This is the first time I've told my story. I honestly don't know if any one on this side can help us make sense of my son's unusual abilities. I am shaking as I type this - just remembering some of the incidences we have been through with my son. So indisputably genuine, extensive, and yet bizarre are his abilities and the occurrences that seem to follow him, that I've been completely at a loss of who to call for an explanation.
I refuse to take him to seek professional help because as a young toddler he proved without a doubt that what he was seeing was legitimate.
James was born in 1992 and was in every way a normal little boy with one exception - he hated sleeping and being alone. Some may say that sounds pretty normal and I guess he fitted in the difficult baby category, but I couldn't be too hard on him for an unusual reason. He was terrified. In his cot he would scream. We would bring him in with us and he would look around the room with his eyes wide looking at the walls and the roof and hesitantly settling down under my chin face in and sleep for the rest of the night.
At 18 months we bought him a bed. Things got weird. He would wake screaming but wouldn't get out and come to us. Instead we would find him standing on his bed in the corner pointing across the room in the dark distressed and angry. We initially put it down to nightmares until he tried to explain it to us. "A head - A head" he would say then point his finger at one side of the room and trail it across the roof to the other side, then "gone oh! A head! Gone! In the wall!".
So clear and convinced was he about what he had seen we felt rather uneasy; and although common sense told us he was remembering a nightmare, something was off.
Two months later 'I' began to see something and I was not the sort of person to allow myself to believe in such nonsense either. But the cold hard facts were floating directly above my face in the form of a soft misty orb in the pitch black night. I would move, and it stayed right where it was. Not on the roof but floating in the middle of the room. I would half sit up to make sure I was fully awake. I was. I wanted to say I couldn't believe it. But it was without a doubt - there. And a certain little someone woke up one night when I saw it and said "there! You see? You see?" and it would disappear and he would say "oh! Gone!". I felt every inch of my body inside and out CRAWL. This went on for years, and I still have encounters of the crawly kind 17 years on.
The next incident made my father's hair curl. We were visiting Mum and Dad. James was about two. Dad called me into the loungeroom where he was sitting and said "get a look at this" and nudged his head in the direction of the foyer. There's James standing all by himself looking up at - no one - having a full conversation with - no one. He was smiling up at no one and went quiet for a few seconds and answered questions by - no one - intermittently. A very convincing performance actually. Dad said to him "hey James! Who you talking to buddy?" and the answer was "Da man" with a look of dah! On his little face. "What man?". James turned around to point up at 'de man' and said "Oh gone!" His expression was now more of confusion. Then a light glimmered in his eye and he said "Come! I show you!" He took my dad by the hand and dragged him into his bedroom to his side table where a picture of my late grandfather sat and said "That man!" with a smile a mile wide! My father bit back tears.
So that was the beginning. One night when he was about 3, we tucked him in bed and left the back room light on for him and settled down to watch some tele for the evening. We checked a few minutes later and he was out to it. A few minutes later we see James walking past the loungeroom door down the hallway. "That little beggers out of bed" his father said and jumped straight up and chased him down the hall to find - NOTHING. We both saw him pass the doorway, and yet there he was in his bed sound asleep. Hadn't moved. Although we couldn't explain how, it did explain how he knew things in the mornings about the night before even though he was asleep. Things like visitors dropping in or a massive spider on the wall.
It was also at three that 'the most terrifying event' in all his years took place and I can find nothing to even give meaning to it. So if you know something about what you are about to read that can give the slightest bit of symbolism - PLEASE LET ME KNOW! To this day I am scared that there is something more sinister on James plain of communication. He was in the bath playing and singing one night. I ducked around the corner not eight feet from him to stir a pot on the stove. The singing and noise abruptly stopped followed five seconds later by a shrill scream. I almost wore the boiling water in my haste to get to him. When I did he was standing in the bath trying to get out in a frenzy. I grabbed him up and as I asked him what on earth happened - his hair was still dry which discounted slipping under - I noticed five large and long sprawled claw marks - thumb and fingers - etched across his belly much wider than his own hand could spread. They were raised and red and he explained that a white horse with a carriage and a lady with a black cloak came down through the window and the horse reared up and "went cshhhh cssshhhhhh cssshhhhh" and hurt his tummy. The only things within range of the bath were a fabric ball, a rubber duck family, a couple of bath puppet mitts and a cake of soap.
Since then its been mental telepathy, talking to relatives who have passed, passing on messages that have been received with utter disbelief but relief, hearing voices - many, many all at once and often. He sees a black cat disappearing around a corner a lot lately and unsuccessfully tries to drown out the voices with his earphones. He can't sleep because they won't leave him alone. He hates mirrors because he 'knows' he sees things as he turns around and there not there when he looks again. He feels a dark presence; he feels like something bad is happening or going to. He watches himself sleep! - in this state he is across the room from his sleeping self, has no physical feelings or weight, no thoughts no senses, no breath - he's just - there.
We both have a strong telepathic bond with each other. And up until recently he refused to talk about any of it for years for fear of being thought of as a freak or different or just trying to get attention. Now he's begging me to help him find out why and how to make it stop.
He remembers all the heads in the wall incidents and most profoundly the bath incident. From when he was little. He said they were as real as me standing here. He's seen massive fireballs converging just above tree tops at the end of our street from his bedroom window, and God knows what else he won't tell me. It brakes my heart when he asks me "Mum? Do you think I'm crazy?" I always tell him "Absolutely no way do I believe that honey. But I do think the rest of the world is".