Supernatural Friday-Ghostly Dreams-Guest Blogger Kit Wylde

Today, I have guest blogger author Kit Wylde blogging about ghostly dreams for Supernatural Friday.

Ghostly Dreams

Do you have them? If so, are they more often scary and unsettling, or just a dream with a ghost in it? Have you ever had them spill over into your every day life?
I have been plagued with ghostly dreams a good portion of my life. They don’t necessarily come during times of stress. Sometimes, a scary show will “inspire” one. Most of the time, they are unsettling and come out of nowhere. Sometimes, they carry messages, but not always.

Last week, I had a ghostly dream. It was an unsettling, if not a scary one. Unlike the dream I had over a year ago. My daughter was ill with a high fever. As she has had seizures in the past, fevers put me on high alert. This one particular night, I woke up because my daughter was making noises in her sleep and something had “disturbed” the atmosphere. It was an unwelcome visitor. Next thing I know, I am being dragged off the bed and hauled toward the door. Fear ratcheted through me, quickly followed by anger and determination. As my body flew toward the doorway, I braced my feet in front of me and said aloud, “Absolutely not. You are not welcome here. Leave now.”

I jolted awake in bed. It was only a dream…or was it? My daughter was sleeping more peacefully than she had that entire night. I did not sleep well after that, but my daughter did.

This dream was unsetting, but also empowering. Perhaps I had conquered a fear. Or perhaps it was something else. However, the most disturbing are the kind where I wake up and actually see whatever it was chasing me in my dream hovering over me. That’s only happened a few times. And once, I dreamt of visiting a house where a ghostly gentleman in 1800 garb lived. A few days later, I saw him standing outside the window at my parents’ house, looking in.
In high school, I had a week of prescient dreams. They showed nothing of great import, but little things like someone telling me something before they actually did. It became very confusing. For instance, someone would say, “I ran my best time today.”

I’d say, “Yeah, I remember you telling me that earlier.”

“No, I haven’t told you that yet,” they’d say.

“Are you sure? I swear you did. I know you did.” An image of a dream would appear in my mind at that point, and I’d remember the dream.

It got to the point where reality and dreams melded, and I had to stop the dreams. I couldn’t handle it.

In other paranormal dreams, I’ve been chased by demons, thrown around by ghosts, I’ve banished demons, exorcised ghosts, exorcised demons, fought monsters, traveled between dimensions, and numerous others that I don’t remember anymore. I’ve even dreamt of faeries. Some of my dreams have inspired stories. Others, I wonder if they are memories of past lives.

This particular story, Hieroglyphs, was not inspired by any dreams, but it did come to me almost as a dream, and as I researched Ancient Egypt, my “fictional” story was not so “fictional” as I thought. The more I discovered, the more I wondered whether I was writing fiction or if I had an ancient ghost whispering in my ear, telling me their story. Or was this story based on “memories” of a past life?

It’s hard to say.

Do you have ghostly dreams? Do they ever spill over into real life? Do you write about them? Or do you just love to read about it?

Blurb:

When a new hieroglyphic alphabet is discovered on an ancient Egyptian scroll, expert archaeologist Joslyn Wetherly is called in to decipher it. Joslyn is obsessed with the scroll, and that obsession threatens her marriage.

But soon her life is threatened as the secrets of the scroll prove dangerous. Before Joslyn realizes what is happening, she is embroiled in a rivalry between two long-dead pharaohs, their Egyptian gods, and past life karmas.

Will Joslyn survive the secrets revealed in the scroll? Or will she be the next victim of the ancient feud?

Excerpt:

Joslyn shivered in the oppressive, summer heat. The taxi, an old Mercedes, conveyed Sam and her to the university. It darted in and out of traffic, narrowly missing pedestrians and other vehicles on the packed roads. Her stomach churned as she clutched the safety strap.

When she’d come to Egypt for her thesis, its exotic culture, people and energy had enthralled her. The massive entrance building to Cairo University, with its white marble dome and beautiful Arabic architecture, never failed to humble her. It bespoke a veneration of learning seldom seen in the West. But the looming university’s white marble façade looked soiled from smog at a distance, and a mantle of foreboding settled over her.

Sam leaned forward, pointing to the entrance steps. “Right here.”

The taxi bumped up the curb and stopped partly in the walkway. Mistrusting, black eyes flicked over Joslyn’s blond hair before focusing on Sam. In heavily accented English, the driver demanded, “Forty pounds.”

“But you said thirty at the hotel,” Joslyn protested.

The man shrugged and smiled. “Forty pounds.”

“But....”

Sam cut her off. “Here.”

They climbed out of the taxi and started up the steps with Joslyn still objecting, “Sam, he said thirty.”

“So he did, but ten pounds is less than three dollars. Besides, I’d rather not waste time in an argument that wouldn’t have changed his mind.”

In companionable silence, Sam and Joslyn entered the university. The huge, marble columns beckoned. She wanted to lean against one and absorb its soothing coolness. Instead, she turned to Sam.

“Why meet here? I thought you and Dr. Yousef were friends.”

“We are, but Ali thought you might feel more comfortable in a more formal setting than his house...at least for the first meeting.”

“I don’t foresee us needing a second, Sam.”

“You never know.”

She studied him, not trusting his enigmatic reply. “Sam....”

“Ah, there you are, Sam.” A beautifully modulated voice broke in using perfect English. “And you must be the Miss Wetherly that Sam talks so much about.” Keen, dark eyes swept over her in an appraising manner. “It is a pleasure to meet such a lovely colleague.”

