My girlfriend and I were watching Celebrity Ghost Stories last night. She wondered if any of these stories were true. I looked at her aghast, reminding her of my own experiences.
I have seen ghosts. And I’ve had some pretty close encounters with them, including two incidences that others have witnessed, too. But I’ll get around to them in due time.
When I was a little kid, I think around 8, my family went on vacation on the Oregon Coast. We would spend a week there at Surftides in Lincoln City. During our stay we would make our way down the coast, stopping at kitschy tourist shops in Depot Bay, driving go-carts, eating at the Pixie Kitchen and explore the coastline.
One of our stops was an old mansion that had never been finished. It was a spooky place, even in daytime. There were gaping holes in the floor where you could drop three stories into the basement. My father, not being one to teach us important lessons about life and the law, thought we should explore it. So we did a little trespassing.
It was so cool as a kid to wander through it. My three older brothers, of course, liked to scare me, jumping out of a dark corner of the mansion now and then. When we were through, we headed back to the car. It was then that I saw my first ghost.
I was the last one out to the car. As I walked, I felt as if someone was behind me. I thought it was a sibling, trying to scare me again. I turned. And there, following me was a gray haired and mustached man. He was wearing a white nightshirt and had a matching cap on his head. He was, slightly hunched over, carrying a candle in a brass candleholder. He was just following me. No biggy.
When I got to the car, I asked my dad who the guy was. He said, “There was no one behind you son.”
I knew he was very real. But I didn’t freak out about it. I still don’t. And it’s happened many times since.
I had experienced other visits off and on throughout my childhood. When my brother died when I was 14, I knew he returned one night. I could feel his presence in the corner of my bedroom. And of course, my dog was going nuts, barking at the same spot. I just figured he was checking in on me.
Fast forward to college. My now ex and I were babysitting and housesitting for her boss. Their house was in the University District area. One night, the two little girls just wouldn’t settle down. I kept hearing the pitter and patter of running feet up and down the second story hall. I would go up and put them to bed. Finally, all quiet. About an hour later, I hear the damned pitter patter again.
This time I snuck up the stairs very quietly, ready to catch them in the act. As I reached the top of the stairs, to my astonishment, there was no one there. But I could still hear the sound of feet running up and down it. When my ex’s boss returned, he admitted that happened often but didn’t want to tell us before hand because he didn’t want to cancel their vacation.
My experiences shifted to more intense episodes years down the road. For several years, I would be visited by people in my sleep. I would suddenly end up speaking Russian or some other Slavic language. I could hear myself doing it, but I couldn’t move. My bedmate would hear it, too. Initially they were fascinated; eventually they would become perturbed. The Russian guy was pretty loud. He was far better than the angry Chinese guy, however.
Five years ago, he visited. It freaked my ex out. She finally woke me violently to get Chinese guy to leave. At that point the Chinese guy jumped into the dog sleeping next to me on the floor. I know, I couldn’t believe it either. In a moment’s time he went from deeply sound asleep to growling and baring his teeth. We’re talking about a beagle here. I knew his every sleep pattern, but this one was new. I quickly woke him up and Chinese guy left.
These episodes never scare me. I’m pretty used to them. The coolest one occurred one year in Key West. We were encamped in the fort down there, Fort Taylor. It was a civil war fort and though no one died there during the war, hundreds died of yellow fever, including the soldiers and many people imprisoned there.
The sun had come up. It was another warm day. But I could feel a really cold spot next to me. And no, it wasn’t my ex. I recognized the cold spot and welcomed it in.
Suddenly, I was freezing. I was shivering and sweating at the same time. I couldn’t talk. I could only mumble as if I was sick with a bad flu. And then I knew that that was indeed what was happening. Not to me, but to the spirit. I knew that he was a soldier who had been sick there with yellow fever. I was feeling the flu that had gripped him. It was both freaky and cool at the same time.
Mind you, I was wide awake during this. And I know it wasn’t a dream because two of my friends were awoken by this experience. The spirit was gone in a moment or two.
But someone else was waiting. I thought sick guy had returned, but it was another entity. This time, a Native American. Suddenly I was speaking what sounded to me as a fluent Native American tongue. I mentioned it over breakfast and one of my friends said, “Oh, yeah, I heard that. I was wondering what the hell was happening and what you were doing.”
Well, I wasn’t doing anything. I just seem to channel these things occasionally. As I said, I don’t really think much of it. I do, however, yell foul a lot when these ghost hunter shows are on TV. Some of their experiences are pretty hokey and they run off like scared rabbits. I guess it makes good television, but I don’t really fall for the theatrics. I’ve been there. And I think that’s a pretty cool gift to be given.
I only worry that one day though that I’ll get a bill in the mail for all the overseas/otherworldly calls I keep getting. I know it’s going to be a real doozy.
On the Treasure Coast, looking for wayward souls,
– Robb