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Paranormal and Supernatural => Australian Hauntings Portal => Topic started by: KANACKI on February 14, 2016, 07:41:38 PM
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Ah St Valentines day! A day for lovers and day those of us who have loved to lament its passing.
Even in the mist of treatment with Chemotherapy with bouts of nausea vomiting and diarrhea, I can still remember and lament those passing moments in life.
The following ghost story once told to me came to be a reminder of such a day as this. A fitting is it not for a requiem for a lost love.
Ironic is it not Kanacki the old and frail non-threatening to everyone can get more information and stories from people than the most determined of intelligence agencies. Why is it so? Perhaps because I always make an effort to look people into their eyes and say hello to everyone and perhaps try to listen to people. Some thing the next generation I fear is losing as I see themselves more self obsessed with their I pads, being more prone to narcissism hidden behind a veil of the internet. Never looking people in eyes any more never exploring the window of their souls?
Yet the simple small talk with a total stranger can lead to an very interesting story. The following person, his face could tell a thousand yarns, but his eyes betrayed a deeper sadness. As we had conversations on a host of topics, the subject of strange experiences came up. Do you believe in possibility of ghosts? He exclaimed.
I nodded. And he continued and paused if rather embarrassed. I do not know how to tell the following story without sounding like some pervert with a strange fantasy bordering on the point of lunacy? I some times feel it was just all a hallucination? Even still the memory of it is still fresh, but some parts have faded like dream.
He told me a bit about his life. How he has child was sent from England as a abandoned orphan to Australia in the 1950's. He was one of stolen generation. His childhood was in institutions run by church that stole his youth by beatings and abuse. He like others never got adopted out because he was never the pretty boy but a runt of a kid. The left over that was never loved or wanted and only seen as a burden. He told of early life of never having any intimate relationship.
Even when he lost his virginity it was to drug effected prostitute more interested in her next fix. He had become the proverbial emotional island as cold as stone and the years slipped away as he drifted from one crappy job to the next. Never getting anywhere in his life as his education was officially lacking, although he was quite intelligent as he was a avid reader. Seen as gutter trash by academics and seen as a professor by the gutter trash he was himself an outsider always looking in. A nobody lost and fallen between cracks of life.
It was in the 80's he told me. When for those who can remember we had the recession we had to have? He had hit that magic number in life when you become obsolete. Living on edge as usual living in boarding house in Port Kembla, he managed to find a job. Not a high paying one ,but one that paid the bills.
The job was cash in the hand, driving cars from Sydney to be sold in Queensland. Good prices could be fetched for second-hand cars back then. The Job entailed him driving up north along the Pacific highway with various cars to sell. He would take nearly about a hundred of cars up over the course of year. The profits margin after fuel and his retainer and overnight accommodation. He would return to Sydney by coach. For that was his lonely life in that time and place. He did what he had to do to survive.
In the late 1980's most of road was the old highway and not so much the divided free way it is today that bypasses most of the towns. It was in one of travels north past Grafton that Holden commodore he was taking up the Queensland cut out due to engine trouble. Stuck on crappy part of highway he managed to get the car off the road. It was in the afternoon as the road went through a lonely stretch of forest. This was in the days hardly anyone except the rich had mobile telephone and even then they were like bricks.
The car had cut out and he lifted the bonnet in vain hope of trying to fix the problem as thousands of cars and trucks whizzed by not giving him a second glance. As the afternoon sun dipped into the west the sun shone between the trees.
He said to me, he was not sure where he was and not even to this day? He spied a house amongst the trees all over grown, but still looked like it was possibly habitable? Just before it was a road which was tarred for a few meters then turned into a dirt road. House sat on a corner block of this country lane and the Pacific Highway. At first it was hard to notice the house at all? Because the from the Highway the front yard was all tall gum trees with ferns and tree ferns growing almost to the front door. But with the sun behind the trees you could make out the darkened mass of a house.
