The Paranormal Housewives were fortunate indeed to have been invited to investigate the Olivas Adobe, as guests of Rob Wlodarski (founder of the International Paranormal Research Organization) and Richard Senate. This was a dream come true for us, since we had always wanted to conduct a formal investigation of the first and second floors. As a team and as individuals, we had experienced odd phenomena on the grounds themselves (and I had my first ghost sighting there), and we had always wondered what would happen if we could wander the rooms themselves. As it turned out, there was intense activity that none of us expected.

The Olivas Adobe was completed in 1851 by Don Raymundo Olivas. He and his wife, Teodora, lived there with their 21 children until 1899. More information on the history of the Olivas Adobe is available at http://www.cityofventura.net/olivasadobe. There are many stories of days-long fiestas at the adobe, bandit attacks and the requisite buried treasure (some say on the property, others say somewhere between Ventura and Santa Barbara), mistreatment of servants and other domestic scandals. Of course, there are ghost stories; usually the ‘lady in black’ appears either in the children’s bedroom upstairs or along the front of the house on the second floor. The authority both on the Olivas’ history and the ghost stories is Richard Senate. Here is a link to one of his pages: http://www.hauntedamericatours.com/ghosthunting/hauntedcities/RichardSenate’hauntedPlace.php

I don’t have the decades of experience that Mr. Senate does, but my ghost story parallels one of his own in interesting ways. A few years back, my husband and I paid a visit to the Olivas Adobe around dusk. He had always wanted to see it, and I was curious what impressions I could pick up from the grounds. The bathrooms were locked, and my dear husband needed to relieve an overly full bladder. He chose to water the 120+ year-old fuchsia bush. As he was thusly engaged, I looked towards the end of the first floor, open hallway and down by the door I saw woman dressed in black, with a high collar made of lace. She wore her hair back in a severe bun. She was clearly from the Victorian era, and even though this was a flash, almost something akin to a mental impression or projection, I  made note of her features. Later, I looked up information on the adobe for the first time, and there she was: Teordora Olivas, looking as stern in her picture on the Internet as she did back at her home.

 That night, Richard Senate was telling ghost stories to the Paranormal Housewives and related one in particular that sent chills up my spine. A group of investigators were wandering the grounds when one of them–a police officer from Oxnard–relieved his overly full bladder on the 120 year-old fuchsia bush. At that moment, he saw an angry woman dressed in black glaring at him from the window of the sewing room. He thought at first that she was an actual living person, but discovered later that no one was in the rooms. Apparently, Teodora Olivas was mightily unhappy that her prized fuchsia was treated in such a brute manner. It is so rare for one’s stories to find corroboration, but this was definitely one of those moments.

The investigation itself had some fascinating moments. The PHW focused on the sewing room downstairs before joining the ITC session in the living room. The first odd phenomenon that we noticed was the intense EMF energy emanating–from all places–the “laying out couch,” where bodies were laid to rest for the ‘velorio’ or wake. The meter spiked to red and stayed there. We noticed that this overwhelming energy extended upwards in a kind of column to the second floor. Mr. Senate confirmed that the adobe has no internal wiring that would explain that reading, nor do any of the automatic lights emit enough EMF to affect the meters. The readings fluctuate everywhere except on the couch itself, which remains a solid red. How this happens is a mystery to us all. We simply are at a loss to explain it.

This also happens to be the only room where we captured our EVPs. Both consist of labored whispering under our voices, apparently close to the recorder. Even though there were people in the other room, they never approached the recorder and their voices sound nothing like what we hear in these two audio clips. If you can make out a sentence, please let us know what you hear. This room was buzzing with emotion. It makes sense if one considers the number of people who passed on in the adobe and were “laid out” on that sofa. If the soul lingers by its body for a short time after physical death, we might be picking up remnants of those fragmented consciousness.

In addition to heavy, disorienting feelings in the sewing room (which might be due to the high EMF readings), both Marsha and I felt similar emotions in the pantry just off the kitchen. Although we didn’t expect this or understand it, we experienced both anger and sadness. Why we would pick that up in the pantry didn’t make sense until Mr. Senate confirmed (without us communicating our impressions) that there was a rape and assault in that very area.

 One of the most impressive personal experiences occurred while we were sitting in the chapel, facing the bedroom. Marsha and Erin saw figures peering around the door to the children’s bedroom. They were half adult height, leading them to believe that these were child spirits. Later, Mr. Senate told us that there was once a staircase leading from the ‘laying out’ room up to the main bedroom, which would explain the location of the forms we were witnessing. It’s as if a column of spiritual energy rose from the bottom floor near the active couch up through the master bedroom. All of our experiences happened in that area.

 Erin and Marsha heard a little girl’s voice in the chapel. Since they both have little girls, I think that they are specially attuned for that kind of manifestation. As for myself and other team members, we can say that the entire property has an energy to it that pops into existence in various forms. Lately, my abilities have been more of an empathetic nature, which has its down side. The feelings in the pantry area were almost unbearable.

