Author Your Supernatural Experiences  (Read 136720 times)

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Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #180 on: September 05, 2011, 11:50:12 PM »
Wow.  And here I live in Halifax and never knew that about the Waverley Inn.

It's a very strange place. If you ever get the chance to wander around in there, go for it. Also the bar across the street (can't remember the name of the place) had some great food and live music.

You're very lucky to live down there, it's a beautiful place. I'd go back in a heartbeat.
Plus live lobster by the pound in the airport that can be carried on to flights!! :P

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #181 on: September 06, 2011, 06:29:48 AM »
my grandmother and i had an agreement that when she died, she'd try to contact me from the other side.  i've received nothing.  for whatever reason, i'd expected otherwise.
I love the stories about your grandmother. I'm going to make such an agreement with my grandmothers.

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #182 on: September 07, 2011, 07:55:52 AM »
I honestly believe that my dad did contact me twice, within a year after he died.


Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #183 on: September 07, 2011, 08:04:13 AM »
I honestly believe that my dad did contact me twice, within a year after he died.

Well don't leave us hanging. Tell us your story.

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #184 on: September 07, 2011, 08:51:34 AM »
I already did!  Go back a page and look for Catsmack!

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #185 on: September 07, 2011, 09:02:13 AM »
I already did!  Go back a page and look for Catsmack!

I think that people may have ignored my posts because of the way that I composed/told about the events.  They did unfold as I described, with my wife being a witness for both "contacts" from beyond.

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #186 on: September 08, 2011, 04:01:23 AM »
I think that people may have ignored my posts because of the way that I composed/told about the events.  They did unfold as I described, with my wife being a witness for both "contacts" from beyond.

I totally believe you, Centurion, and I did read your story when it was first posted.  I guess I just take things like that for granted, because I hear a lot of those happenings. I'm a believer, because the stories I hear are told by people who have a lot of credibility.
 
Good stuff!  Thanks for sharing.   :)

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #187 on: September 08, 2011, 07:44:42 AM »
It's wild.  It could totally be wild coincidence.  But under the circumstances at the time, no other came to my head other than 'it's my dad sending a message'.

I heard some guy on an old C2C on Shoutcast, saying that the 'dead' can choose to maintain a connection with living for up to a year after they pass on and actually make some form of contact. But the window for that contact closes after a year.  While it makes no sense to me that there would be an earthly 52 week time limit, there has been no 'contact' from my dad since 11 months after his death.

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #188 on: September 14, 2011, 06:41:14 AM »
Okay, bear with me because this is going to be kind of lengthy but here are my experiences.

1) I became homeless in 1996 and wound up staying at a friends apartment in Santa Rosa the following year. In July of 1996, my beloved 18 1/2 year old cat Snookie died of cancer. He had been literally born in my arms ( his mama cat lied next to me to have him, only 1 kitten in that litter ) and he bonded with me within a week. He was born at 5:30 AM on my birthday ( 4-28-1977 - his birthdate, mine is 4/28/1952). He and I were inseparable.

   At the time of his death, he was at the vet's and I couldn't be with him as my Mother was ill  in a hospital. I missed him very much.

  So, the Friday before my birthday I was sleeping at my friend's place on a sleeping bag on the floor. That April was very cold and I had the wall heater going full blast. At exactly 5:30 AM I woke up as the room got incredibly cold like I was in a meat locker, even though the heater was on. As I was lying there, I felt a weight on my chest. My Snookie had gotten into the habit of biting my chin in the last year of his life when he wanted attention. Without thinking about it, I reached out for some reason and felt the form of a cat. I could feel the fur, head, body and tail and the weight of the cat was on my chest. As my hand reached the tail, I suddenly felt something bite my chin really hard. I yelled " Snookie " and with that the weight on my chest went away.  I am certain he came back to tell me he was ok and that he still loved me.

2) I now live in a very pet friendly building. Unfortunately, the street I live in has idiots who drive their cars and trucks down the street really fast. I have had many cats in my life, but 2 that were special to me were Mini and Mickey. Their mama cat brougth them into my apartment when they were 2 weeks old and very sick. I nursed both of them back to health with dropper feeding. Mini was very sweet and gentle. My cats both go outside and I was very sick 3 years ago with bronchitis and couldn't go outside to check on them. Mini went out and I kept calling him for hours. About midnight one of my neighbors knocked on my door and asked if that was my cat lying in the middle of the street. It was my sweet Mini Mouse. I cried and cried and buried him in the garden. He loved to sit on his little cat tree. It was his house and special place. Within a few days of his death I kept hearing faint meows even when the other 2 cats were outside. I still hear them from the area where his tree was 4 years ago today.

