Paranormal Story Archives
February 2002 – Page 25

The Visiting Monk
by Rachel H.

As a child, you're susceptible to imagine, create and sometimes project your thoughts into real effigies. I was a child that had many imaginary friends, and anything inanimate to me could become real with my imagination. This certain occasion was, however, not a figment of my imagination. It all started when I was about four years old. We lived in an old trailer, and I had to share a room with my two other sisters. My parents were already divorced, but arguing frequently about visitation rights.

Then "he" started to appear to me. I had trouble sleeping at night and would toss and turn and always end up at the end of the bed staring at my door and the light that emitted from the hall. One very restless night, I laid staring in the same spot when suddenly a little man about four feet tall dressed in a brown monks cloak, entered my room. He carried with him a small lute (I'm not sure how else to describe the item), and his face was hidden by the dark hood. He would stand at the foot of my bed and stare at me. I wasn't afraid, and I actually quite enjoyed his presence. He would then play me a beautiful melody (to this day I can still hum the odd tune) and it would send me sleeping within minutes. He visited me as often as three times a weak, or whenever I had trouble sleeping, all the way up to first grade and then he disappeared from my life. He helped my through tough times with my parents and then when things got better (my parents came to an agreement), he left. 

When I was 17, my mother and I were having one of our "little chats" when I decided that I would tell her about my monk friend. She looked surprised and pleased at the same time. She then began telling me about her incident with the monks that visited her. It was quite interesting to hear that her and I (and she even told me that her mother saw one too) shared similar experiences at different times.

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