It was not all parties and domestic bliss at the Olivas. In fact, there is a considerable heaviness to the property and surrounding gardens that belies any notion of peace and harmony. Its very history is testament to that fact. I think about Teodora and her 22 children, frustrated and lashing out at her servant girls (as Mr. Senate recounted, she would pull their hair and slap them when displeased), wondering when her husband was planning on returning home and desperately trying to protect her home and small fortune from marauders and thieves. No, that was certainly not an easy life, and remnants of that life continue to haunt the Olivas to this day.

–Kirsten A. Thorne, Ph.D/PHW

EVP analysis: The following clips were all from the initial investigation in the sewing room, otherwise know as the “laying out” room where the recently deceased awaited burial. This was near the beginning of the evening, and only Marsha, Erin and myself were present in the room. In the background, Rob and his team were conducting ITC sessions and were loud enough and far enough away to be easily identifiable. Although the clips may not contain decipherable words or sentences (at least, I can’t make out any), they are compelling in their own way. As always, please feel free to comment or submit your own analyses.

040712 Olivas Odd Whisper in Laying Couch Room

040712 Olivas Under Voices Sewing Room

040712 Olivas Voice in Sewing Room

The Paranormal Housewives investigate lots of haunted homes and buildings. Every once in awhile, we question whether or not to hunt for ghosts in our own homes. Do we want to know if we also live with the paranormal? Would it be another exciting adventure, or . . . really creepy?

 I live as a divorced, single mother in an old home with my 8-year-old daughter. For now, I’ve chosen not to investigate my own home.  But, this week, I took the PHW to a place not as close, but still extremely personal: My Grandma’s house. This was a fascinating thought, but there were also some questions: Was this case too personal for me? Would I possibly make some sort of connection? What If I didn’t? Would I let emotions take over? Would my family even approve?

My beloved Grandma was born in 1917 and was with us until she passed in early January in the home. I know that after my Grandpa died in 1992, she never slept in the master bedroom again. My mom told me that for five years, she thought she heard him coming home when she would hear the sound of a key jiggling in the front door.

 I spent my whole life there every holiday. We had a wonderful blessed family life, and I have the fondest memories of her cooking with her white apron and sparkling clean house. It boasted gorgeous antiques dating as far back as 1750, and she had the most beautiful flowers arranged everywhere.

At 95, she had lived a full life. She was born during the Depression in the “dustbowl” of America. She was raised poor in Missouri and Kansas. She lost both of her siblings as children to diphtheria and pneumonia, and her father left the family to find work and never returned. She traveled to California with her Aunt and Uncle and on her way, experienced Speakeasys and illegal prohibition alcohol. Through it all, she maintained her innocent morals and values.

 She got a respectable job at a soda fountain, went to school, became the Rose Queen of Pasadena, and married my Grandpa. He was a wonderful, handsome and witty man. Together, they lived the “American dream,” along with the three children and white picket fence.

 This wasn’t exactly a sad or angry case. I had no idea what we would find, if anything! I always thought the house was happy and beautiful, but I do remember being afraid of the back master bedroom and middle hallway as a child. Was this because I had a big imagination, or was I experiencing something more? Is something else in the house? Could there be an attachment to some of the furniture? Could the previous owners still be hanging around? Questions, Questions!!

In the picture below, there appears to be a face above the ‘light line’ in the bathroom (Kirsten).

As for my family, they turned out to be very supportive. My mom even joined us at the investigation. We both came in with an open mind, and the investigation turned out great. What we experienced was actually a surprise! Here are some of the experiences and clips of EVPs. I definitely want to go back!

 -Jennifer Storey-Graham

EVP ANALYSIS

Summary: The EVPs from this house were responsive and generally consisted of bangs, taps and other audio phenomena that were heard by the entire group. We caught all of these noises on audio. We are all familiar with the sounds of  houses “settling” and the noises that wood makes when expanding or contracting due to heating and cooling; these, however, did not strike any of us as belonging in that category. There is a resonance to these sounds that give them a “created” or intentional quality. Please listen with headphones and the volume turned up. Any feedback would, as always, be appreciated.

03 17 2012 Jen1tapafterquestion

03 17 2012 Jen2 Pool Tap

(In the EVP below, there was an incredibly loud bang in response to my question. As it turns out, Jennifer’s grandmother did not allow anyone into the back bedroom after her husband died and would have been quite upset that all of us–strangers to her for the most part–had set up camp there.)

03 17 2012 Jen Grandma Big Bang

03 17 2012 Jen4 Whisper   (If you can make out what this whisper says, let us know!!)

03 17 2012 Jen5 Strange Noise  (Unidentified sound)

03 17 2012 Jen6 Front Door Opening  (This is a fascinating story. We were sitting in the hallway, when I heard the sound of footsteps, the jiggling of the front door latch, and then saw the door open wide, very slowly and deliberately. The other ladies saw this, as well. Jennifer and her mother both assumed that the sister had come over and walked in. It turned out that no one was there at all. My thought on this was that Grandmother was disgusted with all of the activity in her house, and she simply walked outside. Perhaps there is another, better explanation; but this episode ranks up there with some of the best phenomena we have experienced as a team.)

03 17 2012 Jen8 Dining Room Tap

03 17 2012 Jen9 Bang after ITC   (There seemed to be some relief when we finished the ITC session)

03 17 2012 Jen 10 Dresser Bang  (This dresser was the locus of much responsive banging. Attachment?)

