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Posts Tagged ‘Camarillo State Hospital’

Cam Twelve
Cam Ten

Cam 2014 7 another lonely hallwayCam 2014 5 desolationCam 2014 9 Kir looking youngCam Eleven

http://snapjudgment.org/inpatients

If you haven’t already heard the story on NPR’s “Snap Judgment,” the above link will take you there. However, I’m guessing that many of you are here to know something else about that story.

First of all, the story is true. Some of the details overlapped from other investigations, and the ending of the story is slightly different than how I originally remembered it. It was Marsha who opened that door at the end of our journey, not the lady in white (whose name, by the way, is my name: Kirsten). Marsha reminded me that Kirsten 2 didn’t even want to come down that hallway and let us out. She was terrified.

I don’t condone the exploration of abandoned mental hospitals or any other abandoned site. If you know which place is profiled in this piece, you should also know that it is now a University. Said University does not take such exploration lightly, and will prosecute to the full extent of the law anyone they find exploring those buildings. That investigation was several years ago; we would not attempt it today.

Five years later, I am not the same person. I used to enjoy investigations. I loved the thrill of exploration and finding odd voices on audio. I still investigate and record audio, but I am very careful to take certain precautions that I never bothered with before. First and foremost, I pray. I pray for protection from possession or oppression. I pray for the souls of anyone who might be stuck or caught in the time loop of their conscious mind. I pray for all the people who might have suffered or died in a place that offered them no hope.

These investigations are serious business. We may not think so when we start out on these adventures. I started as someone who was curious and looking to recapture some fun from my youth. I ended up feeling very old, very tired, and often very scared. The spiritual realm is real. It’s not all bright white light and love. Sometimes, it exceedingly dark. If you search for the darkness, you will definitely find it.

I grew up in an academic family who prided themselves on their agnosticism, if not outright atheism. We were practical, smart, logical and critical. Only nutty New Age whack jobs believed in spirits and energies from the ‘Other Side’. I prided myself on my academic pedigree and my ability to discern real from fake, authentic from B.S., and conclusions based on rigorous thinking versus conclusions based on fantasy, wishful thinking, or neurosis.

What I discovered is that I don’t know shit. Sorry to put it so bluntly. However, I do have a strong, abiding faith in God. I no longer do work that is out of alignment with what I believe this universal force of love wants for me. As far as the world of spirit works, as far as definite answers are concerned, I don’t have them. I don’t think we will ever have them, because we “see through a glass darkly” by design. If you have answers, you don’t need faith. If you have answers, you stop asking the questions.

I will never stop asking the questions, especially the hard questions. I have lots of those. In the meantime, I stumble around in the dark and keep looking.

–Kirsten A. Thorne, PhD
See also: paranormalhousewives.com for many more audio clips of our investigations.

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Contrary to the title of this picture, I will not discuss what the Bible says about the Devil. I will, however, tell you what my subconscious mind says about him, or her, as the case may be. It was 3:00 AM, and I was not fully asleep when a vision took over my mind. It was not a dream; it had none of the bizarre, disjointed features of a dream. It was a lucid presentation of an event–just how to classify such an event is beyond my skills to describe. Suffice to say that I saw an old, old woman–revealed to be 96 years old, the age of my death as foretold by a gypsy–who approached me, smiling. I was happy to see her at first, until I realized that there was something terribly wrong with this old lady. She grinned at me, up close, and I saw a mouthful of rotten teeth as the stench of her breath hit my face. “I am the Devil,” she hissed, and then lifted her arm and attacked me with a pitchfork, stabbing me again and again in my side.

I knew she had come to take me away, and I was terrified. The vision faded, and I forced myself to fully return to my normal, conscious state. My first thought was: I can’t go out ghost hunting anymore. Pursuing phantoms in the dead of night is messing with my head. My second thought was: I am possessed, or about to be, and I’m scared that I might end up committed at a place quite similar to the one I investigate on a regular basis. Thank God such asylums are not longer legal . . . my third thought: GET THEE TO A YOGA CLASS at the crack of dawn. So away I went, early in the morning, to a yoga class that included a meditation that seemed designed for me and my particular needs (i.e., escaping the Devil). We were instructed to sit across from an image of the Divine and he/she directed a beam of light to explode the dark kernels of fear and bad karma that we had accumulated. Those dark seeds turned to ashes and were blown away by the divine wind of love and unconditional acceptance. All the corners had been illuminated, and I need not fear. I was crying like a child by the end of that meditation, and most importantly, I no longer felt as if the Devil were trying to take my soul.

Ghost hunters are a hardy bunch. We stare death in the face and record what is left over. We listen to hours of audio that might include something we don’t want to hear, and don’t wish to invade our lives. We don’t know what responds to us late at night in the old mental hospital, but we’re OK with that. Most of the time. The last time I was at Cam, Louis captured an EVP that could be life changing–yet again. At the time we heard nothing but the insane, incessant banging of the pipes with their attendant odd after-effects that sometimes seem to carry the voices into the atmosphere. I don’t remember exactly what Louis said, something like “do you remember me?” and the response that we heard, huddled around his digital audio recorder in a courtyard, was: “Is that all you want?” No, it was not vague or distorted; yes, we ALL heard it, and Ty (my husband) verified on video that none of us was talking at the time. It was so clear that we could all identify the words quite easily, without headphones or any audio enhancement programs. The voice was . . . tired, and slightly metallic, and perhaps a little sarcastic. He, whoever this was responding to us, wherever he might be–did not believe that all we wanted was an answer to our usual, repetitive questions. Of course we ask the same things over and over, because we are not engaged in a real conversation–we don’t hear the response until hours, days, or weeks later. The voice appeared to know something that even we do not–no, that is not all we want, we want so much more than to know whether or not you recognize us, or know us, or even what you think about our activities in these hideous hallways . . . we want to know more . . . we want to know if you are really the soul of a dead man, and if so, where the hell are you that you can talk to us, why in the name of all that’s holy are you still at Camarillo, what kind of afterlife is that, and the scariest question of all–is there no Heaven? Because if there’s a Heaven, then why are YOU, whatever you are, STILL HERE, inhabiting one of the worst places on Earth?

If a little girl’s spirit can find itself trapped in a place like this, then what is going to happen to me? What if I happen to die somewhere that I really don’t wish to, such as a hospital or a crappy hospice center somewhere in South Dakota? What about reincarnation? I thought we had a choice. Some of my sappier, New Age tomes on the afterlife talk about the fields of flowers and the Being of Diving Love who reunites us with all the people we loved and who loved us, and it’s one, big party until we have to decide whether or not to move on to Higher Spiritual Realms or choose another life to live on Earth. It’s all good, right?

No, it’s not all good. Sometimes, it’s sad, tragic, upsetting, scary and a touch evil. We don’t know shit about the afterlife, really. Of course, if you are devoutly religious, then you DO know, and I admire your faith and divine knowledge–I mean that sincerely–but if you are unlucky enough to not feel that kind of faith to the marrow of your bones, you go out searching for your own answers.

Sometimes you get laughter and humor.

Sometimes you get confusion and sadness.

Sometimes you get the Devil, and he tries to take your soul.

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