Personal Parnormal Experiences — written and experienced by Terri J. Garofalo

The Encounter - my first ghostly occurrence

I want to preface this with my state of mine when I had this encounter.

I grew up in a hundred year old farmhouse in New Hampshire. I ran wild through house and the barn that was connected to it, through all the collections of former owners and inhabitants, through the dark cobwebbed cellar, unafraid.  I slept soundly there, never ever having a paranormal experience, never ever being afraid of a boogeyman in the closet. I spent numerous overnights at both my grandparent’s antique homes. Never once did I encounter anything remotely supernatural, unless you want to count Grammy White’s tuna casserole…

Even as a small urchin, I questioned everything. Mom told me about God, Jesus, Mary and the usual stories. She informed me that we must believe all this if we are to get to heaven. I learned early not to ask too many questions, but that didn’t stop me from internally asking… What about the people who were brought up to believe DIFFERENT stories? What about babies who die without hearing about Jesus? What about the people in the jungles? Am I really going to Hell for beating up my little brother? It didn’t make sense that God would leave anybody out. It also occurred to me that it would be really easy to make a “sacred cow” out of my green plasticine clay and call it a God and start up my own movement for the hell of it. So, how do we REALLY know whose story is real? How do we know there is a God and if there is a heaven?

With that jewel in the corner of my thought processes, I went to college, art school. I elected to take philosophy (which is an addictive drug for an analyzer of life such as myself). I wound up with an undeclared minor. I also wound up debunking not only God, but existence altogether. There is absolutely no way you can prove ANY of this is REAL. I left college with THAT jewel in the back of my thought process. It was here, after cleaning my slate beyond all the chalk dust, that I began my spiritual journey. The universe saw fit to offer up some interesting experiences…

My roommates and I were the first to move into this apartment in a newly renovated older home in the South side of Hartford, Ct. It was an old place, circa turn of the century. The gas stove was obviously from that era, mostly rusty, and the pilot lights blew out when you walked by. Lighting the oven required a long match and a brave soul to endure the minor explosion on ignition. All the lights and outlets were wired to one circuit breaker, including the basement light. This meant that the making of toast and coffee simultaneously resulted in the need to go into the eerie, dirt-floored, VERY dark basement with a fistful of birthday candles (former college students can’t afford and are too lazy to purchase substantial candles or flashlights). The cabinets had large holes in the back and raccoon doody scattered around where we were supposed to keep pots and pans. All in all, it was a great apartment!

We not there long, when I began to have weird sensations of being held down in my bed and whispered to. I dismissed it as a possible dream state (could have been sleep paralysis or astral catalepsy as some folks call it). Then my roommate, Keith, casually announced one day, “We have ghosts.”

“No, f#@&**in’, WAY!,” I said, “That’s just great.” As far as my world experience went, even after being a former “In Search Of” addict, there were no such things as ghosts and I was not keen to come to the decision they existed in my own home! My other roommate had the right idea. She just retreated to her room and never came out except for meals and TV.

Keith told me that he had actually seen the alleged haunters walking through the hallway. One was a 40ish man in a suit waving a knife and fork like he was conducting. He was subsequently followed by an older woman, probably his mother. I was really thrilled to discover that we not only had ghosts, but one of them wielded a knife! I knew we were “forked”…

My nights were no better. I was pestered constantly. My bed shook. I was touched. I was really wigged out! I said nothing to anybody. It was all I could do to wrap myself around it all. I actually worked out of my bedroom, as I was a freelance graphic artist. So, I spent an inordinate amount of time there. However, I never truly felt in danger or that I was watched or threatened. So, it never occurred to me to leave.

The evening harassment began to get old. I finally had it and, one morning, blew a gasket. I put my hands on my hips and did my best impersonation of my mother at the height of true annoyance. “LOOK HERE! THIS PLACE WAS A COMPLETE DISASTER WHEN I MOVED IN! IT WAS TOTALLY GROSS! RACOON POOP IN THE CABINETS… I, THAT’S RIGHT, I CLEANED THIS PLACE UP! I MOW THE LAWNS! I EVEN FOUND SOME OF YOUR KNICKNACKS IN THE BASEMENT, CLEANED THEM UP AND PUT THEM HERE ON THE SHELF! THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS HELP OUT AROUND HERE! BUT, LET ME MAKE MYSELF CLEAR – I DON’T EVER, EVER, EVER WANT TO SEE YOU! GOT THAT?!”

