A mini vacation was desired and I had a few free days to make those plans to hit the hills. Rather it was the drive through our mountains to arrive on the west coast. A quick visit with a family member, a few photos taken, a few places visit, a few too many times getting lost. It was all fun.
It’s time to get back to my cozy home and so I head out on the highway toward my stop to rest for the night. A trucker’s paradise for those that travel and the coffee shops and fast food dot the side of the road. I duck into this small town and locate my motel. In minutes I am given my key after checking in and bring my weary body to my 2nd floor room. It is at the end of a long hallway. Tucked in next to the only other occupant, a man in this old but clean refuge. I question the fact that we are way at the end of this 60 unit but I do not bring it up to the manager. I unwind for the night and get ready for bed but sleep does not come. It is as if I am not alone. It feels creepy. The tv on to keep me company and the lights too as I try to gain some shut eye. I turn the tv off. That must be it. But still I toss and turn. Blessed relief I find my spot in line to dreamland.
2:30 am. I am suddenly awake. I listen to anything that could have possibly woken me up. No noises. Nothing at all except for the hum of trucks in the distance as they pass this sleepy town. Again I play that game of toss and turn. I know that tomorrow will be another long day of driving and I truly need this rest. I fall to sleep.
4:18 am. Startled awake and it feels darn right icky, creepy and what ever else you want to add. I feel as though something is staring at me. It is not nice. It does not feel good in this room. A male presence is definitely in here. This is where I add that walking into my room my minds eye seen an older man, a slave to the road, tall and grizzled.
I make a hasty plan. Wide awake and nothing, I repeat nothing is going to keep me here. It takes minutes but am washed, dressed, packed and carry two loads of luggage down that long hallway to my car. Desperately wanting out of there. Fast. It is dark when I leave but know that I am safe with the truckers following them down these mountain roads. Safe.
It was days later that I knew I had those same feelings growing up as a child in a 1930’s bungalow. Being stared at. It creeped me out. It was many days, many years that I dealt with this staring. How could one forget. Frightful nights and days of an eerie sensation undefined and not substantive. But this gal did until walking into it again. Hello Spirit.