Half-Way to Texas - Sunday Scribblings

Our trip to Dallas started out like any other. Tami, my daughter, and I visit our friends in Dallas at least once a year. Even after 8 years, we still miss living there. Since we usually start our twelve hour drive Friday after work, we stop in Joplin, Missouri for the night and finish the drive Saturday morning. Joplin isn’t exactly half-way, but close enough. Since school was out for the summer, Lauren, my granddaughter, came along on this trip.

We pulled into our usual hotel just before midnight. It was a fairly new hotel, clean, yet affordable. We opened the door to our suite, impressed by the way it was decorated—dark red and gold accents, smelling fresh and clean. We all called dibs on the bathroom at the same time. Lauren got to go first. Once we were all squeaky clean and pajamad up, Tami helped me put sheets on the hide-a-bed, before quietly making her way into the bedroom where Lauren was already asleep.

I crawled into the almost comfortable bed, making sure the sheet covered the blanket. Yes, I am a germ-a-phobe. After all, I’ve seen all those investigative reports on how many types of germs are in hotel rooms even if they look clean. I closed my eyes, opened them, stared at the ceiling, and closed them again. I tried counting sheep hopping over one of those wood rail fences like you see in Tennessee, relaxing my body from the toes up, and counting backwards from one hundred. Nothing worked. I was wide awake. I found the remote and turned on the TV. After flipping through several infomercials, I stopped to watch a repeat of Conan O’Brien, hopeful he would put me to sleep—and he did.

Unfortunately, I didn’t stay asleep very long. All that water I drank earlier was begging me to get up. I didn’t want to get up, not because I was too sleepy, but because the bathroom was through Tami & Lauren’s room and I didn’t want to disturb them. So, although I knew a trip to the bathroom was imminent, I put it off. In denial, I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Of course, I couldn’t. The TV was still on, so I watched a little more of Conan being Conan.

Still unable to sleep, I faced the inevitable. I rolled over onto my right side, facing the interior of the room, my back to the window. I was about to throw back the blanket and stand up when I felt someone sit down on the bed behind me. Sweat popped out on my forehead, every muscle in my body was tensed. I held my breath. I wanted to jump out of bed, but I couldn’t move, not even an eyelid twitched.

Whoever sat down on the bed lay down behind me, snuggling up to my back, as if we were spooning. I could feel a hard chest and muscular legs against the back of mine. I identified my intruder as a man. It was then he lay one hand on my side. It paused for a moment and then slid across my stomach to tuck itself beneath me, pulling me closer against him. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. My teeth began to chatter. I’m not sure if it was from the intense cold in the room, or from fear.

Still unable to move, or scream, my mind raced with questions. How could I get out of his tight grip? What could I use as a weapon to defend myself? If I was successful in getting away, how could I protect my daughter and granddaughter in the next room from this intruder? And then the man was gone.

I didn’t hear a sound, or feel his weight leave the bed. He merely vanished. The arm tucked around my middle wasn’t pulled away. It didn’t move. It became lighter and lighter, as if changing from flesh and blood into vapor, before disappearing into thin air. The intense cold warmed, yet I still couldn’t move.

About fifteen minutes later, I was able to roll over onto my back. I looked toward the window. It was closed, and the floral arrangement on the table in front of it had not been moved. No one could have gotten in through the window without moving the flowers, which confirmed my suspicion. My visitor was not an ordinary human.

I finally got up the nerve to go to the bathroom, even considered shoving daughter over and climbing into bed with them, but I made myself be brave. I crawled back into my bed, this time facing the window. I eventually fell asleep.

The next morning, I told my story to Tami, who said, “Mom! You were just dreaming.”

After more explanation, which fell on deaf ears, she came up with, “Are you sure someone didn’t climb in through the window?”

I’ve given up trying to explain myself. No one believes I was awake. I know my spooner was real, maybe not real, but really there. I was wide awake at the time. To this day, if I bring up the incident, Tami shakes her head in disbelief. We’ve been back to Texas since then, but we’ve never stopped at that same hotel. I’m thinking my daughter might be a believer, as I am—in ghosts.

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