03 17 2012 Jen 11 Man Talking   (This is rather faint, but it’s a man’s voice. There was only one man with us, Ty, and he was filming, not speaking.)

Can we answer the question of the title, “Are you there, Grandma?” I don’t think any of us can, but it certainly seems that at least for the first half of the investigation, Grandma was indeed there. After the door incident, it was the general impression that someone else was there . . . but it wasn’t Grandma. We may never know who it was, or why they were there.

–Kirsten A. Thorne, Ph.D./PHW

All photos property of flickr.com/thupancic and The Paranormal Housewives

In the picture below, you see a very large orb. OK, we know that orbs are not paranormal; however, this one is pretty huge and rather interesting (Kirsten).

Week Eight at Cam has been darker than normal, and not simply due to my previously stated experiences. I attribute this to the gradual desertion of the students, allowing Cam’s previous energies to resurface and reclaim their territory. Observe the picture below this post.

The hallways are much darker today than normal, even accounting for weather and outdoor lighting conditions. However, I’m not simply referring to the literal sense of dark, but more to the heaviness in the atmosphere here.  It’s freezing cold in all the rooms and halls, in spite of the fact that it’s a pleasant 70 degrees outside. The students freeze in our classroom, even though there is no air conditioning and our room faces a sunny courtyard. It’s as if the warmth simply cannot penetrate these walls. I am always wearing jackets indoors, my hands stiff as I attempt to type.

No one is ever going to change the nature of this place. Maybe it’s the Bell Tower in particular, which housed the criminally insane on the East Side (where I enter the building) with the worst psychiatric illnesses, or the fact that the unruly adolescent boys were incarcerated on the West Side of the Bell Tower; these two groups were, unbelievably enough, mixed together in “Recreation Rooms” and group therapy rooms right in the area where I teach. In fact, from the configuration of my downstairs classroom, it looks to be one of those “common area” rooms where patients mingled and were frequently unsupervised. This toxic comingling of boys and insane men is a fact I gleaned from someone I know who spent a year or so in this very building for “anti-social” behavior.

I think I’ve realized something important. You can’t spend hours in a place with dreary energy from a traumatic past and hope to leave with a smile on your face and a sunny disposition. I should know this, of all people, yet I was seduced into thinking I would find this a mysterious and educational experience; it IS that, and will continue to be, but I find myself needing to conserve my energy. I used to spend much time fine-tuning my sensitivity, opening myself up to the energies around me, consciously seeking contact. Now, I find myself doing the exact opposite just to get through the day at Cam. I work on protection, I attempt to ignore my surroundings, and I even pretend that the place was never a hospital for the so-called ‘insane’.

What also assists me in this work of “tuning out” is the fact that Cam is never the same day to day. You can walk all over the buildings one day with no particular feeling one way or the other, and then the next day, or even later in the evening, the air is thick with mystery and menace. Even though one might object that this is pure emotional projection, I have had my experience of this validated so many times by those with whom I work and investigate that I no longer doubt my impressions.

That is probably the greatest gift of Cam: I no longer doubt my instincts and my sensitivity to my surroundings. After several years of investigations and explorations, no one can tell me that what I sense isn’t real. Anyone who tells me that I am “projecting,” “inventing” or fulfilling some fantasy or wish no longer upsets my confidence or causes me to question my abilities. I have become, for wont of a better work, “sensitive” or “a sensitive,” and that is a very real transformation. I have a certain limited and rudimentary ability to see into the past and peer into the future. With time, I expect that skill will increase in power and precision. I only hope that I will find some mentors and guides along the way, so that darkness does not infect me at the deepest level.

The mental hospital wants to grab onto anyone that can feel it. It affects even those who deny its reality as a living memory. I started out wishing for nothing more that to be a witness to the paranormal. Now, I have to protect myself from it.

When I first decided I wanted to be a Paranormal investigator, my friends who know how super busy I am, always asked “Doesn’t it take a lot of time? How do you do it when you are already so busy?” Well, you would assume you’d slow down or drop other activities, but no, not really. I actually found that I am able to hold onto all the other things I have going in my life, and there is a lot, and be able to pursue becoming a paranormal investigator. Most of you already know that being a paranormal investigator is a huge commitment. It is exhilarating and exciting; I could do it every day if given the chance, but it really takes a lot of time and dedication. All of this has not been clearer than now, as our team has grown and evolved and we are busier than ever. Each of the Paranormal Housewives has an extremely busy day-to-day life: kids, family, work. Sometimes we are so busy it’s hard to imagine how we can add ghost hunting into our daily lives…but somehow we make it work.

