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BY JENNIFER SILVERMAN
You may think I'm totally bonkers, but I confess that I'm a paranormal junkie who wholeheartedly believes in spirits, ghosts, and the afterlife.
Trust me, you'd be a believer too if you experienced the many spiritual, otherworldly encounters I have since I was a wee one. (Just ask my parents.)
It's totally cool if you don't share my sentiments, but maybe my real-life, friendly ghost story - witnessed by many, will open your mind to the possibility that peaceful, protective spirits are watching over us.
Karen was the second-generation caretaker of a historic building in Kentucky where my mother worked. Karen and I were buddies since I was a preschooler, and our special friendship lasted until her very premature death when I was in high school.
After Karen’s passing, employees in the building still sensed her presence. Many believed she continued to look after a place she had loved and cared for.
Several months later, the building was the victim of an attempted arson attack.
Milkcrates full of newspapers were set on fire next to some old wooden entrance doors. Although the doors were charred, arson investigators could uncover no logical explanation as to why flames had not consumed the doors, nor why exposed carpet had not immediately ignited and destroyed the building.
The night after the fire, I had a dream about Karen.
In my dream, which I regard as a visit from Karen, she explained that she prevented the fire from spreading - once again protecting the building, just as she had done in life.
The last tidbit I remember from my dreamy convo was Karen describing a purple flower. (Purple happened to be her favorite hue.) She promised to leave it as a sign of her presence, affirming that she had indeed visited the building from The Other Side.
I relayed the dream to my mother, a staunch dream enthusiast.
The next morning, hoping to find a purple flower, my mother surveyed the building exterior with a reluctant security guard who asserted that the whole pursuit was beyond whacky.
Disappointed when there was no purple flower to be found outside, my mother shared my dream with her coworker, Angie, who had also been a dear friend of Karen’s.
When my mother recounted the purple flower prediction, Angie looked as though she had seen a ghost.
As it happened, the building had hosted an event the previous evening, requiring Angie to access a small room where trash bins were stored. Before Angie left for the evening, she cleaned the floors, returned the bins to the room, and locked the doors.
The following morning, Angie unlocked the doors to the small room and noticed a large artificial purple flower on the floor in the center of the room.
Although Angie was perplexed by the odd discovery in a locked room, she picked up the flower, placed it in a trash bin, and went about her tasks.
Excited by this new information, the trio returned to the small room and retrieved the purple flower from the top of a trash bin.
As they all admired the flower, even the dubious security guard got goosebumps.
Nineteen years later, the thought of Karen’s purple flower still makes me smile. It's a touching reminder that my beloved friend is still around me, somewhere not so very far, smiling back at me.
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