The Taste of Blood: A Ghost Story

While traveling across the country with my companion, W, in our van, named the Astral Elephant, we decided to pull over one night and find a place to sleep. Not being fond of sleeping in the crowded van, we tended to just put down sleeping bags, or a tent, and we enjoyed our lifestyle immensely. I was making my living doing healing work, spiritual teaching and transmissions, and the occasional deposession. I had encountered a few real live ghost stories along the way. W had become my aid in this business, and developed a sensitivity to subtle energies in the process.

We looked off to the side of the dark road as we drove along, and finally we found the perfect place to stop for the night. There was an easy place to pull off, a bit of dirty, worn down gravel providing a good parking spot. There was a flat area of concrete which was overgrown a bit, but not as overgrown as the surrounding areas that would have been our bed otherwise. We were tired, and ready to rest right away. We didn't think about why there was a flat, hard spot there. No one lived around there, and so we knew we wouldn't be bothering anyone.

We went to sleep, and suddenly W woke up with a scream. He couldn't explain it, but he felt as if he were almost someone else. And that person was not happy. W could hardly talk, because he kept feeling as if his mouth were filling up with blood. He could taste it very strongly, but there was nothing there. The feeling persisted, so it wasn't just from an unremembered dream. He was panicking.

We realized why there was concrete there. It was the foundation of a house long ago demolished. We were sleeping in a ghost's bed.