He said the words with such honesty she couldn’t take offense. “Thank you, Dr. Yousef.”

“Please call me Ali, and I will call you Joslyn. We do not stand on ceremony here, do we, Sam?”

“No, we don’t.”

“Now that we have that out of the way, why don’t we adjourn to my office so we can begin. Do you have the scroll?”

“Yes, of course,” Joslyn replied. She had to lengthen her stride to keep up with his quick pace.

“Have you been to Cairo before?”

“Yes. I came here for six months while I finished my Master’s thesis.”

“I don’t remember you.”

“You were on sabbatical that semester.”

“Ah.” Ali turned to Sam. “How long will you be staying?”

Sam glanced surreptitiously at Joslyn before answering. “A few days.”

“A few days?” Ali looked at Sam.

“Unless we have to stay a little longer.”

Joslyn eyed the two men. An undercurrent ran between them. Sam wasn’t telling her everything, but she couldn’t decipher his reasons for withholding any information. Any questions would have to wait until they returned to the hotel, if she read Sam right. “Well, I am expected back on Friday, but I will do everything I can to see that this is completed by then.”

“Here we are.” Ali held the door open for them to enter.

Bookcases covered nearly every inch of wall space. Books and journals filled approximately half of the shelves. She recognized most of the titles. Many were Ali’s, but there were a few by other noted Egyptologists. A large number of the archeological journals had reputations for publishing his work. The other half of the bookcase held translations of ancient scrolls. Having spent hours of research pouring over such documents, Joslyn knew with a glance which translation belonged to which Egyptologist. Again, he had a mixture of his and other experts’, including herself. He had placed a few artifacts in precise positions that displayed them to their best advantage. And the replica of.... A replica? She moved closer to get a better look.

“Ah, I see you have caught me.” A smile warmed his voice. His proximity unnerved her. Reaching around her, he gently picked up the miniature, gold Tutankhamen mask. “Yes, it is an original. It was a ‘gift’ from the government. I only hold it in stewardship.” Abruptly, he replaced it and moved away, taking a seat behind his desk. “Come. Sit. Show me the scroll.”

Reverently, Joslyn removed the scroll from its protective waterproof container and laid it out on Ali’s massive, mahogany desk. They leaned closer to examine the ancient papyrus. The sunlight pouring in from the tall window behind them cast an ethereal glow on the scroll. Before her stunned gaze, the scroll gathered the sunlight into the hieroglyphs. The faded ink lines emitted the luminous, golden radiance of the sun. With each passing second, the light grew brighter. A whirring sound, like the flapping wings of thousands of ibises rising from the Nile, crescendoed to a deafening roar. With a loud clap, the roar softened to a hum that faded away to absolute silence. Golden points of light danced around Joslyn like a halo in a mystical painting, as if she was touched by the gods.

Everything melded into one, then split into tiny molecules that bounced and cavorted in the sparkling light. It seemed to have a will of its own, swirling as if in a kaleidoscope. Joslyn tottered and struggled to remain erect. Gripping the table, she blinked several times, futilely trying to clear her vision. The light coalesced into recognizable objects, and her legs collapsed. She clawed at the table as she slipped to the floor under the weight of nearly 4,000 years of waiting. Unable to move and terrified, she watched in fascinated horror while a gold mask materialized above her and floated down to lightly rest upon her face. The mask seeped into her pores, and a surge of energy jolted through her. Her body convulsed with the impact. It was then that she knew Hatchepsut had joined them.

“Joslyn?”

Sam’s voice barely penetrated the haze surrounding Joslyn’s consciousness. His face swam in front of her. She attempted to respond, but her lips wouldn’t move. Again, she tried. Nothing happened. She felt pasted to the floor for a split second, and then her soul slipped free to hover just below the ceiling. The silver strand of energy seemed far too fragile to keep her displaced soul attached to her possessed body. In disbelief, she watched the scene unfold.

“Joslyn?” Sam crouched down next to her.

“I am Maatkare.” The thready whisper of ancient Egyptian slithered past Joslyn’s lips.

“But there was only one Maatkare...Hatchepsut.” Ali’s eyebrows rose. “Sam, what is this—hocus pocus?”

With a jerk, her body stood and faced Ali. A fiery, angry, orange circle formed around her, pulsing. Heavily accented English grated out. “You doubt me?”
Both men physically flinched. The voice sounded like sandpaper on metal.

“I....” Ali scrambled in retreat.

“So, you are an unbeliever.” Scornful eyes raked Ali’s slim frame. “Perhaps the gods were mistaken.”

Ali visibly trembled under Hatchepsut’s menacing glare. “N-no. I am the one you seek.”

“Then prostrate yourself before your pharaoh.” Hatchepsut turned chilly eyes to Sam. One eyebrow raised in question.

“I am American. We don’t have a pharaoh.”

Her nostrils twitched in irritation.

He quickly added, “But I didn’t say that I didn’t believe you.”

Her gaze flicked back to Ali. “Up. Show me the scroll.”

Ali pointed to the desk.

Hatchepsut caressed the papyrus. A small smile flickered on her face, lighting it with affection before she returned her gaze to the quaking Ali. “Merit will translate this for you tomorrow. Listen carefully.” With a sigh, Hatchepsut left Joslyn’s body.

Joslyn’s soul snapped back into her body, and she slumped over the desk, exhausted. Painfully lifting herself from the table, she said, “Sam…can we return to the hotel now, please?”

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