The house looked like an time old weathered grey weather board two bedroom farm hand house with no veranda. With just a front step with a room attached on back of the house with skillon roof. And old paling farm shed stuck in back next to a timber and tin outhouse. The back yard was bathed in light by the afternoon sun shining through a gap in trees. A tattered old clothes line that looked it has seen better days and a beautiful rose bush wallowing in flower enjoying the afternoon sunlight added to the scene.
At as the sounds of trucks and cars drove past first he was hesitant in knocking the old front door bereft of paint? But he had hoped there was an amicable owner behind the door that would either give directions or call a tow truck for him? What answered from behind the door......was as he stared at me intently and stated, beyond his wildest imagination.
After a moment of awkward silence after he knocked the ancient door it creaked open, he saw standing meekly behind the door a little apprehensive of this roadside visitor, was a woman in her early 40's. She was of medium height and average build with blond shoulder length hair. She was once quite a beauty, but still had matured gracefully like a rose slightly frayed around the edges. But what was most striking of all was her deep laughing blues eyes, in an instant he started to fall into them.
It was in effect, attraction at first sight as he somewhat spluttered out his story of breaking down on the Highway, embarrassed like a child with their first crush. She listened intently to this rather awkward man. And perhaps she herself was a little lost of company too and opened up the door and apologised as her telephone was not working.
However she said to the man a little flushed with embarrassment “You look like you need a coffee. I do not get many visitors these days” She led him through the front door into the room. The lounge, come dining room and kitchen was remarkable in contrast to the outside as it was all modern and new. The walls was painted white and inside the house seemed lighter on the inside than the forest outside around the house.
In the lounge Area was 2 seater lounge around a brick fireplace with a TV in the corner. The walls was covered with paintings. It appeared that she was an artist. And as he sat and sipped his coffee he noticed many books on white shelves about the place.
The awkward silence was again broken and he began to see she was somewhat embarrassed as well as him of their growing mutual attraction. With a tension breaking joke and somewhat awkward apology indeed the more he talked to her the more he discovered they had many things in common. It was for him, he had found some thing in her, he had been unknowingly searching for his entire life, some one he could relate to and love? He the unloved one., could it be possible?
He looked at me as he told me this he smiled back and said yes I know, I know it sounds all rather impossible for the likes of me, even now I cannot believe it. As I sat there listening with intent he continued the story.
As they sat they talked like long lost friends and afternoon wore on all the more mesmerized he became of her and her laughing blue eyes. By now the noise of traffic from the Pacific High way was if magically vanished and all memory of his purpose to visiting the house because of the broken down car had vanished. She showed him the back yard of roses and on impulse he did some thing impulsive beyond what he every thought himself capable of? He took off a rose and humbly turned and presented it to her to thank her for her kindness and commented on her beauty and kindness was much deeper than skin deep. She blushed with a little embarrassment with her breath slightly taken away and her eyelids flirted and eyes opened wide at the compliment. Breaking the sensual tension by she suggested he stay for dinner.
He looked sharply at me to see if I was taking him serious trying to gauge my thinking. He told me his encounter triggered deep emotions he never thought he had of a life time of being alone. His head spun with hidden doubts as if he needed to find some thing wrong as behind her beautiful smiling face. He was intrigue and mystified by her and could see tinges of sadness that it seemed to him only he could related to. He was still in disbelief what was happening as if he had fallen into a some sort of romantic movie.
He continued telling me his story as I listened intently.
By now sun had set and felt that he needed to feel he was not over indulging in her company as every moment near her his desire grew and the attraction appeared to be mutual. In stuttering embarrassment he made out a feeble excuse to leave. However she in a little panic in her eyes pleading with him said please stay.... He looked deeply into her eyes and somehow for first time in all his life he had glimpsed upon a kindred spirit that spurred emotions and desires to kiss her lips.
The tension between to kindred souls came to a point when we all remember that first magic kiss, the soft gentle touch and feel of some thing special and magic that very few people rarely experience of releasing powerful passions and emotions.