THE HUNT FOR A HAUNT:  I feel the hunt for a haunt is one of the most challenging aspects of being an investigator. We all have gone online and looked for “haunted locations” or “haunted B&B”. Or we will be driving in our car and see an abandoned building and wonder if it’s haunted. There is a thrill to a new location that you know absolutely nothing about. But researching the history, speaking to the owners or managers of the location, building a relationship with the “keeper of the keys”, takes a lot of time. So how does one do that when you are sitting in an office all day or shuttling kids back and forth from school and sports? For me, sometimes I’ll have lunch with my non-paranormal friends on the weekend in the “old town” of a random city that I know has a colorful history, then do a little shopping and start asking questions of the shop owners. Before you know it, some shop owner knows another shop owner, whose cousin’s house is haunted, and it’s just up the road and across the street from the haunted library! Since Erin works from home it’s simple for her to look for locations on the internet (I have spent hours doing this myself; extremely addicting). She will find a location and start making calls. Marsha is usually out-and-about with her children. Sometimes they will be on their way somewhere, and she’ll see an old house or adobe and she will just have to pull over and get more information about that particular location. Marsha found one of our favorite, beautiful locations (an old adobe mission) while she was on a weekend outing with her children. Kirsten is a constant explorer. She has no hesitation about jumping in her car and driving to a historic city for the day. We often receive photos on our phones of something like a haunted library basement she stumbled across on a Wednesday afternoon. Jen lives in a historic town and loves to take her dog for a walk around town, keeping her ears perked for info on haunted locations. The key is to always be looking. If you are driving around and you see a possible location, take the time and get out of the car. Sometimes all you have to do is stop in and ask. Most folks are just as interested and curious about you as you are about them.

THE FUN PART…I mean…THE INVESTIGATION:  I am one of the “single” Paranormal Housewives so I don’t have others to account to in my daily life. However, I do hold down a full-time job and two part-time jobs; I am a writer and a performer in the theater, as well. So, I’m usually busy all day, every day. The great thing about being a ghost hunter is that we usually investigate at night. So do I ever sleep? Hardly. Is it worth the paltry 4-5 hours of shut-eye? Heck yes! I am tired the next day, which means I will admit that I am moody to all who are unfortunate to be around me, but I usually have a great adventure to tell my co-workers the next day! However, Erin, Marsha and Kirsten have a full family life. Thank goodness each of them has extremely supportive husbands and loving children who see the passion these ladies have for this field and are on board one-hundred percent. The husbands and children have hobbies as well, so it’s a delicate balance. There is usually some sort of negotiation or compromise. Erin says she and her husband trade off. She can go on an investigation and he’ll get a chance to do what wants to do without the interruption of the children. Communication is key: “Leif is really, really good about letting me go out hunting while he stays at home. I also text when we are about to do a session because I usually turn of my phone. I let him know I am turning off my phone and that I will turn the phone back on after the session.” Marsha’s husband knows that being an investigator is simply part of who she is, and he will take on the whole household so that she is free to go out on an investigation. They have such an amazing, extended family unit that there is usually sufficient back-up to watch the children so that her husband can come along as well. Marsha also says that the most difficult part for her, as a ghost hunter mom, is when her kids don’t want her to go to a particular location because they worry about her. “It’s not easy for a child to accept that their mom is leaving for a few hours to go hunt ghosts in a scary, dark hospital or in an abandoned jail. But I do my best to address their fears and to reassure them that we will be safe, often reminding them that we pray before and after each investigation asking for protection.” Kirsten has found that she and her husband negotiate every ghost hunt, time with their daughter, friends and one-on-one time with each other at the cabin. It’s just part of their everyday cycle. Her husband is generally quite accommodating about investigations; however, it’s especially difficult with a teenaged daughter because on the one hand, she would like to bring her more often now that she’s older, but on the other hand, we can’t expose her to negative environments. “Paranormal investigations are difficult to set up and even more difficult to accommodate to everyone’s needs/schedules/interests; however, we find a way because this field of inquiry is simply too fascinating to explore, and I won’t give it up because it’s a challenge to merge family and ghost hunting. I enjoy a challenge.” Jen says she usually has to find a babysitter for her 7 yr old daughter. “If I have enough notice, I can get my ex or my parents to watch her (depending on their schedule), but I also want to make sure that I still spend plenty of quality time with my daughter.”

Evidence Review:  This is the tough one. The important thing about evidence review is you cannot put it off. You must be able to go over your audio and video quickly while the night’s investigations are still fresh in your mind (it’s very helpful to remember where everyone was sitting a room or who was wearing that very noisy winter ski jacket. It will help with debunking evidence). It is also important to concentrate. When listening to audio, you have to eliminate outside noise as much as possible. When you are watching video, if you blink you’ll miss it! So we have to manage distractions. For me, I work full time, then I usually have a second job…or two…my horse needs to get out or I need to write after work. I may even be crazy enough to try a workout at the gym! I am not home until really late, and going over any evidence while you are not fully awake is not the best idea (and I’ll admit that I can get a little creeped out alone in my house, at night, listening to scary, haunted audio). But I find that if I can dedicate even 1 hour of my time a day I can get through it. On my lunch break I can take my good pair of headphones and sit in my car and listen to audio. It’s not ideal but sometimes it’s all you’ve got. I also find that watching hours and hours of video (usually of a staircase that hasn’t had any action) very daunting. So again, I break it up. You don’t have to watch all 3 hours at once. Sometimes I can do it in 30-60 minutes increments.