I never did see them. And, yes, they did help me out! I had taken an outside freelance job that required me to be up at 5:00am to get up to Massachusetts by 7:00am. I was notorious for miss-setting my alarm clock or forgetting to set it altogether. I was never late for work… I was paranormally wakened by my bed gently shaking at exactly 5:00am each time. While unnerving, it was extremely helpful. I took to thanking my haunting new friends.

One afternoon, I returned from a weekend visit with my boyfriend, Rob – now my husband, in New York, to the lamp being on. My roomies were away and left it on to ward off any potential miscreant invaders. I walked in with an armload of stuff, noticed the lamp, and said aloud (yes, I talk to myself frequently), “I better turn that light off.” I proceeded upstairs with my load. Upon returning, the lamp was off… I checked and re-checked it. It’s a 3-way lamp, so it takes a couple shots to effect a turn-off. I have these lamps today, and they’ve never done that since. Once again, I thanked my official, unseen, roommates.

Another occasion, I returned from New York with a “love letter” from my boyfriend (we would exchange letters when we parted to read later on – not bad for an anti-romantic!). I would always read these in bed and leave them on my nightstand before I went to sleep. The next morning, I woke up to find the letter on top of the jewelry box Rob had made me. It was as if the spirits were asking if that was the same guy who made the box. “Yes, that was him,” I answered tentatively. I figured it was worth a shot to answer a possible inquiry…

I received some otherworldly assistance in putting together a drawing table one day. I tend not to read instructions, they’re usually screwy and I have better luck figuring it out on my own. There were only a few parts involved. On the floor were a couple of bolts, washers and two wingnuts. My assembly was nearly complete when I looked down to discover one of the wingnuts went AWOL. I looked everywhere. There wasn’t really anyplace it could go – no rugs, no furniture to hide under. The floor was clear. I was really ticked to think I had to head back to Caldor to complain or possibly, purchase another wingnut. In the midst of my minor tirade, I noticed I had the legs crossed the wrong way. I dutifully rectified the situation and looked down to discover my wingnut had returned… “Thank you!,” I answered. What else was I supposed to say?

The final bit of excitement was provided while on the phone with Rob one night. I was sitting on my bed chatting away, when my bed suddenly shook like the San Francisco earthquake! It was as if someone grabbed it by the posts and shook it as hard as they could! I leapt off the bed like a cat – I can still feel the backward arcing motion of my body going airborne, the phone still to my ear as I screamed at Rob, “YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT’S HAPPENING!…” I ran downstairs to ask Keith if he felt it. He did not. The shelf below my bedroom that rattled and tipped over knickknacks as you walked by didn’t budge. There were no earthquakes in Hartford that day. No explanation. Rob, thus far, didn’t quite believe what was happening to me in the house. He felt really creeped out when he was there, but he wasn’t persuaded to believe it was haunted. My ghostly buddies thought they would provide some definitive proof. Worked for me! Sheesh!

The historical facts came to light upon visiting our neighbors. Apparently, a school bus driver and his mother lived there. He was an alcoholic and used to drive the kids to school drunk… Fortunately, it never became an issue for him or the kids. However, he had a few too many one night and died of a drunken stupor in MY BEDROOM! Fun!

That certainly explained things. He had no clue he was dead. He couldn’t understand why there was a woman living in his bedroom! His mother must have been following him around trying to get him to realize he was toast and cross over.

Knowing what I know now, I would have liked to help him move on. I’m sure he’s made it by now. I would also like to thank him for the spiritual awakening he led me to. It had quite an impact on my life. I’ve grown immeasurably since and even discovered some latent psychic abilities.

God bless him and take him home. I’ll check in with him later when I get back! Meanwhile, I have a job to do.

 

A Relative Drops In…

Paranormal Experience #2 (yes, I plan to do these in order of ‘appearance’)

Years had passed since my first ghostly encounter. Psychic things had already begun to occur with me – nothing particularly extraordinary. From my first haunted place, I moved to an apartment in Brooklyn where the former resident had buried three husbands (not in the house!) however there was no activity. I bought a condo with no activity. I moved upstate to Red Hook, NY into a small house with no activity.

