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Old 01-22-2013, 07:55 PM
 
25 posts, read 25,989 times
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My aunt and uncle were an unlikely couple, she being 6 feet tall and he 5’6”. She was a Texan and a Baptist born from a lineage of Scotch, Irish, English and Cherokee and he of an Italian, Catholic family. They met while he was in the U.S. Cavalry during WW1 and married before he was sent overseas to return to native soil four months later after exposure to a mustard gas attack. They settled in Brooklyn, NY in the early 1920s and bought a plot of land on Long Island which was rural at that time and started to build a bungalow in 1930.

Summer 1934: I apprehensively sat in the passenger seat of my uncle’s pick-up truck with a carton of foodstuff in the back, donated by my mother for my summer stay. it was agreed by my mother and aunt that my cousin Bobby, a year younger than my seven years would benefit having a playmate and I from the fresh countrified air.. As the forty mile drive progressed, the tenement buildings of my section of Brooklyn dissolved into one family homes and then gave way to wooded acreage, meadows and farms. The air was crisp and cool, unlike the sweltering pavements back home.

We entered through the kitchen which had a dirt floor and a sink with a hand pump, The living room and two small bedrooms had wooden floors but here was no bathroom in sight which explained the small wooden structure with a moon crescent cut on the door. Beside my aunt and Bobby, I was greeted by my cousin Pauline, who was eight and my cousin Peter who was twelve. Their sister Helen married at age sixteen and now lives in New Jersey. During our drive I delighted in the feeling of expansiveness the countryside provided and now, suddenly I felt stifled by the close quarters and number of persons. I longed to be back home.

The weeks went by and I became adjusted to my new surroundings. I wore only a pair of shorts and walked barefoot each day which initially was painful but devoid of feeling after a thick layer of callous formed. My skin tanned and my brown hair lightened and I felt myself getting stronger each day. My time was spent fishing, crabbing, blueberry and blackberry picking, and sickle pears and hazel nuts, all growing wild and plentiful. Then there was swimming and tree climbing and helping my uncle build a garage connected to the living quarters and my aunt with her gardening. I enjoyed listening to her soft voiced southern drawl and the biblical stories she would tell and the company of my uncle and his guidance on many of our adventures. Peter was seldom within sight, spending most of his time on his school’s baseball field or just hanging out with friends. As for Bobby, well he was OK sometimes, but most of the time he was a pest and had to grow up! I loved being so close to nature and dreaded the approaching end of my summer stay. I felt I was the luckiest kid in the world, until…

My aunt and uncle told the three of us one morning that they were going to a nearby town for a doctor’s appointment and to do some shopping, and to keep out of trouble until their return in the late afternoon. It wasn’t long after their departure that Pauline joined by Bobby suggested we play “doctor”. I wasn’t too sure what that implied, but it felt like something their parents would frown upon and I didn’t want to jeopardize my stay there. So I refused and they started to taunt me by calling me “city slicker, fraidy cat, sissy” until I gave in. In my naivete, I was unfamiliar with the gender differences but found when I was the examining doctor, a preference to have Pauline as my patient. Remembering my aunt’s words, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of guilt, but this was somewhat offset with a feeling of warmth and fondness that was generated between Pauline and myself. Bobby’s presence felt intrusive and we managed to escape his presence and wander hand in hand through a meadow that led us to a highway with a candy store where we combined our pennies and split an ice cream cone. We wandered leisurely until we realized it was close to dinner time and my aunt and uncle must have returned.

My uncle was seated at the kitchen table with his dinner before him, across from Bobby. My aunt was out of sight in the living room and called Pauline into the room. I heard a loud smack and my aunt screaming at Pauline, calling her a tramp and other unsuitable words. Then I heard what sounded like the repeated pounding of flesh, catching the rising and falling of a wooden clothes hanger upon Pauline which I perceived through the doorway, although I couldn ’t see either Pauline or her mother. The painful crying muffled by my aunt’s profane damnation, was unbearable. I wanted to go to Pauline’s aid, but knew I mustn’t dare and could only hold back my tears, as I looked at my uncle who looked down at his plate and made no effort to interfere. Bobby, meanwhile seemed unperturbed as he ate his food.

Summers 1935-1941: My summer stays continued on Long Island. I was considered part of the summertime family. The kitchen floor had been installed along with a bathroom in the garage and faucets replacing the kitchen sink hand pump. Pauline grew more beautiful each year with golden hair and light blue eyes and a sensuous mouth. I noticed her body becoming more womanly with each visit. My love for her kept growing but we avoided any communication that went beyond “please pass the potatoes” or talk of the weather. I was constantly attuned to her presence, watching her graceful movements and listening to her melodious singing as she washed and dried after meals. I would have loved to join her in her chores, but knew that was verbatim. By the summer of 41, her beauty was precociously in full blossom, beyond her 15 years and more like that of a twenty year old beauty contestant. My love for her remained silent and carried on long after my last stay that year.

Summer 1971: A month before my plan to attend a conference of psychotherapists in Pawling, NY, I confided to a friend who is a psychoanalyst a dream that left me baffled. While I don’t remember the substance of the dream, at its end there was total darkness broken by a male’s hollow voice stating, “Heed the two Pawlings” The pronouncement was unclear as to whether it was” Pawling” or “Pauline”. My friend stated” that sounds ominous, let’s see if it has any significance when we go to the conference.”( I am not a practicing analyst but have been avocationally involved with encounter groups and conventions to enhance my teaching of public speaking and communication.)

