People carry their individual pursuits and aspirations, much like a suitcase in each hand, during what physical time they have on earth. People then move on…only to be replaced by a new group, and the cycle starts anew. Houses and buildings playing a part in these individual’s short stroll through life, however, to not fade; remaining timeless and stoic remnants of a past era. And while these buildings age—at a much slower rate than the people that passed through them—they continue to hold a firm imprint on a period of personal history and discovery; some good…some not so good. If only a building could speak…the stories they could tell. Or do they?
Houses and buildings in a small town for the most part continue to remain intact as the years roll forward, in one form or another, and unless destroyed by fire or some natural catastrophe, tend to stand longer than their counterparts in larger cities where there is always a critical eye directed towards development.
It would seem to be a part of small-town mentality to preserve, and a good one at that!
There have long been theories (and in the realm of the paranormal, theories are all we have) that certain folk—for a variety of reasons—can and will leave a “trace” behind after their earthly departure. This often involves a house or building they were formerly associated with. And much like a sponge, these buildings will soak in the fiber and essence of these mortal souls during their hey-day…replaying like a continuous loop of film. Or, something of a more interacting intelligent nature.
There seems to be no rhyme or reason…it just happens.
There may have been good interactions with the building…there may have been bad, but either way—they remain behind for whatever reason or purpose. Only they know…or not.
Do they fade in time as some believe? Or, do they open a doorway, so to speak, for a continuing onslaught of ethereal transient spirits?
It is theorized that some people, paranormal or otherwise, just by their sensitive nature are more receptive to these lingering spirits than others. I would suppose that could be a blessing or a curse, depending on your perspective.
A former Odd Fellows building in northern Indiana appears to be a recipient of spiritual activity that has chosen to remain behind. I have been investigating paranormal claims for several years, yet this location runs the gauntlet of evidence for the existence of spiritual activity. And while my experiences over the course of many investigations at this location were anything of dramatic television fare, it was an experience all the same; subtle but always sure.
My own encounters have been varied, yet have never failed to produce something. Past visits hold fond memories with friends and fellow investigators who will continue to remain cohorts in the future, searching for answers that we will most likely never receive. Other folks…I would just as soon forget and chalk it up to faded memories.
At this location I have always sensed something hovering just below the surface… much like the people who have placed their individual imprint in days gone by; having their own personalities, and consequently influencing a structure of brick and wood; and these remnants that remain affecting people in different and sometimes radical ways. Everyone reacts differently to a given situation. Some are more attuned. I have never experienced the evil manifestations reported in this building, but know those who have. I have never experienced the apparition captured and displayed on YouTube, but have no doubt it occurred. What I have experienced is significant audio evidence (EVPs) and a healthy dose of reality: that reality that occurs when your body senses you are being watched. It’s a feeling that you won’t soon forget.
I have experienced elation at this location…discomfort…times of grace, and just as quickly apprehension. I have also experienced something that is hard to talk about…because for a short period of time, I felt I lost all control.
Just one week ago I was again reacquainted with that disruptive sensation I had experienced on a previous visit. It was during a period when my life was in a state of flux and turmoil. Once again I found myself not being me…watching myself from afar as if viewing a movie, yet with no control of my actions…withdrawing…and in a state of being perplexed and mildly angry at the same time. Was it a minor state of some sort of possession? It seemed to originate when I spent time in a particular room—just like the last visit. Years ago a friend from another Indiana investigative team had the same reaction…and in the very same room! Only this time, my life was on an even keel; no state of flux…no turmoil? It remains a puzzle?
I have never considered myself a “sensitive”, but there are those moments when I do get “moments”, but have no idea what to do with them. Was I receiving something that had transpired in that particular room in the past? I guess I’ll never know unless I go back….
February 22, 2014—in the early morning hour’s snow showers had descended upon the former Odd Fellows building in northern Indiana. We called a halt to our investigation and the team headed separate ways into the night. Traveling south towards Indianapolis seemed a surreal past time as I replayed the night’s investigation and my temporary mental disengagement from the team. My girlfriend Laura fed me coffee and energy drinks and kept my attention directed towards the road. Occasionally during our discussion I would absently flash on the high beam of the headlights to illuminate a wall of snow streaking towards the windshield like a barrage of white bullets. The road had deteriorated under a thick fresh layer of snow and we were alone on it. Completely alone…in the dead of the early morning hours.
I, also during that steering wheel gripping drive, remembered a time in the past: mid 1980s during my transition from Oregon back to Indiana, driving through northern Wyoming during a similar bout of ferocious snow, when a highway patrolman pulled me over and non too kindly instructed me to—“Get off the highway…Now!” I took refuge in a small mom & pop motel just off the interstate and rented the last room they had. I had no choice but to smuggle my Norwegian Elkhound, Bob, into my room. Dogs were not allowed, but I sure as hell wasn’t leaving him in the car. It was a hell of a night…the paper thin walls producing an impromptu concert from the drunken neighbor in the next room singing Bob Seger songs into the early morning hours. I never really slept, as the wind and snow howled outside and I fully learned all the lyrics of Night Moves. Bob would growl in his sleep.
Paranormal? No. But it was some sort of weird passage that one never quite forgets.
Buildings do develop some semblance of a personality as a direct result from those who have graced their interiors, for even a short span of time. People seem to become imbedded, and in some cases become a permanent fixture. They come…they go, yet the buildings they frequented remain behind. And timeless. And quite often the voices carry on even beyond death.
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