My Strange Paranormal Life: Diary of a Witch

Copyright © 2021 Charlyn Scheffelman (Lady Nytewind).

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ISBN: 978-1-9822-6403-1 (sc)

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Balboa Press rev. date: 02/12/2021

I

dedicate this book to my wonderful Daughter

Did I ever tell you how you came to be?

It was your dad, it wasn’t just me.

Kisses exchanged, passion arose,

He began to ditch his clothes.

I thought he was kidding, just playing around

But he was serious, I suddenly shockingly found.

No, wait just a minute! Stop! I pled

He wouldn’t listen and forged right ahead.

If we’re going to have that daughter, he

said Now’s the time, (for me to be bred.)

I’m so glad now, that he said what he did

Because you mightn’t have been my kid.

I can’t imagine a life without you

You’re in my thoughts the whole day through.

We’ve done, together, so many things

Summers and falls, winters and springs.

Disneyland, and Disney world, too

I always have fun if I’m with you.

We went to college and got our degrees;

Taught school together, (though that was no breeze).

You danced in my classes, we cleaned houses, too.

I know that I’ve had many lifetimes with you.

You gave me a grandson, who’s really just great,

Smart, kind and thoughtful, our handsome Nate.

You make time to spend with your aging mother,

Something I lack from your Christian brother.

To sum up the way I feel about you

Is something I find impossible to do.

If you were not here with me in this life

It would not be worth the trouble and strife.

I LOVE YOU!

My Strange Life: Diary of a Witch

By Lady Nytewind

I begin to set down in words some of the strange things that have happened in my life. I do this partly because I hope what I have experienced and learned may be of use to others, and partly with the intention of releasing other hidden memories or thoughts I harbor within my own subconscious—probably from previous lives. Yes, I believe in reincarnation – mostly because I remember, but also because I have met many others who remember lives they have lived in other bodies, places, and times.

I’m adding a disclaimer. This is my truth and is about me. I know what I know through my experiences, so all opinions, explanations and statements of fact or theory are mine alone. Your truth may be entirely different! (Names have been changed to protect the innocent!)

CONTENTS

Chapter 1:   Childhood Memories

Chapter 2:   Childhood Paranormal Events

Chapter 3:   Astrology and the Paranormal

Chapter 4:   A Variety of Psychic Experiences

Chapter 5:   Are We Alone? Of Course Not!

Chapter 6:   Hatshepsut and My Lives in Egypt

Chapter 7:   Ghosts and Ghost Busters

Chapter 8:   Raisin Pie

Chapter 9:   The Plot Thickens

Chapter 10:   Lessons Learned and Impossible incidents

Chapter 11:   Death and Other Dimensions

Chapter 12:   Maybe We’re Born That Way

Chapter 13:   Guides and Goddesses

Chapter 14:   Alchemy, Other Projects, and Growing Old

Chapter 15:   At Deaths Door

CHAPTER ONE

Childhood Memories

I was born in Illinois and spent my first three years there. Sitting in a high chair at the dinner table is one of my earliest memories. My mother could be quite a nag, and she was nagging my father about something, as usual. He was spooning mashed potatoes onto his plate when he suddenly slung a spoonful of potatoes right into her face! I was completely surprised, as my father, a man of great patience, never at any other time I can recall, physically confronted my mother. He was a great dad and had to be completely pushed to his limit in order to show anger at all. I feel I have been fortunate to have had great men in my life; my father and both husbands.

I relate this not because of what happened then, but to point out that even babes in highchairs remember significant events; in fact, the soul is in contact with the fetus long before birth: sometimes even before the pregnancy occurs. Many astrologers believe as I do; that the soul enters the baby when the baby draws its first breath outside the womb. This planetary input seems to influence who we are; our talents, out tastes, our temperament, and our destiny.

Some things from our early childhood we consciously remember, but all memories are stored in the subconscious, and everything that happens, everything that is seen, heard, or felt thereafter influences our behavior.

Some of my other memories include the day I was roller skating on the sidewalk. I think I was about three or four years old at the time. I fell, and I was about to cry when my father came by and said we were going to buy a car. That was so exciting that I forgot about crying and put my hand in his. That car was a 1940-something Plymouth, the first car we ever had.

I also remember sitting on the floor as a small child, playing with my toys when my parents told me we were going to move. We moved to another Midwestern state, into a small house at the edge of a small town, practically in the country. I remember following my older brother around when he was seven (I was two and a half years younger). He taught me to crumble up dried leaves and to roll them up in a green leaf, which we would try to light and smoke. In those times nearly every adult smoked cigarettes, unaware of the health dangers that smoking causes, though it certainly caught up with them later in life.

We caught honey bees and held them in our hands until they stung us. This was a test of bravery, and I never cried. I think my brother had a previous lifetime as an American Indian or a mountain man. He was always drawing Indian battles when he was young, and he excelled at Boy Scouts, eventually becoming an Eagle Scout. Tests of bravery were always important to him. I did not know that the bees would die after stinging me at the time, or I probably would not have accepted the challenge.

