Lisby
Paranormal Novice
I'd written this up for something else awhile back:
This is an unexplained event that happened to me in Scotland in 1989, and possibly to a British Army officer sometime between 1938 and 1945.
I was staying at a B&B in Inverness, a city in the Scottish Highlands. The house was incredibly lovely--filled with Glasgow-style turn-of-the-century furniture and fittings. It spoke of the years before World War I when art and utility were combined in new and sensual ways. It did not speak at all of the sparse, hard years of World War II.
In my room, my bed sat to the left of the doorway, facing a fire with a Glasgow-style beaten-copper surround. One night, I was lying there, looking at the beautiful fireplace. Although it was about 10 pm, there was still light in the room, as it was early summer and the days are long in the north. I had just begun to drift a little when suddenly I saw a man in a military uniform sitting at a desk. Curiously, he and his desk were partially occupying the same space that I was. At about the moment that I realized my toes were poking through this man's desk blotter and he was writing on my calves, the door opened and a woman in a maid's uniform entered carrying a tea tray. The man at the desk looked up at her, and in doing so, seemed to see me, too. As the maid set the tea tray down in front of him, he looked at me in shocked surprise. Then everything faded and I fell into a normal sleep.
The next morning in one of those mind-bending synchronicities, I was sat in the B&B's dining room eating breakfast. Other guests were talking to the owner about the history of the house. She told them that during WW II the house was used as billet for army officers.
That's the end of the nicely written part, and really, that's all there is to it, but I've always wondered if I didn't experience some sort of time slip...
This is an unexplained event that happened to me in Scotland in 1989, and possibly to a British Army officer sometime between 1938 and 1945.
I was staying at a B&B in Inverness, a city in the Scottish Highlands. The house was incredibly lovely--filled with Glasgow-style turn-of-the-century furniture and fittings. It spoke of the years before World War I when art and utility were combined in new and sensual ways. It did not speak at all of the sparse, hard years of World War II.
In my room, my bed sat to the left of the doorway, facing a fire with a Glasgow-style beaten-copper surround. One night, I was lying there, looking at the beautiful fireplace. Although it was about 10 pm, there was still light in the room, as it was early summer and the days are long in the north. I had just begun to drift a little when suddenly I saw a man in a military uniform sitting at a desk. Curiously, he and his desk were partially occupying the same space that I was. At about the moment that I realized my toes were poking through this man's desk blotter and he was writing on my calves, the door opened and a woman in a maid's uniform entered carrying a tea tray. The man at the desk looked up at her, and in doing so, seemed to see me, too. As the maid set the tea tray down in front of him, he looked at me in shocked surprise. Then everything faded and I fell into a normal sleep.
The next morning in one of those mind-bending synchronicities, I was sat in the B&B's dining room eating breakfast. Other guests were talking to the owner about the history of the house. She told them that during WW II the house was used as billet for army officers.
That's the end of the nicely written part, and really, that's all there is to it, but I've always wondered if I didn't experience some sort of time slip...