He stopped telling the story for a moment as he was lost for words haunted by a far away look in his eyes. Once again he went red in front of me and said in short he made passionate love to her in a sweet embrace. Later as they lay in each other arms whispering sweet nothings.. She whispered that seemed to be from far away “you will not forget me I have been searching you for so long!” and handed him the rose he had given her earlier. Looking deeply into her pleading eyes he fell into a deep sleep.
As he awoke in the early morning to the sound of trucks and cars echoed through the trees from the nearby Pacific High way as the sunlight streamed through the trees into the bedroom. He discovered she had disappeared? Looking up at the ceiling he saw dirty mould on ceiling as his eyes adjusted to the daylight he realised he was lying naked on a mouldy half rotten mattress and the room was all derelict. In fact the whole house inside was all the same empty derelict and abandoned. Rubbish littered the floor next to his clothes lying scattered and nothing was same as he saw the day before. His lover and kindred spirit was mere memory of dream? As he wandered the old house in complete and utter shock, he realised he was holding in his hand the rose he had given her. Looking to garden out the back was overgrown and rose he had plucked from rose bush, well the rose bush was long dead.
Yet he had a fresh rose just plucked the day before.
Baffled and bewildered he wandered in daze back to the broken down commodore. On impulse he and panic he tried to start the car. To his utter amazement it started first go like if there was nothing wrong with it to begin with?
He looked at my reaction as if I was confessor to him as he finished his story. Ya know he said I travelled many times along that damned cursed Pacific Highway since and never saw once that house again he said. He paused... looking at me and with a final fumble of a implement of convincing me of his strange ghostly encounter..He produced from his wallet a flattened dried rose that was a memento of his strange and bewildering experience.
Happy valentines day and sweet dreams to all of those lovers and to those who have loved and to those who have yet to.
Kanacki
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The above yarn was told to me nearly 20 years ago if not a little more. The story half forgotten, lies dormant in the memory as one the many old Kanacki has a mental picture of over the years.
In 2014 for first time in year I decided to drive up to Sunshine coast to visit my Kids and Grand kids. Taking my elderly mother also for her to visit her great grand children. Normally we would fly up, but for a change I thought I would drive up. stopping here and there along the way.
It was a lot different as the new freeway has bypassed most of the towns these days and many of the mom and pop tourist attractions that was there on the old hwy in 60's and seventies was gone. However through the long stretches of Highway as people and places whiz past in a flickering of a eye I saw it.
But of course it was only in brief glimpse as drove past a 100 km and hour by saw it. The image that he gave from description that he gave triggered the memory of the story.
Ironic as I too later forgotten the location as you only see the house for split second before passing it in you side vision as you driven down the highway. Just an faded weatherboard farmhouse with windows like sad old eyes staring out waiting to tell its story.
For me that was as about as close as I got to this mysterious old house in the trees by the road.
Strange enough I heard another story of some one who had actually visited the old house?
To be continued
Kanacki
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Fate can be so strange? Just when you think you figured things out, some unforeseen twist of fate comes in blows your perceptions away.
About 10 years ago I was having a conversation with an Austar salesman. ( yes see I talk to everyone!) And the subject of strange people he had met I course of going door to door. He had been traveling through rural NSW from the villages to small hamlets. In fact he said he just about visited every farm or farmlet up on the north coast. Even his amazement of himself places I never heard of but they are there.
One such place was an old house hidden behind the tree on the Pacific Hwy. At first the ramshackle old weather board building with no paint on it. The colour of an old timber paling . He claimed there was a door on the side with no veranda. The front he said had an very old wraparound veranda with a very rusty tin roof roof. the front yard was very overgrown and could barely see the highway.
He knocked the door. He could barely hear a distinct rumble of footstep on the floorboards behind the door and a slight rustle of the curtains and swear he glimpsed a profile of face and a indistinct profile of a women in the darkness of one of the empty windows standing next to an easel if she was painting a painting, if peering out to see who it was?. Nothing!
He shouted out hello to an empty no answer. Looking around the lane which was tar by the house which sat on a corner block and this small lane that was actually a driveway to another much newer modern house on the hill rising above.