It was in the Red Hook home, I experienced something unusual. While working at my computer, standing up (I deliberately placed it at counter-top height, because I like to work standing – yeah, I know I’m weird). I was wearing my New York Rangers hockey sweater. It was WAY too big for me and hung heavily below my hips. I felt a tug at the back of the sweater, then a finger-like push and twist into my back… I looked around for my cats as the likely source. They were in the other room asleep. There was nothing physical in the vicinity to catch on my shirt. I called for my husband. I knew he wasn’t home, but it seemed that someone was there. Who else would have touched me? I was alone. It was one of those experiences that ended in a shrug and a resumed launch into the rest of the day.

The next morning I received a call from my mother. Old Uncle Lew had passed the day before.  The light switched on and I mentioned my experience to Mom. We figured it was probably Lew stopping to say goodbye. It made sense. Lew always wore a hearing aid which he turned off so he wouldn’t have to listen to the “relative racket” at Thanksgiving (where I usually saw him). He was not one to talk. In fact, I don’t remember ever having a conversation with him. His idea of a greeting would be to shyly poke you from behind and smile.

I have no proof that he stopped by to say hello on his last day. Why would he choose me? Our relationship was of an un-talkative kid and an equally un-talkative great uncle – though I loved him dearly. He must have figured I’d pass on the information, which I did.

 

Apparition 

Paranormal Experience #3

In 1996, The Netminder (which was me), was wrapping up my hockey chat show, Sweepin’ The Crease… It was just after 9pm and I headed out to the kitchen for my gratuitous glass of water before bed. I chugged it, set down my glass and looked over my dining table to see the unexpected.

The apparition of my brother-in-law hovered over the dining table with his hands folded pensively in front of him. I froze and stared briefly. He was either a little freaked out by being out of his body, or he was nervous about how I would react.

 I can only describe it as an energetic impression of him. It was not a wispy, ghostly kind of vision. It was clearly he.

 Instinctively, I knew what I was seeing, but my brain was in a state of disbelief. I smiled at him, did a little salute as I whipped a turn and toodled into the bedroom. I climbed into bed, put the pillow over my head and the thought out of my mind.

 The next morning my husband called me to tell me my brother-in-law passed around 9pm. It confirmed what I didn’t believe the night before. He was expected to pass, but no one truly believes a 33-year-old will die. Why he chose me to visit? I can only guess he would expect me to be the most receptive and therefore, likely to pass on the message. It was a message I waited 10 years to pass to my sister-in-law. She wasn’t quite ready for the paranormal at the time. I think it’s important to know that our loved ones live on in spirit. That is why many drop in to visit us. Not to frighten, but to say, “Hey, I’m okay! I love you too!”

I am honored to be the messenger.

 

In A Flash…

Paranormal Experience #4

I should note that most of my paranormal experiences seem to occur when I head out for that gratuitous glass of water at night. For some that would be incentive to stay in bed. Hey, if I’m thirsty, I’ll brave the meanest ghost.

We were living in a former schoolhouse in Poughquag, NY. While it was an old building, I hadn’t had any paranormal experiences with the exception of some strange photos we took with streaks of light, that may have been cars passing – a mere curiosity.

 I had already gone to bed when I decided I required water. I headed down the stairs only to see a light on the landing at the level someone would be if they were looking out the window. It appeared to notice me and in a flash zoomed out through the living room heading for the front door.

I backed up a few steps in fear and called for Rob, who was quite annoyed to be awakened at that hour. What scared me was not the possibility of a ghost, but the idea that an electric fire could be in progress. I rushed down to feel the walls around the light switch on the landing. The weather was no conducive to ball lighting that evening or I would have assumed that to be the culprit.

I was left with something I couldn’t explain. It looked to me like I had surprised someone holding a candle or lantern that came off the street to check out the place. This person was looking out the window when they saw me, then fled out the door. Who or whatever it was certainly surprised me! I’ve never backed up from anything paranormal before or since. I never saw anything like that light anomaly in that house again.

Recently I came across a local ghost story that talked about a spirit on a street in Poughquag who used to randomly walk into people’s homes. It wasn’t tied to any of them. It was just wandering around. It fits nicely with my tale. Just circumstantial evidence I’m afraid, but fun to speculate.

