This past Memorial Day, I had a very strange occurrence while in my local Fred Meyer store.
I was walking down an aisle, looking for some things I needed to pick up and just as I turned toward where the book section is, I just happened to see a book go flying off a shelf.
I don’t mean that it fell. It literally flipped off the shelf, did a double somersault and hit the floor in mid aisle.
At first, I figured it was someone I knew who was trying to be funny. But as I walked all the way around the that gondola these books were on, there was nobody near that aisle of the store.
That was puzzling enough, but when I stooped down to pick up the book to put it back on the shelf, I had to chuckle a bit when I saw the title of the book, “Ghost Stories of the Rocky Mountains.”
Now, the really strange part of the story is that a little later in the day, I was talking to my mon on the phone (my parents still have occasional unexplained phenomena themselves). I mentioned to her the little joke my ghost played on me at Fred Meyer. She immediately asked me what time that happened.
I told her the time in the morning this happened and asked her why she wanted to know the time. She told me the following story:
“This morning, at about the same time you were at Fred Meyer, your dad was on the computer. Out of the blue he called for me to come into the bedroom, quickly. I asked him what was going on and he told me that one of the books on my bookshelf had just tumbled off the shelf. When I went in and picked it up, you will never guess what book it was.”
I said, “Which one?”
“It was a book on angels that your brother Tim (who died unexpectedly in 2008) gave to me.”