We can be haunted by many things: our past, our fears, failed relationships and missed opportunities to name but a few. We can also be haunted personally by a spirit or spirits, whether they be animal or human. In my work I saw many a spirit come into the room attached to the aura of the sitter. In regards to animals, dogs made up the largest percentage of attachments. I think one cat has made an appearance since 1992. Oh, and a horse but that was newly deceased and didn’t want to leave its owner. Some of you may think that I’m stretching the truth in this regard, nope a lovely horse. Thankfully it vanished. Dogs tended to hang around through the readings, lying down next to their owner. The horse gave off a strange feeling, almost a sense of neediness. The cat? Well cat owners, I’m sorry they don’t change, dead or alive it’s all about them. Dogs retain their personalities and want to stay close and be patted. So if you’ve felt the bed bounce at night after your beloved pet has passed over, then more than likely it’s Butch or Tiddles back for a visit.
People are oh so different. It isn’t always a loving spouse or relative hanging around. I’ve seen spirits that have latched on to the person since they were children. Happily wrapped in the aura and more often than not, making their host’s life bloody miserable. The host has felt a presence for years and has had disturbances in their homes over time. People who are sympathetic attract these spirits. You need to remember that when someone passes over tragically and quickly they can be unaware of their state of being. Afraid, lost, lonely they find themselves drawn to people and stick to them. If a client presented in this state then I would try to talk with the spirit and convince it to move on. People usually weren’t surprised when I made the observation, many would say they’d felt something odd going on for however long. How do you remove it? You do a daily regimen of white light protection, if you are of a religious bent then pray, or do both. The constant mental imagery of being showered by pure white light usually does the trick. Hmm, it’s like an ad for laundry detergent.
Eddy’s Place. Eddy is an old Mate of mine who I’ve known for 32 years, he follows this blog and I’m sure that he will make a comment. So if you want to test the veracity of this post ask Eddy. Due to circumstances beyond his control, Eddy found himself living in an old railway worker’s cottage, near the station at Bundamba. He pulled up at home one day on his bike and came in looking a tad glum. I gave him a cuppa and he sat down and said, “Laurie, I’m having some trouble at my new place.” – “Tell me more.” – “Every time I stick my groceries in the kitchen cupboard, I come back and they’re lined up. Then the girl who’s renting a room thinks I’m checking out her underwear draw and leaving her panties on the bed.” I stared at him and raised my eyebrows, “Nooo, I wouldn’t so that.” – “Just jerking your chain, I’ll come over.” – “Oh and whoever’s there has stuffed up my computer, it won’t work.”
The cottage, one of many built in the late 1800’s to house railway staff looked a little worse for wear. It backed up against the lines, where a vine covered wooden fence fought against old age and gravity. Eddy invited me in and put the kettle on, I always fancy a cuppa before work. He showed me the kitchen cupboard with their tins lined up alphabetically. Very un Eddy-like. Then his computer screen with it’s jumbled mess of letters etched on it. I must add here that while travelling to jobs like this I would always white light myself. So by the time I start I’m squeaky clean. Houses ‘talk’ to me. I stood in the lounge room, closed my eyes and listened. It’s like listening to static on a radio out in the country, when two or three other stations are trying to come through. You have to filter it out and listen to the strongest signal. The tiny, white haired, elderly lady came through quite clearly. She never said a word but impressed on me in no uncertain terms, that the people living in her house had to go. She did not want them there, couldn’t they see her? Yes, as far as she was concerned the lady thought she was still alive. No amount of dialogue on my part convinced her otherwise.
In cases like this I ask for whoever is there for the spirit to come forward and help them to move on. Nothing. I think she may have outlived a lot of people and steadfastly refused to acknowledge the facts, although I did feel another presence turn up. I left Eddy in the lounge and went to his room next. He’d told me about feeling uneasy in there most nights. So let’s have a look. Hmm, one hologram spirit. Basically an emotion that is etched into the building. This was a girl of about 11, dressed in clothing of the late Victorian era. Everything about her screamed death by disease, I felt that she’d had a respiratory ailment, sweated a lot and passed in great distress. In cases like this the spirit moves on, however the feelings and emotions brought about by the death stay behind. Nothing to be done there except for a cleansing ritual which Eddy could do. I favoured burning sage.
