Saturday, 24 September 2011

The Power of the Mind

Ever been on an investigation and scared yourself silly just because you let your imagination get out of control? I think most of us have at some point. Usually on lone vigils and when faced with a personal fear (ie heights, the dark, spiders etc). It isn't just our conscious mind that plays these tricks on us though. The other night I had a dream, or rather nightmare, that woke me up in such a state of fear that I could move even enough to wake my other half sleeping calmly next to me.

The dream itself was not the hollywood horror of gore that passes for a scary movie these days, but instead was akin to the horrors of yesteryear, where suspense was created off stage. A noise, a movement in the shadows; the thumping heart of 'not knowing'.

In the dream it was night and I was in a bedroom, not unlike my own. It was dark and I sensed something in the shadows, moving only enough to allow me to doubt it. It was so quiet I was sure I could hear my heart beat, a rhythm that became louder and louder with every passing moment. As I tried to sink lower in the bed, pretending not to have seen 'it', my covers seemed to be resisting my subtle attempts to bring them up to my head. I pulled harder, but there was something pulling back. With a rush of fear to my stomach I realised that 'it' was trying to pull the covers from me and I would no longer be able to pretend. That scared me even more. I was sure that once I admitted it was there it would be free to attack. What form this 'attack' would take didn't come into my mind; all I knew was that I couldn't escape.

Then it hit me. I was alone in a dark room, with a real ghost and I couldn't leave....

Blood was rushing in my ears, my body was frozen and my heart was beating so hard I felt I was about to stop breathing.  I was in the middle of my nightmare and I couldn't wake up - but then I did. My blood was rushing in my ear, my body was so frozen in terror that I couldn't move any of my limbs and my heart felt as though it was about to bounce out of my chest as I lay there. The dream had been so real to me that it was some time before I got the use of my body back and even longer before I slept again.

It may not sound frightening in the cold light of day, but for me it haunts me. Not because the dream was violent or bloody, but because it cut to the heart of my fears. When I go into a haunted house it is not seeing a ghost or hearing a bang from another room that sends a shiver down my spine. Its the thought of being alone in a room with something I can't understand - and not being able to raise the alarm or get myself out. That it may interact with me and I will be powerless to stop it.

Sunday, 15 May 2011

The Co-op, Cottenham

Cottenham, Cambridgeshire

An older aquaintance of mine was born in a house opposite the old co-op shop, seen here as it was at the time. (It has now been replaced with a hideous piece of modern shop architecture - but is still a co-op) In his time it had always been the co-op, but previously it was a Nunnery. The upstairs was divided into separate sleeping cubicles by wooden partitions. A relation of his was the manager of the shop and lived above the shop. When this relation got older ( the villagers have a reputation for thriftiness still!) he sawed up the partitions to burn on his fire, so sadly were lost. However a nun has been seen on several occassions by several people (including my aquaintance) in the vicinity of the building and walking infront of the modern co-op.


The Mennock Hills and Weasel Funerals....

The Mennock Hills and its Weasel Funerals

In the 1930s legend has it that a night watchman at the smelt mills of Wanlockhead watched several weasels remove a dead weasel and carry it off. Intrigued, he investigated with another local and they found the body of the freshly buried weasel and along side it the 'graves' of several other weasels. Some already skeletal. The removal of a dead weasel has been seen in more recent times by a driver on the Mennock Pass. he noticed a 'road kill' weasel being carried off by other weasels. It was only talking about it afterwards that he was told the story of the 1930s incident....

Monday, 7 February 2011

The Struggler's Inn, Lincoln

Clarke's Dog

The Strugglers Inn, Lincoln is said to be haunted by the ghost of this little fellow. His owner, William Clarke, was executed for murder at Lincoln castle. After the execution the dog used to return to the pub looking for his master, whinning and scratching around. Soon afterward the dog himself died and was stuffed by the landlord. It was then that the spectral hound started being seen around the pub and castle precinct. Sounds of a pitiful, howling hound  have also been heard. The dog was kept at the pub for many years, but can now be seen in the castle museum - illustrating the story of his masters crime.
Posted by Picasa

Wednesday, 26 January 2011

Apologies for absense....

I realise I have been absent for a little while and I am awfully sorry. I have not suddenly stopped visiting paranormal places, nor have I found 'the truth' and so stopped searching.... I have been packing! We are in fact moving from Cambridgeshire to Galloway in Scotland. We are going for a change in lifestyle and I am hoping it will allow me more time to write about my interests - ie the paranormal! I have a backlog of photos to upload and work on my ghostly gazetteer is way behind, so there is much to do :-) Keep tuned via this blog or our facebook group and you'll be the first to know how we progress.