Ghosts and the Para-normal. By a one-time sceptic.

I have felt a call lately to write about the After-life, Para-normal and now, about Ghosts. I was once a sceptic of the greatest kind.

Most of that changed in around 1976 when I experienced my first of a series of para-normal episodes.

I have alluded previously to a few experiences where my dreams, when they come 3 in a row, have come true. Scarily true, to the detail. These have always occurred three nights running, same dream, same detail and same end result, namely me waking in total fear. After having 2 dreams in a row I fear the third. Sometimes the third dream doesn't happen. But sometimes it has, with predictable result. After the third, the events in the dream invariably do happen. 

There are several stories which are related in detail in the book I currently have underway. But I have decided to share with you the following extract from one section. This part of the book started with a series of dreams, which culminated in the following true event. The location is an old Post Office Building in Adelaide, South Australia. I had just moved into this building as my new home. The year is 1986. In the meantime, I had experienced several para-normal experiences, each one just as true.

Then there was the night when it all changed.

As I lay in bed in the small morning hours, I began to hear noises. Banging, then sliding. The old casement windows in the house were being slid up and down, banging down. The light in the middle hall area came on and I could see the outline of it at our bedroom door.  Then it went off, but the noise went on, elsewhere in the house. I leapt from the bed, terrified. I couldn’t hear anything anymore due the loud sound of the blood rushing through my head.  I grabbed the only protection I could find, which oddly enough, was my squash racquet. I yelled in fear as I jumped out from the bedroom into the darkness, but almost no yell came out, quashed in terror.  I leapt from room to room, this time not turning on the lights with the peculiar notion that maybe whatever it is can't see me so  easily in the dark! Half leaping, half sneeking, I squealed my way from room to room towards the front section of the house, with my squash racquet poised and flailing madly in the dark.

As I made my way back past the bedroom toward the back of the house, I saw the thing that frightened me most. The light was on in my children’s bedroom, and the door was shut. That light was off and the door open, as I passed by only moments before. Thank God my children were not staying there that night. But more the reason why I knew that that door was always left open, as a gesture. And the light was definitely not on when we went to bed.

As I held my head near the door, I could hear the bedroom window slide.  Either someone is coming in or going out, so either way, now is the time.  Without hesitating any longer I drew a breath and slammed the door open, yelling, kicking, flailing my racquet before me, brandishing myself at anything that might move.

I will never forget how cold it was, that room. I will never forget how bright it was either, with the single light bulb hanging there blazing away making the room look large and drab. But I will also never forget the emptiness, the strange feeling of wonder that took over my body when I realized that the room was completely empty of any extra terrestrial beings, or any normal human beings for that matter. And I will never forget the fact that the window sash was down and locked.

But over and above all of those things, I will never forget the writing that had suddenly appeared on the wall and window. It was written in a sticky, clear resin.

It read, “I am going to kill myself”.

Many years later, I ran into the then owner of the building. He was a gruff Greek investor. He happened to be at a party I attended. For the first time ever, we had a chat and a drink. He asked me the real reason why I had left the tenancy early. Having the time, I explained in detail the series of events that lead to leaving that property. As my story progressed, George's hair stood further and further on end.

He was quite pale. Then he explained.

"Ned, I have heard that story about 5 times now, from different tenants. Each one ending the same way. Until now I had doubted the stories or maybe the story tellers. But everything you have just told me, is identical to the combined experiences of those other tenants. Every one of those people told me the same story and left the building in a hurry without ever wanting to go back."

Ned Hoskin


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