I Am Not Sure What I Am

I just know that I can see, feel, hear and smell things that other people can't. Since childhood. I first realized it when my Dad and I went hunting deer, for out winter larder. We only did this once a season. (Back in the 60's) The meat was needed, and so was the hide.

Anyway, My dad saw a young buck, shot at him and thought he missed. We went over to where he saw it, and nothing was there, for him to see.

What I saw was blood pooled and a trail going off to the right. I pointed and said to Dad "You got him. There's the blood. He ran off that way."

I was pointing at the pool of blood. He was looking, but saw nothing.

There are other things as well:

Since then, I have smelled things I shouldn't know of, like an ancient stable. I could smell all the scents that came from it, much different than stables today. I know today's scents as I have had many horses throughout my life. This was a lot heavier, in a much older way.

I could close my eyes, and like a fully visible memory, I could see the place. I still can, as if I was there yesterday. With open eyes, or closed. Like a real recent thought rather than an old memory.Actually,being an artist, I should paint it. I hadn't thought of that.

I can see the stable opening. No doors. Just the wide front opening. There are four stalls, each filled high with partly dirty straw, with one horse in the stall nearest me. It's a chubby dirty white working animal. Like an English buttercup.

There's only subdued lighting, no lanterns lit, but they are there. It gets darker toward the back, where there are piles of hay,etc.Harnesses are hanging around on the stall fencing. There is a rather stocky older man mucking out the area. I can smell everything. The saddle oil, the filth he is trying to clean up, even his personal smell. Typical of any man of the time, I believe.

I don't know if the Stable worker is aware of my presence, I just stand there, in the shadows, kind of. I seem to know how to work,repair,all things horse.

There are so many more things I know that I shouldn't. How to hook up traces and harnesses, or how to tend a wound that needs stitching.Etc.

Sometimes it gets to me, wondering what it is I am a part of. The things I experience seem to be from around the same time period, late 1700s-early 1800s-ish.

The knowledge is so strong that I am sure if put in any of the situations during that time, I would know what to do.