3) On the night my grandfather died in Germany, we lived in Washington DC. At around 3:30 AM my Mother awoke and saw the figure of her Father appear at the foot of her bed. He was wearing nightclothes and a robe and gestured to her and disappeared. She called Germany and found out that he had died at 3:30 AM our time.

   My Uncle Werner had gone through WWII as a soldier and wound up in Canada after the war. By this time we were living in San Francisco and my Mother hadn't seem him for some time. The night he had a retirement dinner held for him after working 25 years, he came home and died sitting on his couch. My Mother felt something was wrong at that time and called everyone in the family and found that he had died. She always knows somehow when someone in the family is ill or is in trouble.

In 1972, my Father had been ill for some time after serving in the US Army for years. He died of a sudden heart attack on a Friday. We buried him on Saturday and had about 30 people over for a wake. We were all sitting in the living room talking and I looked down the hallway into the bedroom and saw a figure come through the glass of the bedroom window. The figure had a brown sweater on, a green shirt and brown pants. That was an outfit my Father wore frequently. The figure came down the hall and stood in the doorway of the living room. Everyone stopped talking and could see the figure quite clearly. It was not transparent but not quite fully formed either. But all of us could clearly see that it was the image of my Father. He turned to look at me and then my Mother and then walked across the living room and walked through the window, stood on the fire escape for a moment and disappeared. When he looked at my Mother, she fainted and the people who had known him all said it was him.

4 ) San Francisco is said to be a psychic sinkhole that has had numerous paranormal things happen in its history. I happen to be an amatuer historian and my major in college ( straight A's in the subject ) was History. I have taken every college history course available and have also taken courses on the history of California and on the history of San Francisco. I've always been fascinated with the subject.

I had 3 similar experiences in the City while I lived there both as a child and an adult. I cannot explain them.
   In the early 1960's I had been walking about the Presidio of San Francisco and spent a lot of time on the grounds as my Father had been in the Army.

    In an area near the Golden Gate Bridge and overlooking the approaches to the Bay is a former gunnery emplacement. The guns have long been removed but it had artillery there back to the Civil War. That area is surrounded by trees and the sun does not readily get in there well in the day, but it's still quite bright enough to see everything clearly.

    I came upon this area and saw the remnants of the gun emplacements and wondered what it was like  in the past. As I stood there for a moment, I saw the air suddenly shimmer as one would see heat waves rising from the ground, even though it was a cold San Francisco day. Suddenly, the view of the area completely changed. I saw before me soldiers who were dressed in the uniform styles of the Civil War. I saw them working on an artillery piece and their officer was exhorting them to work more quickly. I stood transfixed for several minutes and then saw the air shimmer once again as the soldiers disappeared and the view came back to normal. I was amazed at what I had seen but only told my parents about it.

About 10 years later, I happened to be standing at the corner of First and Mission Streets across from the former Trans Bay Transit Terminal. To my immediate right was a newsvendor stand and the vendor was there yelling the name of the newspaper the SF Examiner. Suddenly, like the incident in the Presidio but very different, I saw everything and everyone change. The vendor changed to someone completely different. On his newstand were the 7 different newspapers that were extant in San Francisco at the time. The cars were different, the people were different and the men and women were mainly wearing hats. Their clothes along with the vendor's were those of the late 1930s or very early 1940s. I happened to look down at my body and saw that my clothes had changed as well as those of someone wearing the fashion of the time. I happened to look over at the newspapers displayed on the newsstand and saw the date on the paper - Saturday December 6th, 1941. I read the headlines of the paper ( and recalled them vividly then but with the passage of time, have forgotten them ) and saw it was the way the old papers looked back then. The cars and people busted upon down the streets and sidewalks in front of me while I looked on in amazement. This went on for a full 5 minutes when suddenly the scene changed and I and the people and cars were back to normal as was I and my clothing.

I had a similar experience while was in front of 450 Sutter Street with the same results.

I do not drink except for a bit of brandy in my tea when I have a cold, don't do drugs and am not prone to hallucinations. I was quite sober at the time and not suffering from a cold or anything else.

I had been told once by a psychic that during WWII I had been a soldier who went off to war and was killed. I've always been interested in military history and militaria and wonder if that's some kind of carryover from my supposed past life.