Liz usually finds it impossible to review audio at home, with five people and an indoor cat and dog. She would love to review her audio in the comfort of her home, but she understands how voices carry inside the house. “Once the house settles down (after 10pm) it’s already too late. I just want to sleep or at least try to catch up on my internet stuff. Even then I can hear my sister’s TV and/or music. Sometimes I can hear my dad in his office as well. And weekends are worse with family or neighbors stopping by. Now that I am saying this, I realize that my family is loud.” However, she too has found that she can easily review audio at work. She is fantastic at multi -tasking and can usually get through her evidence in just a few days. But reviewing evidence with children is a true challenge. We have found that it’s easier for Marsha to send her audio from an investigation to another investigator due to her children wanting her constant attention. Erin will usually review when one kid is napping and the other is in school. She also reviews her picture evidence with her 6 year old because he sometimes spots things that she may not see.

Jen will conduct evidence review whenever she can get a smidge of opportunity! “When the PHW sisters send me EVPs that they’ve caught, I wait until my daughter’s favorite cartoon comes on (Scoobie Doo) Then, I throw on the headphones & listen away!!” Being a paranormal investigator is simply a huge part of who we truly are. And that is even clearer now that we are together and have the ability to share this adventure with each other. Each of us, no matter how challenging it has been, has found a way to include a life-long dream into our super busy days. Thanks to the support from our family and friends (who don’t think we are crazy) we are able to remain a committed, investigative team and continue to be honest and true to the wonderful field of the paranormal.

–Kimberly Demmary

 Below is Kimberly’s first-hand account of opening night.

Seatbelts Required (or the play I wrote to piss off my sisters)

 Elizabeth Kimball, Chelsea Pitillo and Cynthia Manous in “Seatbelts Required”

My palms are sweaty. My heart is thumping so hard in my chest, I’m certain that the people sitting directly in front of me can hear it.  I have a shiver that permeates my entire body that no amount of layered clothing can fix.  My legs are bouncing up and down, creating this constant low vibration within the row of seats where I’m sitting.

Even the rehearsal and workshopping of this play had not frightened me this much.  The last-minute cuts and edits had been stressful (my biggest lesson learned is not to be married to your words.  Trust me, you won’t miss later what you’ve taken out) — but that process was a breeze compared to opening night.  Here I am, sitting in a theater, completely full of friends, family and my PHW sisters, ready to watch my play professionally performed for the very first time.

Seatbelts Required is about three sisters, who never really got along while growing up.  Their mother had been the catalyst for most of their strife.  After their mother’s funeral, the sisters are once again re-united inside their childhood home, where they try to come to terms with the destruction their mother brought to their lives.  As the afternoon progresses, they hesitantly try to connect through remembered laughter and shared sorrow, as they re-live their harrowing past and their struggle to realize that a deeply shared bond connects them. They can look only to each other for healing.

Did I mention my two sisters are in the audience?  My body is not going through opening night jitters; it’s going through sister jitters.  I have no idea how they’ll take seeing the show.  I had told them that what they were about to see on stage is not how I truly feel about them.  I couldn’t help but wonder if, after seeing the show, they’ll believe me.

The lights go down on the stage, and the play starts.  My body is now humming with an energy that I swear is going to rip right through my skin.

I have been telling people who raised the question that my family life was not the inspiration for this play.  The original inspiration was actually a writing challenge that I had given to myself.  I wanted to write a play that would take place in a car.  And I needed to figure how to sustain engaging dialogue and drama in such a confined space.  Who better to accomplish that than characters based on family?

But as the play blossomed, it grew out of the car and into the family house.  And it wasn’t until I was in the re-write process of the play that I finally noticed the similarities between what I had written on the page and my own life.  I enjoy telling a story, and the situations in which my characters find themselves are exactly that — highly exaggerated storytelling.  However, the dynamics of their relationships and mine with my own siblings seem to hit a little too close to home.

I have to admit, though. that it’s quite a rush putting my characters into difficult situations that I wasn’t sure I could write them out of — or at the very least, survive with just a few scrapes and bruises.  My mentor,  the play’s director John Barker, often encouraged me to push the writing and the characters as far I thought I could and then step over that line and go even farther.  “Write until it scares you” is what he would tell me.

As I watch the audience react to the actors (my dear friends whom I trusted would take good care of my precious tormented characters), everything seems so believable. I find it funny when people who know I am the writer ask me “How much of this is true?”  It’s always phrased that way, as if they expect at least some of it to be autobiographical.  I’d like to hope that there is no family in the world that is this messed up.

The play is winding down.  For the past two hours I have heard laughter and crying from the audience. It’s everything I hoped for, but I cannot tell if any of those emotions were shared with my sisters.  The lights fade on the actors and the room goes to black.  Then the lights are up and actors take their bow, and I am pulled on stage (I was surprised that I could even walk as I could not feel my legs).

I anxiously look down at my sisters. They’re beaming, with tears in their eyes, clapping as hard as they can.  I can finally breathe.

Seatbelts Required

Run January 6^th ~ February 12^th

Fridays & Saturdays at 8pm ~ Sundays at 2pm

Actors Workout Studio

4735 Lankershim Blvd. North Hollywood, Ca 91602

For reservations call the box office at 818-506-3903

Tickets $15 for Adults/$12 Seniors and Students

Three of us recently investigated two wings of an abandoned state hospital in Northern California. At this particular site, a couple of the old buildings are still wide open. We only planned to run a couple of EVP sessions and didn’t expect much; after all, this place has been empty a long, long time. Everything started quietly; and then, without warning, we all noticed that the mood shifted and became dark and brooding. Most, if not all paranormal investigators are very familiar with this phenomenon. You start out innocently enough, asking questions, soaking up the atmosphere, and then something changes. It can only be described as a kind of emotional shadow that descends upon everyone and creates a tension, as if someone were looking at you intently, but you can’t see them. That “someone” can be very confused, angry, unhappy and possibly violent. Then comes the long process of determining if you are in the presence of a residual or intelligent entity, or if the negativity of the site itself is impressing itself upon your mind and invading your feelings. Sometimes, it’s a combination of many phenomena that are difficult to disentangle.

