I love water. I'm in it as much as allowable - I figure when the skin prunes, it's time to get out, but I love to be by it. I love the mountains, too, but there are plenty of streams up there and I always manage to find one that feels "comfy" and happy that I am there.
Long Story follows: We used to go camping a lot, up in the saddle between Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Adams. There are some great huckleberry (a lot like a blueberry) picking places up there. The place we went to was on a hillside. At the crest of the hill was the division line between Native American berry bushes and everyone else. Believe me, by the time you made it to the sign showing the division line, you felt it or a presence that was determined to keep you away. I watched it and no "white" ever got close to it, except a kid who got pretty close, but he kept stopping every foot or so, then moving tentively on. Finially, he stopped, turned, and ran back to his parrents. He was screaming the whole way down and they looked at him to see what was wrong, like maybe he had ants on him or bees. What he was screaming was, "some one's up there. You can't go up there. They don't like us."
Several people were looking to the crest of the hill, I was one. There was no one there, but I had already gone up that way hoping to find some bushes that had more berries on them. There is definitely a point where you feel like someone is standing in your way. It's a very uneasy feeling. I remember saying, softly, "I'm not going on your side, just want to look at these bushes on my side." But the feeling didn't lighten at all. It was a definite, "Keep Out!" feeling.
Every year we went, I would do the same thing, go as far up the hill as I could and pick my way down. I would go until I got that feeling of "Keep OUT" and then back up one row to pick.
There was a stream a ways from there and we would go there for fresh stream water and cold splashing in the face and rinsing the berries off. There was a place nearby where it looked very inviting to sit and watch the stream go by. But if you went there and sat down, it would not be long before you felt like someone was looming over you and you felt like it was getting closer and closer and you just couldn't sit there for long. I always figured it was a favorite place where some long gone Native American had been keen on once and didn't want to share it even now.
It's alright. That kind of stuff doesn't bother me. I have just learned that it's a form of communication and I know if it was my favorite spot and I didn't want to share it, that I would want the person invading it to leave. I hope when I die, I'll be a ghost and I hope I'm not a selfish ghost. I do plan on robbing a good many bankers that stole money from us a few years back and never were brought up on charges or put in jail. I'm going to invade their house when they are having a party and steel all the jewels and anything else of value right before there eyes. They won't see me, but they sure will see their jewels and valuables floating out of the house. Even if they get the stuff back, I wouldn't care as it would give me a chance to steel it all again. Scaring their socks off is all I'm after. Somewhere down the line, they'll figure out that it would be smarter to sell it than to keep it and it would be very smart to give the money back to the people they stole it from. It will be a feeling that can't live with until they do it.
I think being a ghost is going to be so much fun. Then you'll have to watch the "ghost" shows cuz I'm going to jump in there as often as I can and talk on their recorders telling the world what I did after death and why. I'll be "GhostRobbingHood" so watch for me.
Have a good one.
Author of the published novel, The Double K Ranch!
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