Do You Believe?
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What
I am about to relay to you readers is totally 100% true and totally
unexplainable to a disciplined mind. I
would ask, as you read this, to accept it for what it is and direct any
questions to someone far above my level.
So, here goes.
I
went to bed after the 600 Sunday night and almost immediately fell into a
welcomed sleep. The 600 weekend had
always been a big event for me, having attended the very first one with my
Uncle Bobby and then continuing that habit through the years until even my
Mother and Daddy were going each year in our motor home. The many adventures experienced in that
infield over the years could, in and of themselves, make an interesting read
for anyone interested in such things. I
was not in attendance at the 600 this year, but my experience on that night,
the night before Memorial Day, is one I have waited three days for the nerve to
relay.
Way
back, in 1969, when I drove my very first race at Columbia Speedway, I got a
mention in the sports section of The State Newspaper before the next week's
race. My Daddy went out and bought an
extra newspaper that day so I could have a clipping and he wanted one to put in
his wallet. I dutifully placed my
clipping in a meager scrapbook I was starting and he folded his and tucked it in
the secret panel the old wallets once had. Through the years he would pull it out, most
times when there were many of us sitting around the motor home on race weekend,
but he always returned it to that secret compartment.
My
dreams Sunday night, as always, were so real it seemed as though they were
actually happened before my eyes, which should have been awake. I recall talking with my Mother and Daddy and
Uncle Bobby as if we had just returned from the infield of the 600. I remember the dream included the part where
my Daddy always pulled out that Newspaper clipping to show off the Leeming name
in the newspaper sports section. As much
fun as the dream was, and as real as it seemed, it was over as quickly as
dreams come and go although my dreams are known to last for a much longer time
than the "experts" claim dreams can last.
When
I awoke Monday morning, I sat on the edge of the bed a moment while my eyes
were seeking focus, as the cataract surgery I had in November causes a blurred
sensation when I first awake. As I stood
up, I noticed a folded yellowed news clipping in the middle of my dresser that
was not there when I went to bed. As I
unfolded it, I recognized the folds from the way my Daddy had kept it in his
wallet. My first thought was that Ann
had gotten the clipping from my scrap book for some reason but then I
remembered the clipping in my scrap book was glued in.
I
headed to my studio where I keep all of my racing memorabilia and retrieved my
sparse scrapbook from the shelf. I
turned to the page where I knew that clipping had been all the years since 1969
and unbelievably, there was MY clipping in the book. There I stood with the scrapbook on my desk
looking at the same article I held in my hand, folded by my Daddy and placed in
his wallet. At first an icy chill ran up
my spine and then my head just went into total bewilderment. Obviously something supernatural had happened
Sunday night while I slept and I had the proof right in my hand.
I
went back down the hall to tell Ann about it and while she humored me, she
could not explain how this happened. I
have always enjoyed shows and movies about supernatural happenings but I had no
explanation for this. So, since Monday
morning I have pondered whether or not to relay this story to anyone. I have finally decided, today, to share it
with you all. You may think me in need
of mental evaluation, or whatever, but let me assure you I do not consume
alcohol and neither do I smoke that funny weed.
What I am sharing with you actually happened. I am forwarding a picture to the Editor here
that shows both clippings, the one in the scrapbook and the one which had been
folded. Judge me as you will but I
promise you this is the total truth of the events of Sunday night.
Thanks
for reading and I hope we are still friends.