does that really bear any importance here, but - importantly - they do recall that it was something (probably something trivial which because of its triviality fails to be recalled), and that she did leave the bedroom for a few seconds.

Only moments later my scream was heard and an unbridled influx of souls from all meridians of the house ensued. To my mother’s surprise (and, soon after they learned the details of the event, everybody else’s), they saw me lying on the floor, still wrapped in my blanket but far off the spot where my mother had left me. Other than a bit agitated, I was in my normal baby-state.

This story may not seem like much at first. However, my whole family - even today - is convinced that ‘something’ impossible had occurred. Occasionally we’d touched on this event, but without exception failed to find a satisfactory explanation. Its rung of weirdness never really got lost on me and I could now easily bring forth quite a few ideas as to the nature of the event … Those would all, of course, be purely speculative, so I’ll skip them. All in all, it seems the event that took place on that beautiful day during Anno Domini 1972 will remain beyond our understanding.