It was a wonky little office that was almost impossible to place a desk and two chairs. Nothing ever looked comfortable or balanced in this room. It was difficult to work in because of awkwardly placed poles, narrow spaces, and unnecessary hard walls. However it had a beautiful view of the Jemez Mountains through the high windows on one wall. Any view of the outdoors is always a welcomed extra for office workers. This was the room that was usually assigned to individuals from our group when they where contracted to work on a project from this particular site. I had a short meeting once in this office before with another co-worker in-situ, but Carla now occupied the space.
Carla was a true beauty. She was tall and moved like a graceful model. I never really liked any of her past boyfriends so when I found out she was available, I immediately fixed her up with someone who was very sweet. Guess what? It took!
Jack and Carla became a beautiful and sweet couple who really enjoyed each other. It’s at least one good thing that I feel I have done in my lifetime—and that was to bring them together. I’m a little bit proud of that.
During the Fall of 2000 that they both walked into my office during lunch hour one day. Carla was smiling from ear to ear.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you that I saw my first ghost,” said Carla. “But with everything that’s been going on I haven’t had a chance to mention it. Indeed, we had all suffered under the material (and scenic) losses of that year’s Cerro Grande Fire that burnt parts of Los Alamos. At last we were able to put some of these things behind us and find comfort in the familiar routine of our jobs.
I still find it amazing that we had a town to come back to—after the fire. If not for the amazing skills of the firefighters and others who helped, none of us would have had anything. Although Jack and Carla were living in Santa Fe at the time and I had no property damages—we all felt badly for those who had lost so much. Life was inwardly (and unexpectedly) traumatic and normal thinking functions became difficult for a time. I think that almost all Los Alamos citizens reevaluated their priorities in life—after the fire. We were all lucky that no lives were lost but after a horrendous event like a forest fire, huge numbers of “natural”deaths statistically sky rocket, due to various reasons. I lost my sister a month after the fire (she was only in her fifties) and my older neighbor passed away two months later. Some people just went to bed and then stayed there—crying, afraid to face the world for days at a time. Sometimes it seemed like misery came in non-ceasing waves. After a while sadness almost became a companion.
Fortunately, we had wonderful people at work and you couldn’t go shopping anywhere in town without someone asking if you were ok and “did you lose your house?”We were all walking around shell-shocked, but we all sort of had each other.
I always had this theory that if and when Armageddon hits, it will not be like a movie or television program where the boys with the most toys wins, or the extreme personalities who hide in underground bunkers eventually come out and conquer the world. No, I think (and I hope) it will be more like the care, generosity, and concern for each other that I experienced after the bad forest fires we’ve had. I don’t mean just Los Alamos, I mean people in Santa Fe, Española, Albuquerque, Glorieta . . . almost everyone in New Mexico reached out to us and offered us their homes to stay in, they feed us, and worried over us. How did I get so lucky to be in the middle of all of this?
“Where and when did you see a ghost?” I asked excitedly.
Jack was standing behind a now seated Carla, “Yeah, really,” he said, letting me know they were both very serious about the matter.
Carla said, “It was several months ago and I was in that weird little office—you know where you almost have to walk sideways and deal with the poles in the middle of the room. I was just finishing up a phone call when I saw someone come in and stand by my desk. I motioned to him that I would be right with him. My hair was hanging down on that side of my face, but I remember looking down at his shoes and thinking how nice they were and admiring the wonderful quality of the fabric of his pants. She said she hung up the phone and looked directly at him but he dissolved into nothingness right before her eyes. She said he was very tall, slender, and well dressed—but by the time she tried to look at his face, he had already dissolved from the waist up.
“I wonder if it could have been Robert Oppenheimer?” I said. I thought, “If the creator of this city were going to show themselves to anyone, it would probably be to a gorgeous girl like Carla, who also had a background in Physics.”
“I’m not sure about that.” Carla replied. “He seemed sort of young.”
“Did this happen before or after the Cerro Grande Fire? I asked.
“It happened right before the fire. As a matter of fact he was just standing there looking out the window at the trees. Actually right where the worst burning occurred . . . now that you mention it,” she said thoughtfully.
I said, “Sometimes before a tragedy strikes a community, a supernatural warning is sent. Maybe Oppie was trying to tell us something? I know you think it wasn’t Oppenheimer but everyone in those days dressed so nicely and they wore a lot of fine wool. All the photos I’ve seen of Oppenheimer show him dressed just like you describe.”
Eventually I also remembered that when people see ghosts of loved ones, the ghosts usually look to be about thirty years old. A time when we might be at our best. Unless it is a child ghost, the spirit represents the very best time of our self, on the very best day, and when we are most attractive. Most physical abnormalities are nonexistent; any limps, scars, or physical problems in life do not apply to the ghost.
I thought a bit and asked, “How old is that building where your office is located?”
There was a little flurry of discussion among us and we came to the conclusion that it was most probably built long after Oppenheimer left Los Alamos. However, a warning might still be a warning—no matter what location it chooses to show itself.
It may not have been Oppenheimer, but I am sure it was some entity concerned about the impeding disaster. I’m sure it was some caring soul who was proud of their work at the Lab and had sympathy for the community.
I really don’t know if anyone else had any such experiences—since this might also help to confirm an concerted effort to get a message across.
Oddly, several people began to ask odd questions of me during August of 2001. One woman pulled me aside and told me that she was never psychic or anything but she kept waking up at 11:11, or every time she opened a page it would be 11, or everything she counted kept coming up exactly 11, 110, or 1111. I explained the number 11 in numerology terms—as best I knew but it didn’t seem to satisfy her—or me.
Then the attack on 9/11 happened. A few days after the tragedy, I poked my head into her office.
I said, “Well, I guess we now both know what those 11s were all about.”
She looked up at me and I could see the understanding suddenly hit her in the face. I could see her suddenly finding the symbolism in the day (9/11), the shape of the two buildings (11), adding up the digits of 11 (1+1 = 2, 2 + 9 = 11), etc. I quietly closed her door and went back to work.
Another co-worker told me her son had a dream in which he looked in the mirror but he didn’t see his own reflection, he saw the image of Ben Laden—turban and all. He didn’t know who the man with turban was until after 9/11. He recognized him immediately following all the broadcasts of Osama bin Laden’s image.
I really don’t know a lot of psychics but the ones I spoke with had no forewarning or unexplained phenomena happen to them regarding 9/11. Yet the messages were sent out—but only to the least expected.
In this case, everyone missed any clues or hints sent from the Great Beyond.
Sensitive individuals have supernatural experiences and forewarnings, while skeptics call their otherworldly knowledge—hunches.
—Raven DeVille
