Echoes of a Haunting - Revisited Page 20

  I watch in amazement and, unfortunately, at a distance, as events once again swirl around the house. Activities there once again raise my hopes that a research foundation will take the place over and find out why the house is so troubled. Is it haunted? Is it in the center of a vortex? Is it affected by the visitation of UFO’s? Is it in a “Bermuda Triangle” and doomed by its proximity to ley lines? Is it reflecting the violent events of the past? I just don’t know.

  At one point when we lived in San Jose, I went to a meeting of a psychic group that met in town. It was headed by a psychic, Sylvia B, who is famous now. When it came time for me to ask a question, I said, “What happened at the house?” That’s all I said.

  She answered, “You mean as to the fact it was haunted?” I said yes rather sheepishly. I guess she had given me my answer.

  Then I said, “What happened to the picture?”

  At first she said, “I don’t know.” but then she corrected herself and said, “It’s in a metal box.” but she gave no location. So if you have a metal box please check it for a picture of a possible ghost. We were allowed only two questions so I couldn’t follow up. For anyone who’s interested, I will explain what I meant in the first epilogue when I spoke of straining people’s credulity. If you’re not interested or I’ve pushed your trust in me too far, you can stop reading now. When I worked in Santa Clara, a couple of my co-workers asked me to go to a local college for a lecture by a psychic. He was supposed to be able to do group regressions. I was very skeptical but it sounded like fun so I went. We drove to the college in June’s very nicely equipped van and were even able to have lunch at the table inside. Eunice was a little apprehensive about the “regression” while I was merely dismissive. June was fascinated. I regret to say, I’ve forgotten the psychic’s name. At any rate, he told us to relax, close our eyes and try to let our minds wander as he named different walks of life. Supposedly, we were supposed to pick up any that had pertained to us in our past lives. Dutifully, I closed my eyes but expected nothing to happen. Wrong again! I should have learned by now not to jump to conclusions.

  He mentioned soldier. Suddenly, in my mind, I was somewhere else. Not a soldier but a little boy aboard a ship. I could see what appeared to be tongue-in-groove flooring underneath me, highly polished. I sat behind what must have been a bulkhead and I was terrified. There was fighting going on all around me. I could see blood staining the floor and I knew the ship would sink and I would drown. Is this where my fear of deep water comes from? Though the man was naming different life styles, I seemed to be free-floating. I was a young girl, barefoot, sitting at the foot of a slanting wall. Up high was a small, barred window. The door opened and a man walked in. All I could see was his silhouette. His face was hidden by a cowl. It was the exact same silhouette both Phil and I had seen in our bedroom in Hinsdale one night. The room was dark yet the silhouette was darker than dark. The Inquisition? Again, I knew I was going to die. Then, without warning I was a young girl with long skirts racing across a field toward a house in the distance. Someone was breathing heavily behind me. I assume I was running from him since I was scared to death. I remember slogging across a narrow stream, my feet sliding on the rocks and clambering up the other side. Was this the Hinsdale house? Did I have a relationship with the place a hundred years before? Are we drawn back to places we’d lived in before?

  A few years ago I was contacted by another St. Bonaventure graduate. He was now a professor at Texas Christian University and wanted to use my book as a textbook. I was flattered and I hope it helps students to understand things I probably never will. I’d love to take Tim B’s class myself but Texas is kind of a long commute.

  You see, it’s still going on. I get some answers but they only arouse more questions. Maybe I’ll never have the answers. Maybe I have to become a ghost myself before I do. If so, I think I’ll postpone it for a while. In the meantime ... pleasant dreams, hmm?