I still don’t know what that was…

  

My Haunted Home In Poughquag

Paranormal Experience #5 and then some!

This is a Multi-Paranormal Experience…

In our travels around the neighborhood where we rented the schoolhouse, we came across a little 1850s house on 7.9 acres of land that called to us. It was a welcoming place that needed a little loving care to put it in order. We purchased it and set about convincing the trout stream in the basement to follow the B-Dry path to a better destination.

Before we moved in, while painting the living room, I began to realize we were not alone. I smelled the pungent odor of pipe smoke wafting up from the basement stairs surrounding me as I my brush graced the antique molding. My previous encounters with spirits encouraged me to make dopey conversation. “I thought I’d give the living room a fresh coat of paint,” I said to the “empty” room.

I do not smoke; neither does my spouse. It was cold out, so the windows and doors were closed. That did not stop me from going outside to see if anyone was walking along the country road, smoking. No one was there.

Another incident with the pipe odor happened on the porch when I arrived to continue my painting enterprise. Again, I walked around the property, looked up and down the street. No one. It was unlikely we had a delivery, since we weren’t occupying the house yet. It was too early for most people to be about.

We were not alone… at least I felt there was someone there. It was definitely not a threatening entity. It appeared not to mind our presence. The overall feel of the home was warm and friendly… something I will always remember about the place.

We moved in. I’m not sure how long we were there when it happened… (Let me backtrack a bit: My husband, Rob, didn’t believe in ghosts. However, he did not ditch me when I mentioned the fun and excitement I had in my Hartford apartment. He never called me crazy, but he wasn’t about to admit to the paranormal either.) Rob worked in Brooklyn and had a long commute to his business. He would get up before the sun rose and be on the road to beat the traffic. I would get up with him so we could have coffee together in bed. That morning we were enjoying our coffee in the ensuing quiet of the darkness.

I saw a wisp of light trail up above the bathroom door in front of me. I did not say a word. Suddenly, Rob says, “DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

 “I SAW THAT! DID YOU SEE THAT?!,” I replied.

We tried to debunk it by watching car lights, checking out every angle and possibility. We had no explanation. It was paranormal. It was also Rob’s first experience. Suddenly, he understood what I had been talking about all these years.

Soon after that, poor Rob was told to, “GET OUT!” by a male spirit. Rob was a tad wigged out. Fortunately, he wasn’t spooked too badly.

There was one experience that was a little intimidating. Watching television one night, the ceiling light cover somehow came crashing down with such a force it seemed as if someone had yanked it down. We were a little unnerved, and totally surprised it didn’t break. Was it paranormal? I’m not sure, but the way it came down was suspect. It took a bit of an angle trajectory, fortunately away from me as I was sitting on the floor nearly under it.

Then we noticed the sounds of someone rummaging in the closet at night. Every time we went downstairs to check it out, it stopped. The cats were sleeping. There was only one closet and it was closed and undisturbed. This went on each night for quite some time until a fellow showed up with the old gun that belonged to a former owner of the house. He had it because the weekenders who we bought the place from had given it to him. He had no use for it and felt it belonged to the house. I thanked him and promptly put the gun in a niche just wide enough for it next to the bookcase. That night, there was no more closet rummaging. I never asked that guy if he had any ghostly activity while the gun was in his possession. Sorry I didn’t!

Some time after that, a woman came by to have a look at the house who used to know the old lady, Mrs. Yanker, who lived there prior to the weekenders. One of the remarks she made was, “Oh my! You keep her gun just where she used to put it!” …in the little niche next to the bookcase.  Apparently, she kept her bullet case in the closet, where we unwittingly returned it.

We were treated to stories of Mrs. Yanker, by the folks up the hill who knew her well. Apparently, Elizabeth Yanker was a bit of a “pioneer” lady. She hunted deer, shot them from the porch and smoked them in the smokehouse. She refused to use the indoor bathroom thinking that plumbing was somehow dangerous. She preferred the outhouse. She also cooked in the beehive oven in the basement with the trout stream. She also was a welcoming sort and didn’t mind guests and visitors.

She hated cats… My cat ZEEK! would just cry out as if someone was staring him down right in the face. He was pretty freaked out by the place for a while. My other two were less intimidated and would calmly watch wisps of grey mist that I would see also.