Thank you for your attention.


Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #189 on: September 15, 2011, 01:46:53 AM »
Thank you for sharing that, Falkie. Your experiences with dead pets and loved ones are fascinating, and give me further hope that there truly is another world beyond this one.

The shifts in time sound like parallel universes, which is another amazing concept that I would love to know more about.
 
These are the kinds of topics I sorely wish would once again be the focus of C2C.

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #190 on: September 15, 2011, 04:16:14 AM »
Thank you for sharing those stories Falkie. Very interesting.

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #191 on: September 22, 2011, 01:08:04 PM »
Yeah Falkie.  That story about your dad's appearance is jaw dropping!

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #192 on: September 22, 2011, 07:04:15 PM »
So I walk into a bar a couple of weeks ago to get a Dr. Pepper during a break. I saw an older guy sitting at the bar, he looked a lot like my dad, roughly the same age too. As I was getting my drink I stared on in amazement at him. His turning around startled me, then he said, and I quote, "Oh yeah, you're that boy that I was supposed to say 'everything is alright' to! So, everything is alright."

My dad died in March, at an age far too young for Alzheimer's to set in.

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #193 on: September 26, 2011, 08:49:53 AM »
Did you go into that bar frequently before the event you described?

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #194 on: October 04, 2011, 04:22:18 AM »
So I walk into a bar a couple of weeks ago to get a Dr. Pepper during a break. I saw an older guy sitting at the bar, he looked a lot like my dad, roughly the same age too. As I was getting my drink I stared on in amazement at him. His turning around startled me, then he said, and I quote, "Oh yeah, you're that boy that I was supposed to say 'everything is alright' to! So, everything is alright."

My dad died in March, at an age far too young for Alzheimer's to set in.
how old was your father?

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #195 on: October 31, 2011, 05:05:01 AM »
Not really a Halloween tale, but definitely supernatural:

My paternal grandmother was long reputed to have the mystical powers of Second Sight. After my mother’s death, she helped my father raise me, and I can attest that her perspicacity was beyond the norm. My grandmother died during my last year in high school (1985, but then, she was born in 1885).

I graduated and decided to do my military service first (before college); besides, I had won a place in the entertainment unit, and I couldn’t pass it up. One night, while I was on leave after a long tour, I dreamed of my grandmother. In the dream, she kept needling me, saying over and over, “What can I do for you? How can I help you? What can I give you? What do you need?” I found myself becoming frustrated, answering, “Nothing. I’m fine. I AM ALRIGHT. I don’t need anything.” I was nearly to a wakened state when she said to me, “I know what you need. I will give you the perfect woman for you.” I did wake up then, and I remember laughing, thinking, “Well, that was a doozy!” I told myself that I would keep strictly to my usual activities and I laughed again. The perfect woman was just going to have to find me.

Later that afternoon, I went down to my local coffee house. Inside, there were three uniformed American servicewomen drinking coffee and setting up a board game. As I approached the bar, one of them said to me, “Do you speak English? I mean, well enough to play Scrabble?” Did my mother not learn English in the land of poets and saints? Instead of calling upon Yeats and Joyce, I’m afraid I went with Swift: “Well, if it isn’t Private Benjamin,” I said. I saw the fire in her eyes, and she told me, “Don’t be a coward,” so naturally, I made up the foursome. I persisted in calling her “Beni” throughout the game (and for long after - another reason her family hates me. Actually, our given names are very similar, so). We moved from coffee to wine and her friends, seeing what was happening, moved away. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the woman who was mercilessly slaying me at Scrabble. Her friends later returned, worried that I could be just some heinous creep, and attempted to give me the third degree. Every answer I gave, Beni laughed with delight, until her friends said, “You’re drunk and we’re leaving!” Neither of us was drunk - perhaps we’d had a glass - but the bottle remained nearly full on the table. While her ‘battle buddies’ were trying to pull her off the chair, Beni was rummaging in her handbag. She found what she was looking for, and laid a piece of paper on the table. Her friend tried to grab it, but Beni took the paper and put it in my shirt pocket. Her friends admitted defeat and they all left together. I wandered in a surreal daze to the bar to pay for the coffee and drinks, and then I walked home. Under the lights on the street, I saw the paper contained Beni’s phone and address, that someone had kindly copied out for her in Hebrew, to show to cab drivers and such.