Visiting the other house he encountered an elderly couple the classic mom and pop stereo type. They must of been in their late 70's. In conversation flogging Austar he managed to sell to them. He mentioned the lady in front house by the Highway The old lady and gent looked at one another rather flummoxed .
The old lady said no one lives there. The husband looked away....The Austar sales man was of course perplexed and said I saw a women through the window, painting on a easel?
"There was no one there!" muttered the husband of the old lady. "It was our daughters house." The old lady finally said. We had a hell of a time with her. She has suffered severely with bipolar depression. She was in and out of hospital. "We let her have the old farmhouse to live to give her some independence yet be close by if she needed help.."
"Yet help never came." The old lady choked a little. Her husband added "she committed suicide....." The Salesman apologized for reminding them of their personal pain. The old gent nodded that's okay. Your not to know, they rarely get visitors here at random these days. It was nearly 20 odd year ago. The house near the Highway has been left empty and is almost derelict.
And that was his yarn.
Was there any truth to the yarn? Was it the even same house?
Strange stories indeed connected to an forlorn looking old weather beaten farmhouse that hides behind the trees next to the Pacific Hwy.
So next time you happened to be passing spare a thought for them as you pass by the old house.
I know I will the next time I am passing though.
Kanacki
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Finally there is one more part to this ghost yarn?
I did find the location just recently..... I have some pictures of the house but I am loath to post them for two reasons as I think it may be travesty to have hoards of curious people trespassing in the old house disturbing the elderly couple on the property behind.
The second was a a promise I had made.....
To be continued.....
Kanacki
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Ironic is it not?
He is known for keeping his promise has not for filled his promise.
Months after I was told the story I was contacted by a hospital. There lay dying was the man of this strange ghost story. The nurses said he was raising blue murder to get them to contact me. And with a little hint that he had no visitors or family as he lay dying played a little unnecessary guilt trip with me.
But compelled I did visited him, why perhaps I was a little more that half convinced of his story. Or perhaps it was my eternal curiosity in such matters...
You know there is an old saying that some of you may know "Curiosity is what killed the Cat?" However there is another old saying "The right kind of curiosity can save many cats!"
to be continued....
Kanacki
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There I was visiting a person I hardly knew. Wondering what the hell I was do there? Yet there I was? standing before a man hardly known to me visiting more out of pity as it hard to see some one die alone. He had been diagnosed with two brain tumors the size of golf balls. one behind each eye. He had weeks if days to live.
The hospital put him in palliative care and there he was the end game of such a tragic life. Nothing really to show for his sad pathetic existence. He was in a very bad way lapsing in and out of morphine based delusions.
He looked up from the hospital and faintly smiled too weak and too tired to do anything else and said weakly "I knew you would come to see me!"
To be continued.....
Kanacki
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He in a moment of clarity looked at me and said "Your the only person to ever take the time to hear my story. Why did you even bother?" He smiled and said "I can see the story you hide in your eyes. The trauma that haunts you my friend. Only those who has gone through such darkness can ever fully understand!"
A nurse interrupted with medication to adjust the dose of morphine. His looked deep and searching into my eyes and said. "I see many burning bridges have fallen after you on that long and lonely road you tread and what drives you is to plow though all this long hard life of yours? Curiosity my friend as your desire to know the answer to all things beyond life itself is more than part of you its in your soul. "
"Do you believe in karma?" He whispered it like if it was a sacred word. Karma? I said not really sure what he was getting at? Hell at the time I was not sure what the word Karma really meant? He leaned forward a little and said " You know my long hard life of misery and failure I come to the conclusion that everyone in life is a metaphor is wheel or circle of life is slowly turning like the motion of the stars." He continued "Some peoples fortunes in life turn very slowly while others turn faster either good or bad. In death that wheel still continues and turns in the next one."
He choked a little a grimaced, clearly in pain. But continued talking. "Until you have experienced all the positive and negative emotions and experiences you will never fully understand what you do in this rhythm of life is what we suffer in the next life? I like to think I have paid my debt in this one?" He grinned at his private Ironic joke.
