Do You Believe?
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.