We were not long there when I began to hear a clicking in the bedroom at night. Rob had gone off to Florida to visit his mother. I was alone… with the clicking. I figured out that it was the drawer pulls on the desk. Someone or something was either trying to open the drawers or amusing themselves by lifting the latches and letting them fall. Rob returned home to witness the nightly click-fest. It was slightly obnoxious, but not frightening.

One morning, after my shower, I came up to get dressed. I was in close proximity to the desk. I actually witnessed the drawer pull rise and fall. I walked right over to it and opened the drawer in question. In there was my great grandmother’s antler-handled carving set from her wedding. The desk, in the previous house, was next to the kitchen, so I kept the set there. Now it really didn’t belong in the bedroom. I said to myself (aloud of course), “I need to put this in the breakfront downstairs.” Once I did that, we had no more desk clicking…

So was that Great Grandma Comerford expressing herself? Or was it just a conscientious spirit trying to get me to put things right?

Then came the remodeling ideas… We asked an architect to come up with a way to gain more space. He did a walk-though and began suggesting knocking out walls, etc. The following day, it sounded as if someone was tearing down the bookcases! It was quite a ruckus! I charged into the room, to find everything in order. It happened again later on. I finally assumed someone was upset with the idea of knocking out walls. I said aloud, “I didn’t like that guy’s idea either. We won’t ruin the integrity of this house.” The noise never happened again.

That was a good thing. Later on we finished the basement, knocking out walls, etc. Not a peep from the entity; I guess they approved. We got some much-needed space.

A time came when we needed home for my horse and his buddy. We had torn the old barn down early on when it was determined to be unsafe and irreparable. We hired a fellow and his crew to design a pole barn with a hayloft. This fellow was quite talented. However, he was a bit of a drinker and had some prior history with tougher substances. A nicer person you’d never meet. The barn was finished and was his pride and joy. We allowed him to come by unannounced to show it to prospective clients who would want barns.

He stopped to visit one day. I could tell he was not himself. It was his birthday. He was 40 years old. He told me he was surprised he lived this long. I wish I had the sense to pick up on the gist of what he was telling me…

It was another weekend where Rob flew to Florida on a Friday. I was able to pinpoint the date because of the airline ticket. I was alone in the barn tacking up my horse for a ride. Beej was young at the time and prone to spooking. I hiked up the saddle and as I turned to get the bridle, a big nail holding up the chain I hung my halters on FLEW OUT OF THE WALL, ACROSS THE ROOM!  Everything consequently fell. My horse didn’t flinch. It was as if he expected it. I hunted high and low for that nail. Nails are very dangerous to horses’ feet. I never found that nail and I keep a clean barn! I mentioned it to Rob when he called that evening. We both felt it was out of the ordinary. Especially since I hammer in nails really well! Besides Sir Isaac Newton says gravity doesn’t drag things sideways.

We tried to get in touch with the fellow who built the barn to do some more work. He would never call back. Finally, his mother answered. She told us that he died. I found out later from a mutual friend that he committed suicide on the very day the nail shot out of my barn. I never had another experience in the barn. I pray he crossed and I think he did. I think about him often. I wish I could have made a difference.

On an amusing note, Rob and I were discussing him. Suddenly a hearty, stinky odor came from the bathroom… our plumbing was fine, venting was fine. Interestingly enough, our builder pal used to come off the hill in a hurry in the morning asking to use the bathroom. I knew he felt bad about it and I never said anything, but you couldn’t go near the bathroom for quite some time after he finished his business in there… phew! To think, some spirits resort to floral phantom smells.

Odors aside, we also had our share of orbs. Paranormal investigators like to talk about orbs not being actual evidence of spirit activity. If those guys saw what we saw on a regular basis, they might change their minds. Early in the morning, around 3-4am we would often see orbs. They were yellow, orange, and sometimes bluish. These anomalies had their own light source. It was nothing like the car lights, or the glow from the thermostat. Around 3-4 inches in diameter, they were pretty substantial. Usually appearing around the bathroom door or staircase at about 3-4 feet off the floor, they would be fairly stationary. I rolled over one night to see one at eye-level by my nightstand. It was a nice orange one. I just rolled over and went back to bed. It never occurred to me to catch them on video or camera at the time.