And he paused then continued. "The rhythm of life is a powerful emotional force to finish the circle, its revolution and our ultimate Epiphany. There is a reason why we experience the good and bad? That my friend is Karma"
"One cannot exist without the other?"I muttered beginning to understand.
Silence fell between me sitting on a hospital chair and he who lay there dying. A pitiful sight with me for once in my life really lost for words.
He drifted off for a second as I sat there staring at him. As if woken from a dream he snapped awake and apologized sorry. I have some thing , no.... I have some thing to beg of you to do me?"
Of course of those who read and understood the cycle of life one could guess what he wanted me to do?
He pointed to the draw....As open the draw next to the bed.
There was a letter with ribbon tied around it and a faded dried Rose.
To be continued.....
Kanacki
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Ironic as I type with severely affected cognitive skills, I too going through the trials of chemotherapy . In moment of lucidity and in moments sleep, nausea among other things. Remember with embarrassment that I had promised him before he fell into endless sleep that I would complete the circle and return the Rose and deliver the dead mans love letter with it as an act symbolism.
I remember guilt and conundrum I went through when he died. What the hell was I thinking this was insane? I was not even sure of the house? The only coherent thing I got from him that I would know the house when I saw it? Was it all just an opium dream of some broken down old man? I did my head in as I had commitments, family and work, not an hopeless quest given to me by a dying man who I hardly knew?
And there it was this little piece of Requiem of a lost love to deliver it to house that may or may not exist? And there it stayed letter unopened with faded dried rose in among the trophies of a long life, of travel business family friends, children and grand children. Yet there it stayed as life went on and story became only a mere memory.
For years it sat in small decorated box wedged in my bookcase in my study. Until one day my inquisitive young granddaughter visited me in my Study. It was all an adventure for her to stay in this chocolate box Gothic revival house that with its garden looking like some thing out of Hansel and Gretel with her mother my daughter.
She virtually had free reign of the secret gardens among the flowers and the rooms of this somewhat believed by my children at least haunted house of mystery. Except my office Study that was off limits to her and imagine her curiosity when she entered my Study library full of old manuscripts and documents collected from around the world set by strange curios collected from what it seemed more than one life time.
She in elfin like waif danced around the room of my study in wonder with her eyes focus on all the old books. In innocence of a 6 year old she pulled out the small decorated box from in between the books.
"Granddad whats this?" she asked in all the innocence of only a child knows.
Ah the saddened memory of it reminded me of my broken promise. I leaned forward and made her clasp her hands around boxed and said some thing that I hope you never experience my little princess. I opened the box showing her the rose.
It was look of innocence and youth not quite understanding sentimentality of it all she grinned and skipped away out of study as her mum called her, not to bug grandpa in his office.
But there it was staring up at me this faded rose and its story begging to be told. Yet it stayed there as curious memento of story...and Forgotten until 2014 I saw the house for one brief moment?
And perhaps I am an old sentimental old fool. The idea as I sit and type thinking if I am well after treatment some time later in the year if I am able to drive to Queensland I might just stop this time at the old house and deliver this Requiem for a lost love.
Kanacki
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The strange thing is.... did this man meet this women through a time slip? Where he went into the past where she was alive and in fact she was not the ghost but he...awoke in the morning back in his present?
Mind candy indeed?
Kanacki
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Ironic is it not?
Once again Old Kanacki is preparing for road trip once again to sea my grand kids on the Sunshine coast. No greater pleasure to hear the exited Grand kids on the phone when told grandpa coming visit. Not only grandpa but great grandma. While Great Grandma forgets her great grand children they still take pleasure in seeing her. As it is reminder of some thing precious the continuation of family by generations.
I have been very ill this year and yet by some divine Provence I hope I well enough to get there. We will travel in short trips stopping overnight a few times on the way up.
While once again more of the dual carriageway has once again cut off more portions of the old Pacific Highway. I hope to find that house.