I called her the next week to go out for dinner. I thought if I called her right away, I would appear too eager. She accepted, even though I could hear disuasive chatter in the background. I borrowed my father’s car, a silver Fiat Spider (the girlfriends were impressed, but I don’t know how he kept that POS running for years), and we went to an upscale dairy restaurant. I don’t think I even tasted the food. I drank in every word she said to me like it was issued from Sinai. When I drove her home, I couldn’t bear to look at her, because just her proximity to me was overwhelming. I stopped the car in front of the barracks-type building where she was being housed, and she turned to me and said, “It’s alright, Avi.”  I jumped out of the car and opened her door, then walked her to the building. I stood on the lower step of the porch and I was about to make an inane speech about how much I enjoyed the evening and sure, we should do it again, when she turned back and put her hand over my heart. I put my hand over hers and she came closer and brought her lips to mine. It lasted only a few seconds, but I believe all the longing in the world was in that kiss. Then the gatekeepers turned on all the lights in the barracks. Funny, but I thought every light in the universe was already on. My speech forgotten, all I could say was, “Beni… Beni.” She disappeared through the door, and bang, out went the lights. It was just as well, because I was trembling so hard I could not walk. I just stood there in the dark, trying to smell her scent on my palm.

I did manage to pilot myself home, where my father was waiting for me. I told him, “This is the woman I’m going to marry.” My father looked at me closely and said, “I can see you’ve got it bad, but maybe you should slow down a little.” I could tell he was laughing at me, but he asked, “What’s her name, anyway?” I know I had a stupid look on my face, but I answered, “Beni.” My father appeared stunned. I said, “Abba, what’s wrong?” but he held up his hand and went to his desk. In his hands he held a yellowed envelope. “Your grandmother told me to give you this when the time was right.” He passed me the envelope and I could see my grandmother’s formal script, grown spidery with age. It said, “For Avi’s Beni.” Inside was my grandmother’s filigreed engagement ring, that she had re-sized and set with a ruby. It fit Beni’s finger perfectly, where it remains to this day.

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #196 on: October 31, 2011, 11:53:34 AM »
Not really a Halloween tale, but definitely supernatural:

Wow great story. Just out of curiosity, does Beni have any meanings other than a name?

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #197 on: October 31, 2011, 01:10:54 PM »
Avi ... start writing that screenplay now

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #198 on: October 31, 2011, 03:41:35 PM »
that's beautiful, Avi. Dreams are a lot stranger than we give them credit for - and the cool thing is, EVERYBODY gets them.

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #199 on: October 31, 2011, 05:21:39 PM »
Avi, how wonderful.  Just the thing to warm a heart.   :)


Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #200 on: November 01, 2011, 01:57:26 AM »
Wow great story. Just out of curiosity, does Beni have any meanings other than a name?
It's a nickname for Benyamin, a man's name, so I'm sure my dad was a little concerned :).  I had to leave many details out, but earlier in the week, I had seen the film, Private Benjamin.

As skeptical as I am, generally, I know that there is not a naturalistic explanation for everything, nor do I have the faith that eventually, science will have an explanation for everything. From a psychological standpoint, one could say, "Oh, the dream primed you for the experiences that followed and seeing Private Benjamin primed you to call your wife Beni." Seems reasonable enough, but how did my grandmother know this years before the events transpired? She even re-sized and fancied up her betrothal ring, in 1974, when I was seven years old (the receipt was in the envelope) and we think that's when she wrote the inscription. Now that, is weird. Also, the whole experience was surreal in a way that I cannot really describe, beyond psychological priming; everything that occurred seemed as though it were decreed - not in retrospect, but as it was happening. Very strange.

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #201 on: November 01, 2011, 10:55:28 AM »
It's a nickname for Benyamin, a man's name, so I'm sure my dad was a little concerned :)
haha

She even re-sized and fancied up her betrothal ring, in 1974, when I was seven years old (the receipt was in the envelope) and we think that's when she wrote the inscription. Now that, is weird. Also, the whole experience was surreal in a way that I cannot really describe, beyond psychological priming; everything that occurred seemed as though it were decreed - not in retrospect, but as it was happening. Very strange.
Wow well this added bit makes me like the story even more. I also really feel the "decreed as it occurs" notion as well. I've had moments like that in life as well and that is a great way to put it into words.

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #202 on: November 01, 2011, 02:02:55 PM »
What a great story!

