'I'm not dead!'
Dead teen schoolgirl stalks me since 2010. I grew older, but she remains 19.
This realistic novel is a dramatisation of actuality. It was not easy to create a narrative based on other-worldly interaction and events, for which there are no scientific nor credible literary sources.
The novel is dramatised, semi-autobiographical and is based on my own subjective and empirical experience with a deceased girl's soul, who began to communicate with me since 2010.
I changed her real name and street address, and called her Paula Pasquillie.
The setting remains the same, largely in Mitchells Plain, where gangster violence -- as in all the other townships on the Cape Flats, Cape Town, South Africa -- rule with murder and total mayhem and violence.
More people die violently here than in any war zone.
Paula is in love, and her passion is transferred with her after death.
I have attempted to present Paula's interaction in the novel, as a ghost, as realistic as possible. Paula is the main character, who like a living person, also has the same emotions, aspirations and expectations.
The reader can sympathetically identify with Paula since all of us travel the same road towards death some time or another.
I painted a picture of life after death through Paula. I cannot see or hear ghosts, but I swear on my soul, the particular deceased person made contact with me.
Normally, I'm not second-sighted and I'm not a ghost medium.
This was thus the reason I wrote the novel over a period of two months.
It was a story I had to tell.
Something happened with me when the deceased's soul made contact with me. I now know with certainty the soul can never die.
. That night, while I was asleep, a woman shouted my name over and over, until I would awake. It was no one visible.
I awoke. The strange butterfly was part of the dream. I had dreamt I was with my sister, and upon coming home, seeing the huge strange butterfly, hovering above me, and following me into the apartment.
The entire conversation with my sister didn't exist at all. I had dreamt everything.
I got out of bed and poured strong coffee in a white mug, with the words written on it, in red: “Love your neighbour.”
As I drifted into sleep again, I heard the familiar voice saying aloud, my name over and over again.
I jumped up, saying equally aloud. “What in heaven is this!?”
The following evening, the woman's screaming voice awoke me once again. But, while I was half-awake, it appeared real.
I was repeatedly awoken by the same voice, practically awaking me each evening, screaming my name in my sleep. Each time when I awoke and looked around in my room, it would be no one.
I had always lived alone.
I wasn't afraid or petrified. The voice wasn't scary. It sounded very human.
On one occasion, I drifted between awake and asleep. It was what they refer to as the twilight zone. I was aware I was between the earth and the astral world, between my physical body and my ethereal self.
Everything around me became blurred. My room did not look the same any longer. It appeared out of shape, but not chaotic. It was an ordered incongruousness. I looked at the narrow long, vertical widow high up on the wall opposite me. It did not appear flat, but appeared four-dimensional. I looked at the roof, it was eight-dimensional. I could see right through the roof into the night sky and the starry heavens.
The night sky appeared quite different. It appeared as if I was inside an elongated-shape ball with the stars, galaxies and the entire universe around it. Or, I, within it. I enveloped a feeling of belonging, that everything was somehow together and somewhat connected, that nothing was on its own, that there was a sense of oneness with everything, and everything at one with itself. It was as if there was a strange quantum law taking effect on all existence, on life and of all beings, plant, insect, stone, sand pebble, a fish, a star fish, a mountain, a rain drop, a giraffe, a horse, a lion, a cat, a boy, a girl, on people, cosmic beings. My mind flashed images beyond recall.
The universe didn't function on religious rituals, but built on spiritual set laws.
I saw beyond the veil of life, within a split second, or less.
It was an uncanny feeling, you could converse with the universe from your bed. I remembered thinking, never mind the post-modern development of global network, the Internet's world wide web, the cellphone, the TV, satellite, the Concorde jet....
It was nothing in comparison with the higher worlds. it appeared a holographic reality, as if we and all life could just be an emanation of someone' s or something's mind.
I was at the mercy of this mighty being.
I heard the screaming again, and looked around in the astral surrounding, but it was no one. “Where did this voice appear from?” I remembered thinking.
The years progressed, and the shouting of my first name in my sleep, kept recurring. I once fell off my bed upon hearing the shouting in my sleep. Most times I wasn't dreaming at all. I was just rudely awakened by the screaming.
I would hear my name being shouted, while I surfaced in my sleep. It was like someone shouting at you in your sleep to wake you up.
The voice was very real, and I was convinced it was a real person.
On one occasion, a woman's voice rang out in my sleep which caused me to fall off the bed.
On several other occasions, I would answer the voice, saying, “Yes?” Or, “I'm getting up.”
It was always the same woman's voice in my room. the entity' s voice was eerie and ended in a high pitch notation, as if asking a question. But she didn't ask questions. It was her mannerism of speech.
The invisible voice started yelling my name since late 2010. It was eight years later, when one early morning, I heard this voice again.
This time I experienced a form of lucidness. The woman had appeared inside my dream. I was repeatedly awoken by the shouting of the same woman in my sleep. It was always just a few minutes before dawn.
The woman would shout my name repeatedly as if to attract my attention, as if to awaken me.
I had no rational explanation for this. Each time, I thought there was a woman in my room. But my door was always securely locked, with no excess to anyone.
There was absolutely no excess to anyone into my room from outside. The separate entrance was hidden behind the two-storey dwelling. There was an empty garage next to the house. I was at the back. I always kept the garage door securely locked as well.
I began to realise it was a ghost shouting my name at nights. I thought it was my deceased mother coming to visit me at first.
My mind was somewhat perplexed. “I can't see or hear the woman.
“There were people who were born second-sighted and who could communicate with ghosts. I didn't have second-sight ability."
CONTINUE WITH THE NOVEL