"My Mother’s Spirit Saved Me from an Accident"

As a student, I rented a tiny basement room because I couldn’t afford anything else. The whole apartment was just one room, except for a small bathroom. I’d been living there for a month when one night I woke up and went to the bathroom. Having lived in a dorm for years, I habitually locked the door behind me. While sitting on the toilet, I heard footsteps in the room, then someone started shaking the bathroom door. For the first time in my life, I was so scared my body went completely limp and no sound came out of my throat.

The latch was a flimsy little lock that even a child could break, but whatever it was kept shaking the door until it suddenly stopped. I stayed frozen in the dark for another half hour before I dared to leave. The basement had tiny windows that only a cat could fit through, and all were locked, just like my door was bolted from the inside. Eventually, I found a better place to rent and moved out relieved a few weeks later.

My mom passed away suddenly at 55 from a heart attack. A week later, I was stopped at an intersection when the light turned green, but my car wouldn’t move. I pressed the gas pedal, but nothing happened, and the drivers behind me started honking. At that moment, a truck sped past me at high speed, its bed loaded with cargo. If I had moved when the light changed, I wouldn’t have survived. I gasped for air, my heart pounding, and I smelled my mom’s perfume. Once I gathered myself, the car started and worked perfectly.

I was six when we found a cat and took her in. At that age, I mostly liked to cuddle and hold her, but Cirmi didn’t like being squeezed and usually ran away from me. One afternoon, she didn’t come home – she was an outdoor cat – and I remember my mom was worried. Just as I was about to fall asleep, Cirmi jumped onto my bed and purred. I was thrilled because she’d never come to me like that before, and she stayed until I fell asleep.

The next morning, I proudly told my parents, who sadly said that Cirmi had been hit by a car, the neighbor told them, and she had already been buried. So Cirmi couldn’t have cuddled with me the night before, but I’m sure she visited to let me know she loved me, even though I only knew how to love her like a child.

As a child, my room was upstairs. One afternoon, I went downstairs to the kitchen for ice cream. I heard my brother calling me from upstairs, then he stopped. When I went back up, he looked shocked and said he’d found me in my room and even talked to me, wondering how I could be downstairs in the kitchen at the same time. Two years later, guests came over – a little boy and girl, children of my dad’s coworker.

I sent the boy upstairs to get a toy, and when he returned, he asked why there were two of me. He said he met me upstairs too. The third time was when I was a teenager, showering, and I heard my mom calling me, then stopping. When I stepped out and met her in the hallway, she froze and said she’d just talked to me in my room. I don’t know what my room really is – maybe a portal to another dimension, or maybe my own spirit lives there?

When my son was born, we visited my mother-in-law’s countryside home to introduce the baby and stayed overnight. My husband went to his brother’s place, and I, tired, went to bed in the guest room upstairs. Just as I was about to fall asleep, an elderly lady came in and said she was happy to meet me. I didn’t know who she was and thought she might be a great-aunt I hadn’t met. She said she wouldn’t disturb me further, just wanted to see the beautiful baby, welcomed us to the family, and then left.

The next morning, I asked my mother-in-law who the kind lady was, but she had no idea what I meant. I described her long white hair and blue dress. My mother-in-law’s face drained of color, and without a word, she found a photo. “Yes, that’s her,” I said. She then told me it was her mother, who had died 25 years ago and was buried in that blue dress.