This is an odd topic because, on further examination, I realized that I can’t really pick a first. There are several aspects that were extreme firsts.
The first one that I consciously remember was attending my Great-Aunt Dorothy’s hand-fasting. My father didn’t want me there because it was a pagan ceremony, so they sent me off to play in the faerie garden while the adults were ‘jumping the broomstick.’ Of course, realizing that I was being sheltered from something, I immediately began scheming on how I could witness the prohibited event.
As I was watching the adults perform their odd ritual (in my little 3 year old eyes… I can date this because I remember my sister being far too young to play with, but being slightly aware of the world around her), something began tugging on my hair. I batted it away with my hand, but after a few moments, it began to persist again. I looked, grumpy and irritated at whatever branch happened to be reaching for me. My expression of irritation faded completely when I saw that what was tugging at my follicles was no less than a miniature humanoid with odd dragonfly like wings. I fell out of my tree, and insisted that I imagined the thing… until I pulled at my hair and found a little braid that we had to pull out with a toothpick. Our fingers were not capable of undoing the little thing.
The other big incident I remember is when I started hallucinating at age 10. I’d always had a kind of off perspective on the world, but when my emotions are in extremes, it melts away even further. The world kind of shifts and takes on the hues and perspectives of those around us. In my first huge depression of my life, I left little dying black flowers in the oil-like slicks I left behind wherever I touched anything. I thought I was crazy and might as well paint the entire room with it. I touched every single surface in my bedroom until the entire room was filled with the dying morning glories. When I blacked out, my mother said that she could see that something had been done to the room. Soon after talking to my Aunt Dorthy, I began studying the occult.
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When I was 13, I changed the normal color of my eyes from blue to green. My eyes had always shifted color between the two based on my emotions. Normally, when I was happy, they were blue. When I was sad or angered, they were green. Now, I thought that my eyes were the most beautiful when they were green, and considered the fact that happiness brought about an undesirable change in hue to be unacceptable. I wanted adhere to my version of beauty and was desperate to achieve the results.
I locked myself in the bathroom for several hours on my birthday. Everyone in the house was asleep, and I waited until near to midnight to complete my bath. With candles scattered about the counter top, I completed what I believed to be a rededication with a physical repercussion. A great deal of meditation, desperation, and reassigning the new colors to the emotions took place. When I felt that this was complete, and I had accomplished my goal, I stood in front of the steam covered mirror. After reciting a small incantation, I wiped a part of the glass clean, so that I could look.
Elation came over me when I saw my eyes were green. I was happy, and my eyes were green. The change persisted. When I’m saddened or angry, my eyes turn blue. When I am happy, or largely content, the default is green.
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Like Ms. Twist, I have memories that cannot be accounted for. There are things that happened that I cannot possibly ever have proof of. Instances that did not go the way they should have. This comes from as early as 10 years old. Chasing odd creatures, moving faster when dropping to all fours, memories of lives that are not mine… that is why I write, as a fantasy author. I require an outlet for these memories. The oddest part is, when I have them… all of the sensations and emotions are accurate. These pseudo memories inspire hate, fear, anger, rage, depression, and all other sorts of emotions. It’s strange, but most of them have an element that I can pick apart and go “here… here’s what makes it unreal.”
23, July 2008 at 10:20 pm
And here I thought the hallucinating thing was just me. Although I never put it down to hallucinating… dragons and monsters are real right?
I think you were lucky to have an aunt in the occult. My family on both sides is Christian so it’s very mucha not talk about thing in my families homes.
On a more practical base, and a lighter topic, how about your favorite way to cast spells for the next topic?
24, July 2008 at 9:15 am
I’ll count both of those as topics, seeing as I have the draft for the first one.
I swear that we both kind of covered the ‘favorite way’ one, at least a little, but it should be fun to expound upon it.
24, July 2008 at 4:31 pm
What wonderful tales. Thanks for sharing them because it offers ‘hope’ to others that have had unusual experiences that others want to deem as “odd’ or “crazy’ or “psychotic’ or whatever. LOL
I haven’t seen a fairy yet, in fullness. But I heard one giggle. It’s still etched in my memory, the sound of it. Happened just a few years ago when I was using Brian Froud’s Faery Oracle cards
24, July 2008 at 4:33 pm
Thank you.
I haven’t really seen once since. Most of my lovely aperations are odd shadows, or things moving in ways that they shouldn’t. It’s interesting to get a full view of something like that, even if I was so young at the time.