That evening, the sun was dwindling and the air cooling quickly. What we felt at a certain point was not simply the physical change in the atmosphere due to the time of day; it was more insidious and powerful than that. A relative of mine had spent time at this particular state hospital, decades ago; she still won’t discuss details of her experience and only occasionally will she make a reference to her time there. From the few stories that she shared with me, this was a monstrous place where abuse of all kinds was not only tolerated, but allowed to proliferate unchecked. Therefore, I feel a certain connection to this hospital on a personal level. I want to know exactly what happened in these wards, but at the same time, it’s painful knowledge that I would prefer to avoid. All three of us have done research into the hospital’s past and have read personal accounts of patients’ treatment. All of us know that coming here is not only risky, but potentially harmful. What draws us back is the uncertainty, the mystery, the question: can we help anyone left behind?

Before I attempt to answer that question, let me return to our EVP session. Sometimes, I formulate mental questions instead of verbal ones if I am seeking a personal answer. The question I launched into the darkening hallways was this: did you know my relative, and what happened to her here? Within moments, a tidal wave of unbidden emotion hit me, and I started sobbing. Suddenly, I knew everything I ever wanted to know about this hospital and the fate of many of the patients here. One after another, visual images assaulted me; although I don’t feel comfortable describing the specifics of what I saw, I can say that subsequent research confirmed everything that was impressed upon my mind. I gradually stopped crying, but I remain affected by this experience to this day, and I will never forget it. Lest you all think that this is typical for me, allow me to correct that notion: I have never, ever cried on an investigation before. I also have never been bombarded by visual images that I could later verify.

I was not the only one to feel such emotion that day. Later, in a different wing, Marsha was overcome with a sense that something was wrong, that someone was watching us from behind one of the multiple doors in that hall. I’ve never seen her so visibly uncomfortable and troubled. She looked over her shoulder as if waiting for someone to pounce. Finally, she asked if we could leave. Marsha has never been the one to make such a request. She is the brave one, the person I would turn to in case of emergency or crisis. She is courageous to the bone. When Marsha wants to leave, something is seriously wrong. Of course, we left; our rule is always to respect the instincts of a PHW sister, no questions asked. No one ever leaves alone. Marsha’s head began to throb as we walked out, and she ended up with a debilitating headache for hours afterward. Other odd things happened to her, as well: she was continuously receiving flashing, mental images of the hospital after she left and felt warned never to return.

Our third PHW was unaffected by our investigation, although she certainly has had very emotional experiences before. During an EVP session in the Vickers Estate, (Pierpont Inn) she felt strong emotions and cried, all the while knowing that those feelings were not originating in her. For whatever reason, these impressions and their resultant effect on one’s psyche do not affect all of us at the same time or in the same place. The emotional impact of so-called ‘ghost hunting’ has not been explored sufficiently. The aftermath of this investigation was quite profound. Marsha has decided never to return to those buildings or any others that create such upheaval.

As for me, I have not necessarily ruled out another investigation at this site, but I am not sure what else there is to be learned. I felt then and now that all of my questions were answered, and fully. I don’t know if specific identities are trapped there, but certainly their pain, confusion and despair are trapped there; is there really any reason to expose myself to such misery again? There is no way to help those who left there long ago, or who died there. My theory is that those souls abandoned this place at some point, leaving behind them only trauma. That trauma has burned itself into the walls and echoes throughout the hallways, and will repeat painful episodes from the past forever and ever. So yes, this site will always be haunted; but not necessarily by souls or spirits trapped there, but by history, memory, and overwhelming emotion. I was allowed to feel all of that for a few moments. This small window into one of the saddest places on Earth was only a brief glimpse into what was and is, for so many, an eternal torment.

Below are two EVPs from this investigation with an explanation of the circumstances surrounding them.

Jan 1 2012 crying

I thought about not including this clip, since it shows me at my most vulnerable and raw. However, I decided to post this because it shows how deeply one can be affected on an investigation, and how seriously the environment can impact our emotions. There is the sound of crying down the hallway right before Marsha says, “did you hear that?”

Jan 1 2012 give us a sign

There is a response to Marsha’s question, “could you give us a sign by closing the door”. If anyone can decipher the response, we would certainly appreciate it!

–Kirsten A. Thorne, Ph.D./PHW

December 29th, 2011

There are times as a paranormal investigator when you start out wanting to help and end up overwhelmed and unable to do anything to assist your client. What you learn are your own limitations, both as an individual and as an investigator. When that happens, you are humbled and awed by the possibility that you don’t know but a fraction of the powers of the spirit world.

