Sensitivity in an insensitive world

I guess I always knew I was a little different. I experienced things that other people didn't. I felt things that others didn't feel. I saw, and occasionally heard, things that didn't exist for anyone else.

I struggled with my experiences in my youth. I had a recurring night terror as a child that was so vivid -- and so utterly horrifying -- that it still causes me pain to think about it as an adult.

I would be laying bed when I would feel a thick, dark, ominous mass in front of my face. It would become difficult to breathe, and my limbs would begin to feel paralyzed. I would fight with every ounce of everything I was worth to pull my covers up over my head.

That's when the voice would reverberate inside my skull with the violence and anger of four death metal bands each playing a different tune within the space between my ears. It was SO LOUD that it made my ears hurt. But it was also entirely within my own head.

It would say the same thing every time.

"How DARE you cover your head when I'm talking to you." But it didn't matter if my head was covered or not. It was in me. It was of me. And at the same time, it was a massive weight...its own entity entirely, holding me in place while I shook my head violently, trying to wake up.

Then came the most horrifying part. I would wake up, still unable to move. Though I'm sure the paralysis lasted only a few seconds, it felt like days. Imagine...being fully conscious but unable to move. If that's not true terror, I can't imagine what is.

I saw counselors, hypnotists, and medical professionals to help me come to grips with what I was experiencing. Being a kid, I made shit up, which likely through them off track. "It's dark and there's a mean voice," just didn't seem scary enough for them to understand.

Having done some research over the years, I now know that what I experienced was a night terror. There are paintings that date to the middle ages showing victims of this unspeakable horror with monsters sitting on their chests and pained looks on their faces. It is not a terribly uncommon experience, unfortunately, with some studies saying most folks will experience it at least once in their lifetime. (I pray that if you haven't, you never will. And I pray that if you have, you find peace. I kid you not.This experience fucked me up, and for a long time.)

My research has provided me with many potential explanations. As I said, simple night terror, alien abduction, or.....or a spiritual/demonic encounter.

There were reasons that I leaned toward the abduction theory for a time, but I won't get into them here. (I will address them in a later post.) And I'm sorry, but I know my body and mind well enough to understand the difference between a simple night terror, and something much more sinister.

I still don't know who (or what) I was dealing with in that dream. But I am certain that it was inherently evil, and probably demonic. Unfortunately, I was too much of a pussy as a little kid to try to figure it out. I almost wish I could have the dream again, in order to face my deepest fear with the knowledge and courage of a man...a man who now knows he is sensitive to spirits.

I've had quite a few experiences with the paranormal throughout my life, but I had my sensitivity confirmed for me when I was fortunate enough to investigate Jean Bonnet Tavern in Bedford, Pa. with Jofa Kauffman and Patty Wilson.

It was a great night. We recorded some good EVP (electronic voice phenomena) and collected some other fun evidence. But it was the last room of the night that changed my life.

The room was a small dining area, with a fireplace on the outside wall. There were three rows of tables. I felt a little uncomfortable, and was getting tired, so I sat at the back table while the rest of the group moved to the front. I can't quite explain what I was feeling, but I noticed as soon as we entered that room. It was a different feeling than I had all night to that point.

Patty began conducting some EVP. Asking who was there with us, if they had anything they wanted to share. Suddenly she stopped and turned to me.

"Jason. The person I'm talking to was in the military. So were you. I think he may respond better to you."

I have chills again as I type this.

I asked the entity his name. I asked his rank. I asked what had happened to him. And while I tried to fight off the emotions welling inside me, I began bawling and had to get out of the room.

I went out on the back porch of the tavern, trying to catch my breath and escape whatever it was I was feeling.

That's when Patty's husband Hutch came out and put his arm around me. It felt good to be embraced by another human. It grounded me somehow. It kind of pushed my reset button. Suddenly I was OK...mostly.

"This is how it starts," Hutch said to me, a comforting knowing grin on his face. "You're sensitive. You have two choices now. Embrace this, or decide you want nothing to do with it."

In actuality, I had no choice. Not in my mind. If I was able to do this, I was going to do this. I shook his hand and told him, "I'm in."

We went back inside. Patty and I continued conducting our EVP session.

Before long, we were both in tears. She put her arm around me. Again, her touch grounded me. I felt secure and safe, even though there was an overwhelming level of sadness in me that I knew wasn't mine.

It was my first real experience with clairsentience. Clairsentience means "clear feeling." In other words, people like me are able to feel the raw emotions of spirits and entities. And believe me, the emotions I was feeling were RAW.

It was a strange feeling. I was crying. I felt the intense emotions of the spirit with whom we were communicating, and yet I knew full well that those feelings were not mine. They were his, and I was able to feel that clear distinction.

I also got incredibly tired. I was physically exhausted by the experience, despite just sitting at a table the entire time. Patty explained to me that spirits use the energy of people like us to manifest themselves. It's a gift and a privilege. And I pray that those entities who need me will use as much of my energy as they ever need, always.

As we were conducting the session, my face felt funny. Hot. Tingly on the left side. And just full of pressure. Patty, explained that as well, with corroboration from the EVP we recorded.

The soldier's name was Mark. He was a sergeant in the Army. He told me both of those things, on the recording, in immediate response to the questions I asked.

Patty was able to discern that he had suffered a severe facial injury in WW I, the result of a rifle buttstroke to the left side of his face.

He returned home, unable to find work because of his disfigurement, and sunk into a deep depression. His misery, and feelings of hopelessness were as real as if I had been enduring them myself.

I will never forget Patty saying, "Jason, we're going to help him to cross over." I didn't have to ask what that meant. I knew. And I wanted Mark's pain gone forever. I needed him to experience the eternal peace deserving of a God-fearing man who had served his nation well.

Patty and I held hands. I cried some more. She talked Mark toward the bright white light. She cried when someone came through to help Mark on his way. It was the enemy soldier. The one who had crushed Mark's face. He extended his hand in peace. And he escorted Mark home.

I felt the very instant that Mark crossed. The pain, tension, and sorrow I had been feeling were lifted -- replaced by a sense of overwhelming peace, and again, exhaustion.

I don't expect most of my friends to read this story, let alone accept it at face value. Before I had this deeply personal and amazing experience, I was somewhat skeptical as well. I always believed in ghosts and spirits, angels and demons, but it took this incredibly personal experience to make me realize how important this realm is to me.

I believe that everyone is born with some level of sensitivity. After all, sensitivity to spirits should be pretty normal, given that these meat suits that we all wear contain one. It's reasonable to expect a dog to be able to communicate with a dog, a cat with a cat, a spirit with a spirit.

I also believe that we have to be willing to accept our sensitivity. I think Hutch was right. I think I could have said, "Nope. I want no part of this," and shut myself off. But I felt a calling to continue that I could not ignore.

I think sensitive people are like ER nurses, or paramedics, or firefighters, or police officers. Not everyone can handle this kind of work; especially on an emotional level. But I believe that those who can -- just like our first responders -- should.

So now you know a little bit about me, who I am, what I do, and why I love it so incredibly much. Stay tuned, and I'll share more of my personal journey as I explore this part of me that I wish I would have "met" sooner.

Thanks for reading.

Jason