My Wife and I had adopted a grayhound from our local race track many years ago. From the first day we brought him into our home, he was a well-behaved, loving dog. The only problem we had with him was his flat refusal to not get off the couch. We fought daily for a spot on the couch, but Kramer won out every time. Kramer would climb up on the couch and before you knew it, you were hanging onto the side of the couch to keep from falling on the floor.
Kramer had died one day in June of 2005. Early the next morning, I was sitting on just the edge of the couch. My full attention was on the TV, the morning news. There was a segment on about somebody I had known from my past.
I remember the couch cushion sinking in behind me, and I started to roll backward and into the couch. I kinda snarled to myself, thinking, Dang, Kramer. I am trying to watch this.
I pulled myself forward by the arm of the couch. The segment ended and then it hit me: Kramer is gone. He is dead. He couldn't have crawled behind me on the couch. He couldn't have made the cushion sink in.
I jumped up and spun around, looking at the couch. It was empty. I almost wanted to laugh. Wow. Kramer is still hogging the couch even after his death. I know what I felt and I know the cushion had enough pressure to cause my body to roll backward into it. I never experienced anything again after that morning.