When I started “ghost hunting”, I went with groups to the places with the darkest and most disturbing past. The theory was, if anything is going to manifest itself, it will be at places where a great number of people experienced heavy trauma. It was a great theory, and it turned out to be true. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t understand or realize to what extent that negative energy would affect me and my life. Ultimately, I have had to cut way back on my investigations of sites that are marked by unhappiness and pain.My barriers are too porous for such interactions; while I stop short of believing that I “brought something home,” I do believe that my physical and emotional health were adversely affected by what I experienced in places like Camarillo, Rancho Los Amigos and a certain jail that shall go unnamed.
As I delved deeper into the mysteries of the afterlife, my interests have turned to more positive contact with the ‘other side’, or whatever one wishes to call it. I have spent a great deal of time wondering about my long-deceased relatives–where are they now? What has happened to them?
Oddly enough, I received something of an answer while drifting in and out of a sort of twilight sleep (this is when the most interesting things happen to me). I formulated the question: “Where are you now, Nana?” and the answer was instant and very clear: “I’m at home”. And then I saw her and Faf in the back yard on the patio, drinking gin and tonics, laughing. She was wearing a free-flowing early-70s dress with big flowers in yellow, orange and brown. There were very happy. This was not a memory or a flashback; this was now.
It was, however, the kind of “now” that was and is always “now”. I think about time as much as I think about ghosts. There is the kind of time that passes and ages us, and leads us to death; and then there is the kind of time that is not time. I have experienced those moments, as all of us have, where a moment is eternal and out of time. When time ceases to hold any meaning or to have any relevance to our experience of the real, that’s eternity. That is where Nana and Faf were, in that time that was not. I could go to their house right now, and it would belong to someone else; but in the time slot next door, it’s Nana and Faf’s house, and always has been. One version of time is no more real than the other, or perhaps Nana’s world is the one that underlies all of what we think and assume is reality.
In any case, they are there and enjoying their lives. I wish knowing this could take away the physical, animal part of me that needs to cuddle with her and hang off my Faf’s amazing bicep. That, and there is no way around it, feels truly vanished from my life.