I have always had a special place in my heart for animals, no matter what kind. I felt sorry for the mice that got caught in mom’s traps, and if they weren’t dead, I made nests of grass for them and gave them rides in my wagon.

When I was four, my parents gave me a baby duck for Easter. I loved my duck very much, but when I realized the bird on the table at Thanksgiving was my pet, I was inconsolable!

No one ate that duck because of my wailing tears. I could not understand how my parents could have killed my pet duck, or how they could expect me, or anyone else, to eat it! I do realize now that this was the way of people who grew up raising their own food, but this was the only animal I had, my pet, and it was mine to love and care for. I expected it to live with me forever. Needless to say, I was heartbroken.

Dear Duck

Little girl crying in the hall

Can’t make sense of this world at all.

Cruel things happen to beloved pets

That’s about as bad as it gets.

Why, oh why do they have to die?

Beautiful creatures that run, crawl or fly?

I don’t understand; don’t know where to start.

Are humans really so hard of heart?

Helpless creatures endure hunger and pain

What would humanity have to gain?

They have minds, souls, and love just like me

Why are they objects of cruelty?

Why do animals have to suffer and die?

Why, oh why, doesn’t everyone cry?

I remember having my very infected tonsils removed at the age of four also, having been sick many times from the infection. My mother always told me that I was so infected that pus came through the skin of my stomach. Is this even possible? I don’t know.

I had nightmares, too, in which skeletons would chase me while arguing with each other about who had the most meat left on their bones. And there was a recurring dream in which my brother and I were in an unfamiliar, bare room. The only furniture in the room was one wooden chair. Somehow we knew something bad was about to enter the room, so we took turns standing on the chair. The something bad was a ferocious lion. When it came into the room, it was always preceded by a large bouncing ball that went bounce, bounce bouncing down the stairs. I would wake up, never to know what the lion intended.

The doctor said my mind was too active and that I needed to go to school to give my brain something to do, so I was enrolled in kindergarten three months before my fifth birthday. This meant I was always the youngest kid in my elementary school classes.

During my kindergarten year, the things that stand out in my memory were how much I loved my teacher, that we had nap time after lunch, and that I was embarrassed because I was the last one in the class to place my bow on the chart to show I could tie my shoes. I could tie my shoes with no problem, but I had trouble tying a single ribbon into a bow for the chart!

But the main memory of this kindergarten year is that I contracted rheumatic fever and spent eleven weeks confined to bed, not even allowed to sit up or get out of bed to use the bathroom. Some kind person gave me a catalogue on which every single page had been pasted solid with pictures of all kinds; real pictures of people, animals, scenery, cartoons; just about anything that could be clipped from other magazines. This book was my main source of entertainment. I could, and did, look at it for hours on end; but the hardest part about being sick was watching my brother and friends play outside in the snow and being unable to join them.

Being confined as I was, seemed to have been the right treatment for this disease, though, as I had very little heart damage from it. Later in life I met a woman whose doctor prescribed walking as much as possible during her bout with rheumatic fever, and she was left with severe heart damage.

A young man I used to visit who worked in the café across from my father’s jewelry store gave me a huge purple orchid corsage because I was so sick. The world was safe then, and I was used to visiting many of the other shop owners and workers on Main Street while my parents were working in their jewelry store.

Recovering from Rheumatic Fever

A photographer, who thought that my brother and I were good subjects, took many pictures of us. Though I was born blonde with brown eyes, my hair turned dark and curly by the time I was five. I was very small for my age. In fact, my parents said that they took me to a doctor to see if I was a midget! I was walking down the street one day, holding my mother’s hand, when a woman came up to us and said that I was very cute. She wondered if I could talk. I was mortified! I was in first grade! A few years later, I received a Saucy Walker doll for Christmas. She was twenty-two inches tall and the dress I started school in fit her perfectly.

I was seriously sick many times in my childhood. For ten years, from the age of three to thirteen I had severe stomach aches and quite a few hospital stays. They thought perhaps it was migraine stomach aches (the only time I’ve ever heard that diagnosis) but of course that was wrong. Finally one night my parents asked me if I thought they should take me to the hospital and I said yes, but after I got there, I no longer felt sick at all and felt quite guilty for putting everyone to all that trouble and expense.

I had IV’s in each arm and each leg and was feeling no pain at all when a wonderful old doctor and friend of the family told my parent they must take me to a larger hospital or I would die. They found that I had a bowel obstruction but still did not know the cause of my original pain.

Once over this bout, when I had regained my strength, the doctors performed an exploratory surgery that revealed that the source of the problem had been undiagnosed appendicitis all along. Some times I wonder, since I know now how one’s mind can influence one’s health, if I was sick so often because it was the only time my mother seemed to like me.

Or perhaps I regretted the decision to reincarnate again and wanted to back out. While mother was carrying me, I tried to abort but they gave her what she called a stay-the-birth shot. I’ve been very healthy since, until as an adult in my 70’s.

Christmas Fire

On Christmas Eve when I was six, there