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #203 on: November 02, 2011, 05:30:01 AM »
Avi ... start writing that screenplay now

Speilberg turned it down - said it went off the Richter Scale of schmaltz, if you can believe it. He wanted aliens to blow up the barracks after abducting my Beloved. Then, I would lead the Nahal Brigade in an intergalactic shoot-out with the aliens, but we would finally triumph after my trusty Hyena sidekick, Kosherbacca, set upon them with Fata Morgana and Harel Skaat. Then, the final scenes would show us feeling guilty for the rest of our lives.


Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #204 on: November 03, 2011, 07:23:03 AM »
Quote
Avi ... start writing that screenplay now

I hope the above reply wasn't too flippant or insulting. It's difficult for me to tell what is meant seriously, sometimes, but, truth be told, our wedding would make one hell of a comedy. You know how I say Beni’s family hates me? Well, this is why. Beni called her family from Israel and said, “Get over here; I’m getting married.” I married her 2 weeks to the day after I met her (well, the dates were right; if you’re Jewish you know what I’m saying – if not, it’s weird and complicated, don’t worry about this detail). Her family and mine met for the first time 2 days before the wedding. Her mother’s first words upon meeting me were to hiss, “What kind of a Jew is this!” Then she turned to her husband and said in Yiddish, “I think he’s ayn bissel schwartze (a bit of a nigger).” Nice. My mother’s family is Yemenite (so, yes, I probably do have some African blood), living in Israel since the mid-eighteenth century and my father’s family comes from a very remote area of what would be Kurdistan - where they lived in isolation and spoke freakin’ Aramaic until 1948. Ya can’t get more Jewish than that. Still, there were more Yiddish words on the horizon. Beni is descended from some Ashkenazi big-shot, and this is how I learned the term “yichus (status).” I don’t have any. The other lead balloon was the fact that to marry as a Jew in Israel is not such an easy thing. It was Beni who had to provide her bona fides to the proper authorities, not me, which ticked Mama off no end.

I’ll skip over the ceremony itself – stand up, sit down, stand up, sit down, droning recitation, the ring, sign the papers, etc. It’s a very long intro to a very long day filled with various oddities that I can describe if anyone really wants to know. The funny part begins after the service, when the bride and groom are given a few minutes to themselves, before the hoe-down and stampede begin. Beni and I were upstairs in my father’s bedroom, where snacks and drinks were laid out for us. It’s customary to fast until this point. Of course, you feel like you’ve been spun in a centrifuge and then shot through a wind tunnel, queasy and light-headed and ramped up on adrenalin. Add the nerves on top of it all, and you, too, might do what I did: run into the bathroom and retch. Now there’s the mouth with which you want to learn to kiss your bride. I came out of the bathroom, looking rather green, and Beni took one look at me and burst into tears. Oh no, no! I took her in my arms, now in tears myself, and said “Shh, shh,” and all that, patting her back. Suddenly, there came a banging on the door. “Is that my daughter crying in there? What have you done?” Dear mama-in-law was standing outside the whole time with her ear to the door. I opened the door and I said, as though addressing one of my superior officers, “Ma’am, it’s been a stressful day, ma’am, as I’m sure you remember, and I want you to know, ma’am, that if ever your daughter cries, I cry, too.” No dice. My father slipped in behind dear mama, looking in the air above his head for the English words he knew were there somewhere. Finally, he eked out, “My son……hee ees…good boy,” with the satisfaction of a man who thought he was constipated but discovered that he wasn’t. Mama rolled her eyes in his face. Beni finally realized it was up to her. She said, “Mom, you need to bring me my bag so I can fix my make-up.” With a grand harrumph, Mama turned on her heel and said, “Something sure needs fixing!”