This case started with an email asking for help with what appeared to be a malevolent entity attacking the client’s six-year-old son in his room while he slept. She had attached pictures of her son, apparently scratched and burned by something inexplicable. The pictures were heart-rending. My first instinct was to “help”–I put that word in quotes because I had no idea at the time how to do that. From the start, something was off about the entire situation. Try as I might, I was unable to forward the pictures to the other members of the team. We were all touched by the mother’s story, yet we could not find a date or time that worked for all of us to visit the home; and, at the last minute, one of the team members who thought she could make it had to cancel due to work issues. I was on my own.

Of course, I shouldn’t have attempted this case alone. Our rule was–and is–that we never conduct an initial walk-through of a home without at least one other team member present. However, in a paroxysm of concern for the client and an intense desire not to appear flaky or irresponsible, I headed west on my own. This visit would turn into a traumatic series of events that left me in a state of self-doubt that took weeks to process and overcome.

The client was single, with two children, apparently terrorized by whatever was lingering or lurking in their bedroom. Both children were sleepwalking and suffering from night terrors, and more often than not ended up sleeping in mom’s bed. This had been going on for months, but the activity escalated in November, focusing on the son. The toys had been activated in the middle of the night, odd sounds emanated from the kids’ room, neither would enter the bathroom in their room, deeming it “scary”; the room was, indeed, freezing, foreboding and rejected as a place to play or sleep. The mother had heard phantom coins dropping  into the piggy bank and speculated that at least some of the activity centered on it. All of this was odd and unsettling, but it wasn’t until the night her son wandered into her room asleep and she noticed the long, jagged scratches on his back that she became truly alarmed. A short while later, she discovered burn marks in a sort of pattern on his lower back and buttocks and decided to contact us.

She was divorced, lived with the two kids and shared custody with an ex husband–who, she swore, was a great dad. I asked about the timing of the marks. She insisted that they were not there the night he went to bed and had appeared in the space of a few hours. She had been awake and verified that her daughter had never awoken from her slumber that evening. In other words, nothing normal or natural  could explain the injuries. I believed her; I couldn’t find a reason not to. We had spoken at length on the phone, she had promptly and thoroughly filled out our lengthy form, and most of all, she was intelligent, articulate, calm and showed no signs of duplicity or mental illness (both of which we had come across before). Therefore, I figured it was fine to visit her alone; even my incredibly wary husband didn’t see any harm in it.

She lived in a section of an apartment complex on the ground floor. Only the kitchen and her bedroom shared a wall with a neighbor. The bedroom in question fronted a green space and a parking area. When I walked through the patio, my first impressions had something to do with sadness and heaviness. The patio was strewn with toys, some obviously unloved or forgotten. It was a portrait of childhood, but of a childhood spent in a dark space, with little freedom. Perhaps the characterization is unfair, but I felt instantly depressed. When mom answered the door, however, I was pleasantly surprised. She was attractive and seemed confident, albeit a tad nervous to meet me, all of which made her appear open and appealing. The apartment was small but neat; children’s drawings and toys were artfully displayed; she was doing her best after a divorce to create a nice home for her kids, a place where they would feel safe. Except now, apparently, they weren’t.

We chatted amicably, even though I could tell I was talking too much. I wasn’t quite comfortable but didn’t understand why. We reviewed the forms, sharing theories about the ghost–or whatever it was–and attempting to make sense of it all. I decided near the beginning of our visit to place the digital audio recorder in the children’s bedroom, and I left it running the about 45 minutes. During this time, you can hear us talking in low tones in the living room and moving into the bedroom, commenting on the various odd phenomena in the apartment. This is where I notice how cold the kids’ bedroom is, how thick the atmosphere was, and I commented how much I wished to avoid the contiguous bathroom. She explained to me then how her children won’t go near it. We wrap up the visit and say goodbye. I never expected to hear anything strange on the audio; it was four o’clock in the afternoon, and even though I didn’t like the oppressive feel of the bedroom, I wasn’t prepared to take that as evidence for a haunting.

I liked her. She seemed genuine. I could find no cause for alarm. There was simply no clue that she could have possibly done anything to hurt her son. She wanted answers, and I thought I could provide them. I believed that I could simply rally the PHW, conduct a thorough investigation, and hand her over a report that explained all–or at least some–of the mystery. Then I reviewed my audio from that visit and all of my assumptions evaporated. I heard male voices–sometimes just one, sometimes more than one–under our conversations. I could not make out what they were saying, or he, or it–but this other voice, or other voices, were weaving in and out of our conversations, as if commenting upon what we were saying (please note that you need headphones to hear these clips and you must turn up the volume and listen more than once. If you still don’t hear anything unusual, write to me and I’ll send you the original files before they are compressed for this site). Here is an example:

voice under ours

There are other examples of this, the constant commenting and talking under/over us; and there are the three clips with odd, robotic or mechanical noises that could be the sound of toys or something else that I simply can’t explain:

weird electric noise

metallic noise

ping

Then there were those clips that the other team members did not think were paranormal, but I still find strange; for one thing, I was in the room when these were recorded, and I didn’t hear anything unusual at the time. I leave these for you to decide:

distant voice

littlecry

The laugh in the next clip is very odd. It clearly isn’t either one of us:

laugh

However, it wasn’t until I heard the following clip that the entire investigation fell apart for me. Listen to it, but be aware that I will interpret what it says right afterward. I do this only because I cannot tell the rest of the story without you knowing what it says:

whispered voice

It didn’t take long for me to hear the message: “Get out of here. Never come back”.

