I woke up in the middle of the night to see a shelfful of books and trinkets flying across the room. You might think I’m crazy, but I’d just grown so used to these kinds of things happening that I shrugged my shoulders under the covers, said a quick, sleepy prayer and went back to sleep.
The next day, I tried to figure out a logical, scientific explanation. Like you do, even when you haven’t found one in the past.
Maybe a mouse ran behind my books and pushed them off the shelf? Only thing is, it’s not like things were lying on the shelf like they’d be knocked down. No, they were halfway across the room. Heavy books. Picture frames. Mementos.
I made my brother go outside and beat on the wall behind the bookshelf. Maybe someone had bumped the wall outside? (p.s. what’s creepier: a ghost in my room or a human bumping into my wall at night?) But the experiment yielded nothing. Turns out, bumping against the outside of a brick wall does not transfer to the interior.
Maybe my roommate used the bathroom next to my room during the night and bumped the wall? Nope, closet in between the two rooms.
Earthquake? Not so much.
My imagination? Then what about my bookshelf’s contents all over my floor in the bright light of morning?
So, whenever I think back on the weird things that have happened around me and find myself thinking it was all easily explained, I remember this one. Sometimes it’s just not one’s imagination.