I have not forgotten the strange promise I gave to a dying man all those years ago? I hope I can complete that strange request I once asked to do?
A symbolic closure and final requiem of a lost lost love.
We shall see........
Kanacki
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And see indeed. Its been nearly two years ago, no three years I spied this forlorn house in the trees next to the highway not stopping. And now in June 2017 Looking a lot seedier, a lost broken dream of a house that once was. There it was in the flicker of passing trees with the ambient afternoon sunlight shining through them as if acting as a strobe light. The house appears out of nowhere.
Even so even when expecting it? It still catches you off guard forcing me to break had to slow down the car enough to turn off onto the dirt road next to the house. As the car skidded to a halt on half dirt and gravel driveway, the house loomed partly illuminated by the after noon sun and darkened by the gum trees branches and leaves that reflected onto cold dead Gray walls of the house.
The tin roof once painted was once painted red now aged to a colour between red and rust tinged with streaks of green mold that shone in the after noon sun. The walls of the timber cladding on the house looked like the timber never saw a lick of paint. As deep as Grey as very old fence palings with all the lines and cracks as an old person with the wisdom of old age.
Yet with a closer inspection in tiny crevices between the board you can see traces of white paint? The colour this ancient house was so many years ago. The shaded side had no veranda and in the front the veranda wrapped around the other side facing the afternoon sun. The bull-nose veranda was drooping at the corner. It was a house that had long lost its losing battle with time. The garden was over grown with ferns in between the trees that perhaps once in better times shaded a lawn.
Its forlorn empty windows stared out at you glazed in 1001 cobwebs and the sun decayed curtains hid from view to what lurked inside. While run down it was you was never quite sure on appearances that it was lived in or not?
And it was this that loomed before me as I stopped the car, as the sounds of trucks and cars roared on by on the highway own their own strange journeys. Oblivious to my strange story unfolding.
To be continued.....
Kanacki
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And there I sat in the car in awe at the place. My elderly parent suffering from vascular dementia in one of her lucid moment asked me what the hell are we doing here? Oblivious to my strange promise I once promised so many years ago' to a dying mans last request?
I my own lucid moment it came back to me his story? His lost love that once was? So quickly found so quickly lost. One fleeting moment in time he had felt like some body other than a nobody. All those who have loved,lost and regretted and lamented will know......
My thoughts came to the box with a letter and dried rose. The very one my grand daughter had taken from book shelf a year or so earlier. Her innocence in her inquiry about the box had triggered my consciousness of it and the guilt in the failure to deliver on such a strange promise.
There is unwritten code tattooed into my soul from a long hard life that is as precious as life itself. Is honor thy promises. If you cannot even honor your own word your nothing in this world. Your word has no value, no respect.... Values that seem lost among many people these days. A loss one of values lament of its passing....
And thus a broken promise became a debt of honor that haunted me, Tormented me of failure as an damming example of one of the many failings of my long life....Yet in last few years I was determined for redemption of my past failings. The realization had come to me to complete the circle of Karma is essential in life to pass on in my own spiritual journey.
Karma my friends is such a powerful force and one can only ever really pass on to the road to true nirvana by completing the tasks karma lays before you. The task was before me. But alas to my own despair not knowing exactly what to do...
And what a task it was? Not so clear garbled directions by a dying man lapsing in and out of morphine based delusions. A promise to deliver a love letter and a faded rose from a man I hardly knew, to a ghost of a long dead women that haunted an old house along the Pacific hwy that may or may not exist?
To be continued...
Kanacki
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It seemed all too impossible. Yet here I was an old man lamenting the passing of better years with an equally even older parent who was beyond comprehending or even caring the passing of of those years awaiting impatiently for god in the car next to me. What a strange pair of geriatric Argonauts we must of looked like?
Half forgotten memories of the dying mans comments came back to me. “ You will know the house when you see it? It appears out of now where".....There before me empty windows stared back at me beckoning me to my fate.