Later on I did break out the video for some orb hunting. I ran through the tape. I never got the orb, but I did get footsteps that sounded like pacing, back and forth and up and down the stairs. I’m just grateful it wasn’t loud enough to hear or I would never have gotten any sleep there! Unfortunately, in desperation for an 8mm tape, I used that one to record my cousin’s wedding. Alas, evidence is lost and we’re left with a story.

Living in that house for over 10 years was a pleasant experience. We were never unduly frightened – at least much. The last experience I had while living there was after a Yoga Nidra (meditation) session. I got up from the floor took off my sweatshirt and tossed it into the chair. The chair flew against the wall as if my sweatshirt weighed several pounds more than it should. I checked it out. It was a heavy Queen Anne chair that took a bit for force to slam backwards. The rough tile floor was not conducive to sliding and was level where the chair resided. I couldn’t explain it. Perhaps my sweatshirt gained 30 pounds in flight?

The Investigation

Just after we moved from the house, the paranormal group I belong to, Obsideo Research of Beyond, joined me in an investigation of the property. They were aware of my experiences. A few of them are quite psychic. What they came up with was unexpected.

One of the members smelled the pipe smoke. I did not that evening.

I was certain Mrs. Yanker was the culprit. Well, that’s not what one psychic picked up. He went directly upstairs, drawn to a male spirit in the attic bedroom. He was getting a “J” name, like Jim. We asked for a knock response to questions. One of these questions I asked for a knock to the correct surname. I rattled off all the names of all the former owners back to 1850. When I hit the name Cook, I got a knock. Later review of the audio evidence revealed an answer of “yes” after the knock. I also asked if he was responsible for the pipe smoke. I received another knock and a “yes” on the evidence. Our psychic experienced his camera strap being tugged. We weren’t able to document that unfortunately.

Later I confirmed on the deed that a John Cook was the first listed owner of the property, probably the builder of the house.

We headed up the hill to the barn. Our psychic got wind of another entity, a stringy-black-haired, stocky fellow with a nasty attitude. I was asked if there was a grave plot on the hill. There was none to my knowledge. He insisted that someone was buried on the hill. Apparently, the angry entity had died falling from a horse onto a large rock as the horse spooked into the ravine. Now, our psychic had never been to the top of my hill. From the perspective of the barn, it goes straight up. If you go near the top, the terrain drops into a gully. Yes, there are a couple of substantial rocks there. He would have not known about that ravine unless he’d been there prior.

This irate individual was incensed because his body wasn’t returned to his home. I guess there wasn’t enough money to send him. He was also angry that his green metal box of stuff was missing. He would not rest until his body was brought home or his box of goodies was buried with him. After all these years, I can’t imagine how anyone was going to come up with his green box of stuff. Besides, who knows where the heck his body is? This guy was pretty threatening according to the psychic. All I could think is that might have played a part in why my horse was so nervous up on that hill where we rode.

We didn’t catch any audio evidence around the barn. Got some nice dust orbs though! Some looked interesting enough for me to put up on my site.

In the basement, we got an EVP of our male spirit, probably Mr. Cook, saying the name of the former owner “Elizabeth” twice. It was right after we had a conversation about Mrs. Yanker.

All this time I thought I was hanging out with Mrs. Yanker and it turns out it was Mr. Cook! If Mrs. Yanker was there, she was too shy to come forward.

Some time after the investigation, I went back for a final EVP session.

I asked Mr. Cook if he built the house and if liked what we did to it. I got a “yes” for each question.

I then told him that he didn’t need to stay there and should cross to the light to be with his family who are waiting for him.

I mentioned the man on the hill. I told him if that happened when he was alive, and if that was keeping him here that is was not his fault. That he was not responsible for that. As I said this, I could feel an enormous waive of guilt in my heart center. There was a rush of emotion I couldn’t explain.

I asked him to cross. He responded on the EVP “I am.” I told him again to cross. He said again, “I am.”

Then I felt as if he left. It was an overwhelming emotion of a joy so powerful it caused tears.

If I indeed sent him home, I was honored to do so. I spent over 10 years with this person. It was only fitting that he be released from whatever was holding him here.

As far as Mr. Stringy-Hair? He seemed too stubborn to get off his high horse and go home. I gave him the information. He gave me a headache in my “third eye.” One day he may decide to just give up the ghost.