The room leased by the girl next. Her underwear lay neatly on the bedcovers, and the drawers were wide open. I took one step into the room and the spirit of a man in his early 20’s appeared. He didn’t seem to be ‘all there’ mentally. I don’t think he belonged to the house, I believe he came home from somewhere with the girl. I felt a little uncomfortable with him, a deep sense of perversion emanated from him. Not nasty but he gave the impression of being a peeping tom come panty sniffer. I felt quite strongly that he’d passed in a traffic accident. No dialogue here at all from him. I told him that he needed to go to the nice man standing in the corner, and that he’d take him home. Whoosh. Vanished.
“Is that all Eddy? I could do with another cuppa.” – “No, the spare room next, nobody wants to stay in it at all.” I’d like to say I have nerves of steel and that nothing bothers me. Pure, unadulterated evil bothers me. People popping up out of nowhere can startle you, objects moving of their own volition can make you go hmm. Standing in the middle of someone’s attempt to summon something dark in a cemetery can make your sphincter tighten. Eddy’s spare room was all of this rolled into one – and then some. I opened the door and walked in, the old, faded blind hung dejectedly at the dusty window, letting in a thin stream of light. A derelict bedframe, covered in cardboard boxes and junk sat against the wall. The carpet hadn’t been changed since 1910 by the look of it and the air felt heavy and oppressive. I’d shut the door and stood facing it with my back to the window. I’ve read the old horror books, especially those by H.P. Lovecraft, the master of all things ancient and terrible and thought that nothing would surprise me. Well it did.
There would be no ghostly emanations here, no sad voices, tales of woe or lost souls. Only a cold so harsh I thought I’d stepped into arctic ice, then the pain. A pain that lanced through my lower legs, I could feel huge claws go into the sides of my calves and rip down. I saw that they were attached to something coming out of the floor, and that something wanted me. I couldn’t move at first and when I did I bolted for the door, reefed it open, leapt out and slammed it shut behind me, “Righty oh Eddy, don’t let anybody sleep in there, Mate. How about that cuppa tea eh?”” What was it? Buggered if I know. Would I go in there again? No bloody way. I have had an insight into it sitting here typing this. Eddy and I sat out in the back kitchen with a cuppa and biscuits and yarned about the happenings. I couldn’t give him an answer to the spare room but I think I can now.
If you remember I mentioned in an earlier post that I do psychometry, reading an object by touch. Eddy brought the subject up and ( I may not forgive you for this ever, Mate🙂 ) handed me a thin piece of bone, “Here you go Laurie, see what you get off this.” Not thinking I grabbed the slender bone out of his hand and, bang. I’ve been electrocuted a couple of times and as soon as I held the bone a sharp, hot surge of current surged up my arm. I flung it back at him and waved my hand around to ease the pain. He held it up again. It resembled that thin piece of bone you get with a chicken drumstick, only this one came off an Emu. The Aboriginal Kurdaitcha man a type of witch doctor for want of a better word would use this bone. Adorned with a few strands of his victim’s hair he would point it at said victim. Now this didn’t seem to matter how far away the victim lived. If he knew he/she had the bone pointed, then they would suffer and sometimes die. I know this can be put down to their belief. What I want to get across is the amount of negative energy that would have flowed through this artefact. What rituals, curses, emotion and calls for death did this bone contain.
Apparently the bone was given to Eddy by an elderly aboriginal man he knew in the Northern Territory. He also gave him a knife he owned in WW2 that he used when he became involved in coast watching against the Japanese. I ‘read’ the knife and gave a huge account of the man and his life. Back to the bone. Aboriginal Dreamtime, their version of creation was inhabited by huge beasts and giant Aboriginals. I have a feeling, although I’m not privy to what is called upon for the bone pointing, that something immensely ancient and evil is sought by the Kurdaitcha man. Did the energy that I felt when holding the bone belong to whatever lurked beneath the floor in the spare room? I’m not sure, I do know that I wasn’t fantasising. The intense cold and pain felt very real. I don’t know if there were any other artefacts stored in the room. Which brings us to the question, if whatever existed there didn’t arrive with Eddy’s things then who brought it to the house? Did it always exist there? Was the land used in ancient times for ceremonies? Did something evil walk the land and if so does some part of it still exist? I know, more questions than answers. What I want to do is get across that working with spirit is not all about happy little chats with Gran. That there is good and evil out there and quite often it is well hidden. In the coming weeks I will be revealing that there is more out there than what we can see with our eyes. That we all have innate psychic abilities and that the world is indeed a strange place.
Next week: Haunted Houses, part 2. Two historical houses and a pub.