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I had a friend. He was also disabled but his disability was more of an illness and he acquired it during his early adulthood - he had Multiple Sclerosis, M.S., and he hated every minute of it, his bitterness, frustration and suffering intensifying as his illness progressively incapacitated him. By the time I got to know him, he was already dependent on a wheelchair and his parents. He had to sell his own home and return to his Mum and Dad to be cared for. His name was Mike and he was an artist, a teacher and computer-buff. He was the epitome of the Flower Power Sixties with his gentleness, love of nature, peace and women. And women adored him.
Mike couldn't wait to die. He'd had enough. Every new year he would say to me "God, I hope this is my last. I don't want another birthday."
One night there was a thud on a window. Mike's father went to investigate. Pulling back the curtains, he found on the huge pane of glass an extraordinary impression of an owl in flight. It seemed to be an imprint created by the force of the hapless predator. It also looked like someone had painted a negative image.
Everyone went outside to see if there was a dead or injured owl lying on the ground....but there wasn't. There was absolutely no sign of it. No feathers, no blood, nothing. Yet the image was fantastically clear and certainly not painted on. It would have required a skilled artist.
See for yourself....below is a photograph Mike's father took the next morning.
The image soon faded and a few month's later Mike died from a brain haemorrhage.
There is a tradition that owls are omens of death. And there's a saying that if you hear the Owl call your name, or visits your home in strange circumstances, you know you are soon to die...
I have nothing more to say. ~ Nabil Shaban 1999
Have you had any uncanny experiences you would like to tell me about? If so email me: jinghiz@msn.com
© 1997 jinghiz@msn.com
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