There are times in all our lives we need to do a leap of faith. And mine was to knock on this ancient old door. It was if I floated in a dream to this door like a ghost returning to its haunt. Embarrassed not knowing really knowing what to say if anyone or anything answer my knock and call “Hello”
My knock on the door echoed emptiness from inside. The sound you know you self the echoing of an empty room. I have delusions perhaps of a faded curtain rustled as roar of truck passed by along the highway. Nothing only the deadness of an empty house. Feeling silly in anticipation of some one or some thing answering I knocked again and called out...... But only emptiness replied with silence.
To be continued...
Kanacki
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Here I was standing at the door of old house feeling totally stupid holding that little box with the letter and faded rose. My indecision was broken by my elderly mother calling out “Are we in Queensland yet”? Impatient as ever oblivious to our mythical deadline or where we were.
I walked around the side of the house to the rear of the yard. It was over grown in places with an ancient almost overgrown concrete pathway to a and old bent and rusted hills hoist clothesline. There had once been a garden there as traces of exotic plants could be see as one last act of defiance. An old timber clad out out house stood in the yard on a slight tilt as if it has had a night on the tow, Its wooden sandblasted Grey door swung loosely on its hinges revealing the old thunder box. The house had a skillon roof on the back connected to an old Chimney that gave the impression that the room inside was the old kitchen? Once again I had called out looking at the tattered fly screen on the rear door of the house.
Standing there next to the path was an ancient rose bush catching the evening afternoon sun. Doubts began to creep in. What the hell was I thinking? Had I the correct house? I had strange fears of some angry farmer coming from down from the house higher up on hill wanting to get me charged for trespassing? Or even getting a load of buckshot in my ass.
I went to back door and did one final knock. There was only silence interrupted by passing traffic out the front on the highway. In frustration I tried the door. It was locked. I placed the box with the letter between between the old fly-screen door and the door of the house. Only to be startled by by the call of my mother who had impatiently wandered from the car calling for me.
She being on fluid tablets need to go to the toilet and was busting....Shuffling as dementia sufferers do seeing the out door toilet and making a run for it. Realizing the place seemed deserted in knowing the desperation of elderly incontinent wanting go. I lead her into the outdoor toilet. What could happen one more embarrassing moment in a life time of embarrassments? Two old farts caught using the dunny of some total strangers all be it abandoned house?
The curse of those who know only too well the passing of dignity of the elderly and even sadder to witness to a very different confident person once was. And timely reminder of my own mortality at this strange old deserted house by the highway. Was I sure this was the correct house? Had I had delivered the requiem of the lost love to complete the cycle of life’s karma?
Had I full filled a dead mans wish?
to be continued.....
Kanacki
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I knew not for definite?
But perhaps it never really mattered physically, perhaps it was the symbolic attempt of having attempted to full fill the promise that mattered?
Back in the car with mum strapped in the front passenger seat I continued the Journey with one last look at the forlorn old house.... But in looking back at the house I was not sure a rustle or draft of wind moved a sun dried curtain, just enough to question had I see that or imagined it?
However I had other promises to for fill take a dying old parent to see her great grand children before she totally forgot them. For her it was her last trip before eternity... And for me honoring a promise and seeing my grand children.
Yet fate had one last twist my friends....
kanacki
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While I am no great true believer in the supernatural...And do not profess any paranormal powers I do keep an open mind. As I believe there are things in this universe beyond the imagination of science. Later that day we spent the night in the motel as I was suffering fatigue from driving for hours.
During the night between waking and sleep, I was sleeping on my side when I had a strange outer body experience. I had not had them for years. Strange in the past it was always the sensation was being sucked out through my chest and floating above my body.
This encounter was very different this time I was feeling being sucked out of my physical body through my back but my body was resisting. Then came an awful sensation I was being dragged out of my body through my feet. I was partial out of my body awake or at least I thought I was as my eyes was flickering very fast and could not see properly. I saw a strange light if I was being drawn to it. It was a white light misty shape float into the room like fog yet in the center there was flash of green and red.
