The Ride Home
Much of what I write is fiction. Many of my stories involve the supernatural. There is a reason I am drawn to this genre, and that reason is because not all that is deemed impossible is imaginary.
I used to live in upstate New York near Albany. It was a most beautiful, warm, September day in 1989. I was heading home from work. As I drove I could see the road in front of me. I could see the cars on the road, and in those cars, other drivers. People walked along the sidewalk.
But then something happened. An image appeared, superimposing itself upon what I just described. I was still able to see my normal surroundings, and… something else. I envisioned myself at home. I was walking across the yard from my mom’s house to the cottage where I lived with my family. The cottage did not have running water. Because of this we used the bathroom at the main house and did our dishes in the sink. In this image I was holding two plastic buckets, one in each hand, with freshly washed dishes. As I looked at the cottage I saw smoke and flame. The chimney leading from the wood stove was on fire.
The image faded and I was once again among cars, people, and trees. Nothing like this ever happened to me before. Oh I’ve had many unusual circumstances of which I’ll write about another time, but never anything like this where two realities showed themselves to me the way that you would see two different movies simultaneously projected on the same screen.
Later that evening I very reluctantly shared my experience with my mom. I was expecting her to tell me it was silly. Instead, she said “Your grandmother used to have visions. It runs in the family. I’m buying a fire extinguisher”. I was really surprised by this. And I have to admit I felt a lot better knowing that what happened to me has also happened to other members of my family. So even though I knew I wasn’t crazy, this was confirmation I need to prove that I was indeed not crazy. I never mentioned the vision to anyone else. Not to my now ex, or to my children.
Over the next few months the superimposed image of me crossing the yard with freshly washed dishes and seeing the wall of my cottage near the chimney on fire, appeared. Each time the image was a little less intense. A little more transparent. I never did see more detail or less detail, just less intense.
New Year’s Eve of 1989 arrived. It was now around three months since that image appeared to me, and more than a month had passed since the most recent. I had completely forgotten about it. I passed it off as one of those odd experiences that I imagine we all have, but amount to nothing.
I just finished washing the dishes. I placed them in a pair of plastic buckets and exited my mom’s house, heading toward the cottage as I had done each day for as long as I lived there. I suddenly stopped in my tracks. There was smoke and flame billowing from the wall of the cottage immediately next to the chimney. I dropped the buckets and raced to the cottage. I gathered my children and took them outside to safety. I then ran to my mom’s home, and grabbed the fire extinguisher she had just recently purchased. I returned to the cottage, placed the nozzle of the fire extinguisher into the hole where there was smoke and flame, and released its contents.
The cottage had damage, but it was repairable. If I didn’t have the premonition in the form of a superimposed vision, and shared it with my mom, I would have lost everything I owned. As I said earlier, nothing like this ever happened to me before. And nothing like this has ever happened to me since. To those who are reading this and scoff at my claim I say this. Just because it has not happened to you yet, doesn’t mean it will not happen to you ever.
About the author
My stories come in the form of vivid dreams. The challenge is putting them to words. I'm medically a retired navy veteran and nurse, world traveler, artist, lecturer, and past journal reviewer with 5 ferrets who keep me very entertained