My father gave us a handful of ginger chewies (thank the Creator for the Australians who made aliyah to join our kibbutz and help with the wine production), and went out, shutting the door behind him. We thought this rather strange, but ginger chewies calm the savage digestive tract and clean up your breath after fasting, with the added plus of a small boost of sugar. But as we watched each other chewing our cud, we were struck with the giggles. Mama returned to find us laughing and pawing the air in one another’s direction. We giggled for a bit until Beni grabbed her bag and went into the bathroom, guffawing all the way. Mama and I stood at the end of the bed in uncomfortable silence, punctuated by my snickers, staring down at the quilt. Big mistake. As she looked down upon that bed, it hit her right between the eyes what I was going to do to her precious daughter later that night. These thoughts occurred to me, too, and I’m sure my face was suffused with the stupidest giggly bliss, evah. Mama gave me a look of pure, unadulterated hatred, and then, we both heard Beni rebound giggle. That was the final straw. Everything seemed to go to slo-mo. I tried to scoot around Mama and run for the door, but it was not to be. With a rebel yell, Mama launched herself onto my back, grabbing my feathery-fluffy 80’s hair-do in her fists and pulling out clumps of my hair. I could sympathize with the fact that I was taking her baby away and she hadn’t had much time to come to terms with it, but at that moment I just wanted to deck her. My father stood helplessly in the hallway, words having deserted him again, shaking his head and saying, “Ma’am…ma’am…ma’am, please,” as Mama’s fists rained down upon my head. Beni tore out of the bathroom and pulled her mother off of me, then, with arms upraised like Yael wielding a tent peg, she blocked me from further pummeling. Poor Mama. She saw where her daughter’s loyalties now lay, and she sank down, wailing loudly enough to compete with the foghorns in the Port of Haifa. I looked down at my wedding finery, covered with mascara, hair and blood, grabbed Beni’s hand, and said, “Fuck it! You’re an Israeli now!” Naturally, Mama stopped wailing as we passed, long enough to say, “Such a mouth! Feh!” but, thankfully, she had lost steam. We went to my bedroom and changed into t-shirts and blue jeans. Mama couldn’t believe it when we came out. She asked Beni, “You’re wearing pants now?” I said, “Yes, she’s wearing pants and we’re going back to the party and you’re going to pretend to be happy for your daughter, whatever it takes.”

I hadn’t counted on the impression we would make once we returned to party-central. We had changed our clothes, our hair was wrecked and I had scratches on my neck. Some looked upon me with awe and others with disgust, but the Israeli contingent, after gazing upon us, ran out of the building en masse to change their own clothes (if they had bothered to dress up in the first place). And we went out on the dance floor and danced to Madonna’s Dress You Up (yes, we did):



Next, the guys in my unit and I performed the song. Mama watched this in utter dread. She said, “What are you, a feigele (homosexual)?” as we danced near. We grabbed her off the chair and the guys made her boogie. And I turned to Mama and said, “Fuck it! You’re an Israeli now!”  There is a g-d, Mama finally laughed. After Get into the Groove, she was unstoppable. Every anniversary, we toast Madonna, in spite of all that Kabbalah crap.



Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #205 on: November 03, 2011, 08:36:34 AM »
Avi, there are 2-3 movies in your life story!!!

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #206 on: November 03, 2011, 08:18:19 PM »
Avi, there are 2-3 movies in your life story!!!

HA!  A series to rival Star Trek!     ;)   
Avi, you are sooooo great!  I spent the past week end buried in snow with NO power.  I didn't think I'd be smiling so soon.  Thank you!    :-*

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #207 on: November 04, 2011, 02:32:23 AM »
Avi, you seem to do everything well!  How is a right-brained musician also so good with words? :)

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #208 on: November 04, 2011, 03:07:53 AM »
Avi, you seem to do everything well!  How is a right-brained musician also so good with words? :)

Oh no, then I have given the wrong impression entirely. I do very few things well, but such is life. Initially, I thought b_dubb's comment was just snarky, but then, I thought, well, maybe it was sincere - so I treated it both ways. I find reading "tone" and humor through the net is sometimes very difficult.

I have done extensive work with psycho-acoustics - studies related to what music does to the brain. Actually, listening to music is one of the most 'whole brain' activities one can do (it seems to help Alzheimer's patients, too; sometimes music is the only thing they can remember), but the interesting thing is that the brains of trained musicians don't 'light up' as much, because the activity has become more streamlined and many of the listening functions are handled by the analytic portions of the left brain. I think music ability can produce a facility with languages; certainly, it must, if one is a vocalist. It's odd, but music and dance help the brain to develop facility in other areas, probably by the integration of functions across the spheres. It's a pity that arts are usually the first programs whacked from the education budget. There are only 4-5 things that all of the world's cultures share in common, and music and dance are two of them (the others being art, story-telling and body adornment).

Re: Your Supernatural Experiences
« Reply #209 on: November 04, 2011, 03:16:08 AM »
HA!  A series to rival Star Trek!     ;)   
Avi, you are sooooo great!  I spent the past week end buried in snow with NO power.  I didn't think I'd be smiling so soon.  Thank you!    :-*

Oh, I have thousands of in-law stories. My life would be quite boring without them, I'm afraid. I've promised my wife that I'll only publish posthumously, thus giving her an incentive to keep me alive as long as possible.