The conference broke for lunch and its 100 members congregated in the dining room. I wasn’t hungry and went outside for a smoke. Sitting on a nearby bench was a young woman of about twenty five, poised with an unlit cigarette halfway to her mouth. I said “hi!”, and she asked me for a light. I introduced myself saying my name is Peter. She replied,” I can see that on your name tag!” I chuckled and looked at her name tag, saying,” and you are…” I paused as I read her name “..Pauline! “

Her hair was not blond nor was she beautiful, but she emanated warmth with a kind, accepting smile. I told her of my dream and spoke of the coincidence of our meeting. She mentioned that she is a post grad student of psychology, married and this was her first convention experience, which she found illuminating and impressive with meeting so many individuals in the various branches of psychology, some of whom are well known researchers in the field. I asked her if she would like to take a walk and she agreed.

As we walked through the pastoral environs in silence, she took my arm and she recited my thoughts as we ambled along. I was mystified as she read my mind, as my thought were beyond my external observations. She explained that she had this gift since childhood and this is what drew her to her studies in psychology. I had never felt so comfortable with another person on such short meeting. She held my hand as we paused on a short wooden bridge that spanned a narrow stream. As we stared into the passing waters, a boy about seven dismounted at the bridge’s edge, he stooped to grab a handful of torn grass which he tossed into the water and quickly crossed to the opposite side to swatch the grass carried away by the current. He repeated this about three times ignoring our presence. The incident had a dream like quality. Without a word, he walked to his bike and rode off.

We sat on a bench in this park setting and embraced with a long soulful kiss. There was no guilt regarding our spouses, nor was there sexual arousal, just an enjoinment of our spirits. We returned to the convention hall, knowing there were just a few hours left in the last day of the meeting. We sat close together in a workshop, holding hands and exchanging embraces. The meeting was over and we said our goodbyes. She wept at our leaving, there was no exchange of telephone numbers. We live in different states and knew we’ll not meet again, but always carry each other’s spirit.

Summer 1979: Bobby had moved to Long Island from Connecticut and invited me to the wedding of his second marriage. At the reception, I saw Pauline whom I hadn’t seen in thirty eight years. Her beauty still remained though faded and her face was etched with suffering stemming from what appeared to be advanced arthritis. She was sitting at a small table with her husband, who rose and disappeared from sight. I walked over and she greeted me saying that Bobby mentioned that I would like to speak with her. She stated,” I think I know what you would like to talk about. I recently spoke with my sister Helen whom was familiar with our childhood incident and mentioned that I was concerned that witnessing my beating left indelible scars on your life. As bad as that beating was, I was inured to the pain as it was one of many that I experienced from my mother. Helen had been a victim also, that was why she married so young, to get away from my mother. When Helen left, I became the victim. Oddly, she never touched my brothers. I think she was acting-out something from her own abused childhood. But leaving three young children alone was inexcusable. We were only babies.” She appeared fidgety and then she said, ”My husband will be back shortly.” I took this as my cue to leave, realizing that she didn’t want to introduce me to her husband and that the “incident” will always remain our secret. This is what led me to my interest in psychology.

Last edited by serenic; 01-22-2013 at 08:00 PM.. Reason: duplication of title
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Old 01-24-2013, 08:27 PM
Status: "Worried about our country." (set 27 days ago)
 
Location: Brooklyn,NY
11,544 posts, read 14,574,205 times
Reputation: 17898
Story has 3 interesting coincidences, the meeting with the Pauline from when you were older seemed to carry the feelings and memories of the time spent with your summer love interest. Its like the phenomenon of soul mates who cross paths once only. Your experiences drove you to study and further your psychology studies.

Did you ever encounter either Pauline again or something related to your experience with the Pauline from your adulthood?
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Old 01-25-2013, 10:10 AM
 
25 posts, read 25,989 times
Reputation: 109
Hi Scott,

I never had any contact with either Pauline, other than I was recently notified of my cousin Pauline's death. I believe it was this sad news that allowed me the license to post my story publicly, and a cathartic need to bring resolution to a matter that plagued me throughout my years. I feel fortunate that I came across this message board as it gave me the opportunity to put into print and objectify my "secrets" with therapeutic release.

I have had three precognitive dreams in my earlier years, one appears on this board under the title, "Before my last breath." There were others that are questionable and more likely are just coincidental. The third precognitive dream may be posted at a later date.

It was only after reading my own posts that a significant insight was gained, and that was a realization that the precognitions included women with psychic abilities. In "Before my last breath," the daughter of my hospital roommate, immediately interpreted my "dream" without my asking any questions and validated the hallucinatory points I noted about her father. Her readiness and exacting interpretation can only come forth from a person with psychic ability or understanding. There was also the factor of her mother's death in the nearby hospital room.

I mentioned a third precognitive dream I might consider posting, which also included a woman with psychic ability. While I am not one to place much credibility on spiritism I have to question the relationship in these dreams and the manifestation of meeting psychically gifted women.
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