Was I suffering from acute sleep Apnea? Or and outer body experience or some some thing else picked up from my visit earlier in the day at this strange house on the highway.... Perhaps it was just all the strange dream. For me I have no real answers....
Only questions....
Kanacki
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Ironic is it not posting here again continuing the yarn started here 3 years ago to the day. Ironic as its once again St valentines day. Where lovers celebrate their love and for others to lament its passing. Strange enough the old house on the freeway was catalyst for 12 months sickness and ill health. Some would say perhaps punishment for waiting 20 nearly odd years to for full a dead mans promise?
Regardless the story of the old house by the freeway gives us lessons that can be learned through our own lives, our own lost loves and what perhaps what could of been? Was the house haunted?
Perhaps the ghost that haunts there is ghost of our own forgotten memories. The first crush, the first kiss, the relationship that could of bloomed but never did or the passing of long time love affair.... How fitting it is that on a day like to day a celebration for lovers and those who remiss.....
The old house by the freeway is in some respects a powerful metaphor as we speed past on the highway of life giving the old house a fraction of glance as we do in our own reflection in requiem of a lost love.
Kanacki
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KANACKI, I will tackle this Post, hopefully tomorrow as it deserves my total attention.
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Hello Simon
Did the old house build up negative energy over time resulting in my visit in which my perceptions was already precharged over several years resulting in me taking negative energy away with me and my elderly parent later that evening where I have an OBE and mun had a serious decline in cognitive skills since that visit earlier in the day.
Or just a coincidence after having a long day associating events that happened earlier in day with what later happened at night in the hotel room?
I am not sure? But I know some thing was dragging my spirit out of body, through my feet as if I was being dragged off the bed and saw white and red flickering light float through the hotel room.
Kanacki
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KANACKI, I cannot see or read anything relating to negative energy that you either had taken from or left at the old house.
As I read the story I felt my own energy fill with a great deal of positive energy, uplifting each time I re-read your wonderfully written in all honesty.
The time you left the Rose, which had, over-time, been flattened was, in reality and from the energy that I felt reading this story, at least two times creates a wonderful story of love, which continued in the spiritual world, at the point that the elderly gentleman (and a gentleman he was).
At the point his spirit crossed over a very loving (his only love in this life) person was waiting to greet him.
I believe, the leaving of the letter and the crushed Rose, at the run-down house, had nothing to do with the meeting of these two spirits, when he was still alive in the physical world and the immediate love between the two spirits, which continued in the spiritual world, was a "Test" on your belief of firstly the man's story, when no doubt others would have just dismissed him, tied your spirits together as much to his journey as it is your journey.
Even though it took you some time to finalise the request of the dying man, you did indeed fulfil your part of the request, thus enabling you to advance in your journey.
It was a beautiful tale, one which will remain with both my physical and spiritual self for perhaps many lifetimes, both in the physical and spiritual worlds.
A truly heartfelt story KANACKI.
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Hello Simon
I am glad you appreciated the events. Some times karma can take a long time to complete to it conclusion. I like to think somewhere some how I had made a difference. Not only those of a dying mans request for a symbolic gesture for a lost love. But for my own journey and karma.
Perhaps all of us on the journey of life have regrets of things we should have done or not done, and even our own lost loves that could of been....
The old house sitting sadly neglected by the freeway of live is reminder to us all that some things should not be forgotten? The ghost of the past not is not only of the dying old man's request but our own lost loves.
Kanacki
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Quite true KANACKI, I guess that is why our journey in our next physical life perhaps has, in part, how to live in "the know", so that we don't miss-out on our true loved one.
KANACKI, I am feeling that my spirit is taking over at this point and I have no understanding why but there seems to be some reason why and I am involved in a similar situation.
Sorry KANACKI, but my spirit wants me to stop writing on this Post so that I can meditate for some time, but I am not sure why.
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Hello Simon
I wonder if the house still exists? It has been a while now I have traveled up that way and things seem to be changing fast these days. Or is it I am getting old and time seems to be speeding up?
Kanacki