This was a long time ago, when I was a wee lad of 14 (the age of my youngest son now). I was visiting my mother in a desert town in Southern California.
I was accustomed to seeing and hearing things that others did not by this age and usually kept them to myself. But I was about to encounter something that would transcend any previous experience.
My mother and uncle were looking for a place to rent together in this nostalgic mountain town some 25 minutes away from their current city. They were both hippies and thought it would “groovie” to have a home off the main, winding road. I accompanied them.
I started getting odd feelings as we pulled up to this beautiful log cabin home. As I got out of the car, the owner of the cabin approached my mother and uncle. He was trying to be calm, but his aura was very erratic and flashing various colors. Although he had ‘that adult poker’ face that we teenagers never seemed to be able to pull off, I could tell he was worried about something.
After friendly greetings, we walked into the living room, which was downstairs. The house seemed pleasant enough. It was a bright, sunny day outside and it lit the room up. But there was still an atmosphere of foreboding. It felt very heavy. There was one, unremarkable bedroom downstairs.
As we walked upstairs, I got chills and my skin started to crawl. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. We entered an open bedroom that took up the entire top floor. The room was divided into 2 levels, with one raised level toward the front of the house having a bed in it, surrounded by large windows. The sunlight was pouring in. It should have been magnificent sight. It was not.
At 14, my psychic vision was still very active. I could see the vivid outline of a man hanging in the middle of room, about a foot from where this room divided. I got flashes in my mind’s eye of a man with long, dark hair and a goatee. He was shirtless and had anchored a rope from one of the exposed beams above and hung himself.
I was so shocked I froze as the three adults continued into the room, seemingly oblivious to the man hanging in the middle of room. I struggled with the urge to run out of the house immediately. But since my mother, uncle and the other man walked into the room, I slowly followed.
I could feel pain and anguish emanating in waves off this figure. His girlfriend had left him because of his drug and alcohol abuse and he felt absolutely hopeless. In desperation, he hung himself in an attempt to end the pain. To his surprise, it did not. He simply destroyed his body, but not his consciousness.
He was clearly still there and not moved on. He seemed somewhat aware that we were there, but trapped in his own subjective hell, relieving the night he hung himself over and over. The regret was palpable. I could tell that he had killed himself very recently.
You know how it is when you’re a teenager and everyone is telling you that these perceptions are your imagination! So I attempted to ignore the figure and moved toward it. The sadness, regret and hopelessness intensified to the point where I could feel it pulsating on my skin. I slowly backed away and started to head outside.
My mother finally noticed and asked me what was wrong. Living in our anti-psychic culture I simply said, “Nothing. I just need some fresh air.”
I walked outside and waited for everyone else to exit the house. We got in the car and drove away. My uncle finally asked me what had me so spooked. I didn’t want to answer him. My mother, being more intuitive (and the one I received my abilities from), asked me what I had seen. The hair on the back of my neck was still standing up.
I told her. She pondered for a second, seeming to search her memory and finally said, “He was hanging where you were standing, wasn’t he?”
All I could manage to do was nod yes.
My uncle finally piped in and said, “There was definitely something creepy about that place. I don’t think we should rent it.”
All three of us compared notes about the owner. It became obvious he was concerned we might sense something. I believe he was the one who found his hanged tenant.
My mother agreed to pass on the house and I did my best to forget about it and enjoy the beautiful natural environment. But the entire rest of trip, my thoughts kept going back to that poor man and what would become of that lost soul.