Our Ghostly Guests Weblog

I actually wanted to spend one more night in the house now that everything we want is out of there. I would have been happy to spend one more day there, since the activity wasn’t limited to the night hours.

I wanted to do more EVP experiments, and see what sort of things would happen, especially down in the basement.

I put out a text message to virtually everyone who has ever spent time in the house, and had an “experience,” inviting them to join me. The only person who agreed (reluctantly) was Cheryl. No one else.

Doing an investigation by oneself is bad protocol, since there are no witnesses as to any activity that may occur, so I decided against staying there by myself. Although, even as I write this, I’m still tempted!

Maybe it’s just better to leave well enough alone.

I don’t know. I still might, with or without someone there with me.

If I do, I’ll let you know what happens.

What about you? Care to join me?

It’s official; as of today Cheryl and I no longer live in the house. We’ve moved into another home and it’s so refreshing. The energy is so much different in a number of ways.

Albert and Prince are so much happier in our new home. To give you an idea as to what I mean, the move has taken place over a series of days. Each time I’ve gone there Prince would typically be with me, and he would usually want to leave within minutes of getting to the house. More than once he would refuse to follow me down into the basement.

Today, he was with Cheryl and me when we went to move the last of the things that we wanted to take and Cheryl went to go get us some drinks. After she left I went down into the basement and since Prince did not follow me down when I got to the bottom of the stairs I turned around to see what he was doing.

I saw him sitting and staring towards the area of the utility room. I called out his name, and he just kept staring. I called out to him several times before he finally looked at me for a moment, then went back to staring at whatever it was he was sensing. This actually happened at least three times. He would glance at me to let me know he heard me, then he would go back to staring towards the utility room area.

I started to walk back up the stairs when he kind of snapped out of it. He came towards me and rolled over on his back to let me tickle him. I started back down the stairs and he sat up and started staring into the bathroom this time. When I went back upstairs he met me half-way and came into the basement with me. While we were in the basement, I heard footsteps above us in the kitchen area.

I went upstairs calling out, “Hello!” expecting to see Cheryl but she wasn’t there. When Cheryl finally did get back, Prince ran out into the garage to meet her.

“He doesn’t want to come in,” Cheryl told me. “He wants to get in the car.”

So I went out to the garage, and rather than running out into the front yard like he usually does when the garage door is open, Prince was on the other side of the car running towards me. I opened the door on the driver’s side and Prince jumped in. A little while later both Cheryl and I went out to the garage and opened the door to the car and called Prince to come out of the car and into the house. He refused.

Other things happened, such as Cheryl’s camera acting up whenever she tried to take pictures in “trouble spots.” It would be working fine, and then suddenly it would not take a picture, and then turn off. This happened at least four times, and all of them in the areas we experienced the most activity.

Since we started moving one of the things I personally noticed was how “dense” the energy in the house seemed as it became emptier and emptier. It got to the point that I would only be in it for a few minutes and I would be literally exhausted. I would feel lethargic and even depressed. The last time I was there with only Prince, I was only able to last 30 minutes before wanting to leave.

It was even worse when Cheryl was with me. We would get to the house and be at each other’s throats before long. One minute we’d be fine, and then the next literally be snapping, and name calling at each other, for no reason. Honestly, I had heard about this sort of progression and escalation before in cases I’d investigated, but this was the first time I personally experienced it. I can truthfully say that I think we got out of the house “just in the nick of time.”

I can’t begin to tell you how happy we are to be in our new home. A friend of ours came by a few days ago and commented on how much calmer our cat, Albert, is. Prince is not only happier, he has even more energy. Cheryl is not on edge anymore, and neither am I.

Finally, I’d investigated cases of hauntings, apparitions, and poltergeist activity long before it became popular to do so. I’d even lived in a couple of homes that had activity of a paranormal nature. For years I collected objects that were supposedly haunted. A few were, most weren’t. Those that were made my life interesting.

However, it wasn’t until living in this house that I really appreciated what it was like for the people I’ve tried to help in the past. I specialized in investigating homes that people were afraid of living in, and on the verge of moving out. Some I investigated after they moved out due to the activity they were experiencing. I now know what their lives were like. We weren’t afraid of living in the house, but things were definitely taking a turn for the worse.

I don’t want to close without saying a word about the ghost hunting groups that are sprouting up like weeds these days. In my opinion, many of these so-called “paranormal investigators” are really just hoping to experience a ghost themselves. They have no real interest in helping those who are living through it. I even wrote articles about this and was dunned for it. That’s why I quit. I genuinely wanted to help people, and I was tired of what I was seeing happen in the field.

Then I started helping on investigations as a psychic and medium. When a group, that I helped start, fell into “thrill seeking,” I quit for good. Ironically, they came to our home, and I’m still waiting for a report and a copy of the evidence they gathered almost two years later. They got what they came for, and saw no reason to go any further.

Perhaps Cheryl said it best when I asked her for her thoughts about the house a few days ago. “The whole experience almost became boring,” she told me. “I did learn though that you have to learn to control it, or it will control you.”

If I ever do start investigating paranormal claims again I’m sure I’ll be much better at it because of the time Cheryl and I lived in this house. It changed my life.

It changed me.

I’m glad it’s over.

When I was actively investigating hauntings, one of the questions I was most asked was, “Can a ghost hurt you?” The answer is “no, a ghost can’t hurt you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt.”

Several years ago I started a ghost hunting group – long before they started showing up on television. At the time, I used psychics to help me out. It made sense to me that since hauntings are human experiences I need humans to experience what was supposedly going on, and I would use equipment to measure what was going on in the environment at the time the activity was going on.

By the way, as I was writing the above paragraph Cheryl and I heard a loud bang coming from the basement. She’s in the family room and I’m in the Teton room.

The first investigation we did was at a university and to make a long story short, one of the psychics started complaining of a pain in her stomach. Then the other psychic made the same complaint. “Mental note,” I said to myself, “keep psychics separated as much as possible at all times. The power of suggestion seems to be at work here.”

Suddenly, I felt as though I were kicked in the stomach! I couldn’t believe how much pain I was in; I was literally doubled over. We were in a small kitchenette, and I knew that there was an energy by the refrigerator, so I stumble over to it and leaned against the wall. “Take pictures of me!” I shouted. “What are the instruments (Tri-Field Meters) saying?”

“Nothing!” one of the investigators said. “The needle isn’t moving!”

“How could that be?” I wondered.

“Your camera isn’t focusing!” another investigator, Diane, said.

“Good! Keep shooting! Don’t stop taking pictures!”

Finally the pain subsided, and I was able to crawl out of the kitchenette. “Oh my God! Look at this!” Diane called out.  We looked at the photos that she took while I was struggling to stay standing. Slowly, with each frame I was disappearing from view. Then a white mist starting forming in front of me, until it formed into what appeared to be a face with a huge smile.

I’m writing this because even though I was thinking about it while I was writing about what went on here Saturday night, I still forgot to mention it. After Wyatt commented on the energies in the house not liking the crosses he walked into the walk-in closet off of the master bathroom. As he walked to the other end he was standing in the area in which two of my tee shirts flew at Cheryl.

Suddenly he turned around with his hand on his right kidney. “Wow!” he cried out.

“What happened?” Cheryl asked. Miguel was behind her filming.

“I just felt as though I were sucker punched in my kidney,” Wyatt told them.

So what attacked me and struck Wyatt? Was it a ghost?

No, ghosts are recordings of energy replayed under circumstances. I tell people to think of them the same way you’d think of an image on your television. What hit Wyatt was something else. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but as I said before, it feels as though the energy may be ramping up, and I don’t think this is going to be good.