I was born into a highly dysfunctional family in 1964. My father is a horrid narcissist and my mother a recovering alcoholic. They both were verbally, emotionally and physically abusive. They are older know and I guess too tired to berate their children. I stopped talking to them about 4 years ago. I think the grand creator, Spirit, God or whomever you would like to call this great power gives a child a 6th sense in order to deal with abusive situations. I also believe that Spirit had numerous guardian angels look out for me. That being said, I was thrown into a situation that I will never forget and that was the start of “unusual” goings on in my life. When my father got orders to Vietnam, we stayed with my maternal grandmother in the city of Scranton. I loved Scranton. My favorite childhood memories are of Scranton. I didn’t see the grime, the crime, and all the yuck that Scranton was then. I saw a place where my father never beat me and my mom kept the drinking to a minimum. I shared the largest bedroom with my sister and brother. One night, very late I had turned to my side and was facing the wall. Waiting for sleep to come, I saw a boney jet black hand slowly move up from the side of the bed against the wall. It was slowly clawing the air as if to find me, to grab hold of me. I was frozen with fear. This fear was beyond starting to scream, beyond jumping up and running out of the room. This hand appeared one more night. The second night I got the whole hand thing, but later I woke to feel a large hand over my neck–fingers across my throat. It wasn’t choking the life out of me….but pushing down on my throat as if to tell me…they are there, they don’t like me and I need to know that. I told no one. Who would believe me? The visits to grams house at night were unnerving. Even in my 20’s, I detested having to go to the cellar to get anything. In the bathroom, I was certain something was watching me through the keyhole. I would get a towel and drape it on the knob so they couldn’t see a thing. Could this be the wild imaginings of a lonely child? It could be. But I firmly believe when you are “open”, “they” know before you do.