A Traipse Through the Metaphysical in General Mental Anesthesia

I was reminded of a story (a non-fiction recollection of an event) in fact, that happened to me many moons ago.

Something far different from the typical occurrence involving the supernatural.

I’m a long time paranormal investigator dating all the way back to the late 1980’s when I saw my great grandmothers full-bodied apparition appear to me (clear as day) right in front of me in the room she had passed away in years prior.

My methods of investigating have changed drastically over the years. I used to be very “Ghost Adventures” like; in your face, daring “Show yourself” type behavior… probably up through my late 20’s. Then I started taking a more respectable and sensible approach; it just sort of evolved naturally. I think mentally, it was less about proving the existence of life after death, I didn’t need that, I knew; it became more about helping the living as well as helping the dead.

Now, I’m not a medium, I do not talk with spirits (not in a communicative way at least). My problem is that I have to do very little to have an experience because spirits seek me out as I’m sensitive to their presence.

So let’s dive right in.

This has nothing to do with paranormal investigating.

My great uncle (coincidentally) the son of my great grandmother mentioned above, passed away at 39 years old from a massive heart attack. I was only 8 at the time, but we were very close.

I inherited this custom made medallion from him. It’s a mixture of gold. With Moses and the ten commandments on one side and the Star of David on the other. My grandmother bought a gold rope chain for it and gave it to me when I was 12 turning 13 years old. I never took it off.

Realistically (and it was usually to get the clasp fixed or a link soldered) I only took it off about half a dozen times in 10 years. I wore it everywhere, slept with it on, showered and swam with it etc.... it was a part of me.

It was also heavy. Ever have a piece of jewelry that you were so accustomed to wearing or its weight that if you took it off you felt naked? That’s what this was like. It dangled perfectly on my sternum. I had got into the habit of touching my chest throughout the day just to feel it there.

One evening (as we often did) my friend “Jeff” (aka: Habib from Open Diary’s “Habib’s Kosher Beaks”) came over to my apartment. We were headed to the gym at my complex and then going swimming. A typical routine.

For whatever reason this time my medallion was annoyingly getting in my way. If I was bench pressing, it was poking me in the shoulder. No matter the exercise, it just wouldn’t sit properly. Eventually, I got frustrated, took it off and because I’m right handed, I naturally put it in my right bathing suit pocket. We finished working out and went into the pool where we hung out until it closed.

As we were walking back to my apartment, I touched my chest… no medallion. I immediately started to freak out, then remembered that I had put it in my right pocket. I reached in there… no medallion. I knew I put it in my right pocket, not my left, but I checked both… nothing. I looked on the ground… nothing. I went back to the pool, but it was closed and dark outside. We couldn’t get back in. I knew I didn’t put it in my gym bag, but we hurriedly went back to my apartment to look in every crevice.

I took everything out, I told Habib to look through everything he had. I checked all the pockets, over and over and over again… I was panic stricken. Holy shit, my medallion is at the bottom of the pool or likely by now in the drain. Holy fucking shit!!!

I cursed how stupid I was.

I checked Habib’s bag, he checked mine. I kept shaking out the towels repeatedly. I took my suit off, shook that out. I’m just doing ridiculous things thinking it will fall to the floor magically or something. I kept checking my bag, but it was empty and pulled apart on my bed, clear as day… just a big gaping black hole.

After about a literal hour… I fell to my knees in the door frame to my bedroom, tears in my eyes. I was just about comatose; I could hardly move or talk. I heard Habib apologize and let himself out. Moments later I collapsed to the floor staring up at the ceiling.

I lay there, teary-eyed and in my head I just kept apologizing to my Uncle for being so stupid, an idiot and so careless; like a broken record, my heart bled out apology after apology. I hated myself, more so than usual. The most important thing in the world to me was gone. Something I was so attached to and kept so close for so long, I haphazardly and callously put in my pocket and forgot about.

G-D I fucking hated myself!!!

45 minutes or so go by, and I muster the strength to peel myself up off the floor ever so laggardly. Downtrodden and vacant, I walked over to my bed; I reached for my gym bag just to knock it to the floor so I could lie down and there (impossible to miss) was my medallion. It was just sitting there in the main pocket of my bag, the same bag I had tore open, shaked, rummaged through and emptied 2 dozen times that night. In a mathematical world… there was a zero percent chance that I didn’t see it. Habib had gone through that bag multiple times as well. It was not in there, it was impossible!!!

The medallion and chain were cold to the touch, but dry. Coiled and pristine. Like a shining beacon of light, the gold glimmered in the blackness of my gym bag.

I was speechless, but all I could do was look up, look around me and thank my Uncle whom presumably returned his medallion to me. I promised him that it would never happen again.

I don’t know how you guys classify a ‘miracle’, but to me this was proof that they exist (or can exist).

This event had such a profound effect on me that to this day (and we’re talking 20 years later) I haven’t put the medallion back on. I don’t deem myself worthy.

I know you’ll all say that I should, but I can’t. There’s a power (a metaphorical (if you will) power) attached to it, even before it’s reappearance that I’m not ready for or deserving of.

Also, of course the fear of losing it plays a pivotal role. I need to take it to a jeweler, replace the rope chain, the clasp etc… Gold wears quickly and I wore this A LOT! The day I do put it back on, I want to feel confident that it won’t break.

So for now, I know where it is and that gives me comfort. I can hold it, look at it and put it away. Just knowing that I have it and that it’s safe brings me comfort (however incomplete not wearing it makes me feel).

Last updated March 09, 2020