There is a sick feeling that I sometimes get when listening to my audio. It’s that sense that I’ve heard something that I wasn’t supposed to hear, a voice that is best left to the shadows. I still feel that odd, depressed sensation when I listen to this clip. This is a message to me from someone, unidentified, who wants me to stay away. I listened. The reason that I paid attention to this clip and took it more seriously than any others I have heard is simple: this is something that has hurt a child. This is a force capable of bodily injury. Even if you argue that those injuries must have been inflicted by a parent or guardian, the question still lingers: what kind of influence could this entity have in that apartment? It is creating emotional turmoil, so the issue is not as much whether or not I can prove conclusively who or what hurt the children (I cannot prove anything, either way) but what can, or should, I do.

I could have ignored a clear message on my audio and involved the PHW; maybe it was an empty threat. I could have justified and rationalized a decision to continue with this investigation. I agonized over this issue. There were those who insisted I call social services, those who don’t believe in spirits or demons. There were those who believed that I had encountered true evil, something that would follow me home and torment my family. In either case, this was abuse. If I was wrong about the parents hurting their child, I could have been responsible for a true family tragedy. Family members recommended I consult a priest; others said to simply walk away. I came very close to meeting with Father McNamara at a local Catholic church. I chose not to. All I could imagine was the disapproval in his voice when he heard about my naive ambitions to “help” in this situation. I felt the admonitions rain down upon me as someone who didn’t understand the evil in this world, and had walked straight into a situation that she was ill-equipped to handle.

I felt ignorant, stupid, powerless and useless. All I could do, after weeks of soul searching, was talk to her and tell her that, in my humble opinion, she needed to consult a religious authority within her spiritual tradition (she didn’t have one) and consider moving out of that apartment (which she couldn’t do, because she would have to break her lease and they would subsequently raise her rent in another unit). I told her that they should never sleep in that room again. They don’t. I sent her the audio clips, and she was duly unhappy with them. She asked about clearing the house, and I recommended a couple of books, but in the end, I don’t believe that one can “clear” something out which might have persisted there for decades . . . or centuries. How wonderful it would be to make all such unpleasant and frightening souls disappear, all because we will it.

After a while, we stopped writing. There was nothing left to say. I had hit the wall of my own naivete and impotence, and she had run out of options. In the end, I was only pleased with one aspect of this case: at the very least, I had kept the other PHW out of that apartment. In my heart of hearts, I know that something was drastically, terribly wrong in that room. Whether it was a human or spiritual agent creating the chaos and causing the pain is almost not relevant, since neither can be proved by a paranormal investigator. I did what I could, and I had to walk away. That was difficult; but how much more traumatic to have involved people that I loved in a what I believe was an ancient evil much more intelligent than I. At least it warned me to stay away; and I did.

The Paranormal Housewives—all six of us—headed off to Pine Cove and Idyllwild for our second annual retreat at Kirsten’s cabin! Imagine: six women, one bathroom, two bedrooms and an abandoned cabin less than five minutes away, walking. Combine that with pink wine for Marsha’s birthday and an altitude of over 6,000 feet and you have: insanity and more fun than should be legal. Below are the ladies’ favorite moments from the weekend:

“My two favorite moments of the weekend were: 1. On Friday night when Kirsten,
Marsha, me and Jen were at the cabin and Jen got a hold of the camera. She
was crazy camera lady taking all these pictures of us! I have never laughed
so hard in my life!! I love how we all feel so comfortable with each other
that we can all just be ourselves and we don’t feel like we have to “put on
a show”….even though we kind of did for the camera! 2. On Sunday morning
after we made breakfast and everyone was there together at the dining room
table eating, talking and laughing. We were one, big, happy paranormal family.”

–Erin

“I had such a blast and many favorite moments. I would have to say my favorite was playing games and drinking wine in front of the Christmas tree while listening to Christmas music.  It felt like I was with family. So warm & cozy! From Erin and me singing familiar movie songs, to Kirsten drinking her tea from a tea pot that sounds like a train when it boils to saving spiders, Marsha rushing out the door with a broom to save us from the coyotes, to Kim trying to drive with that big leopard coat, to Liz playing with her squirrel finger puppet next to me. This all confirmed that family feeling. Love you girls!!!”
–Jen

“My favorite time was driving up to the cabin with Liz and she tells Marsha on the phone that we are passing (the city of) Narrow Bridge! I laughed so hard I was crying.  I loved that we got to spend Marsha’s birthday with her. It’s such a special day. We had six ladies and only one bathroom and we managed that without any hair pulling! Also, playing checkers with Kirsten was fun (fantastic one-on-one time) even though I didn’t know I was playing with a professional!  I really loved playing games and taking our walk/adventure to the empty cabin (Giving Jen a camera is a dangerous thing). Making breakfast with Erin, eating at the table as a team or family was really wonderful. We have this bond that I had never thought possible. . . .

Oh yeah! I forgot about Jen trying to sleep in the closet like Harry Potter! You are crazy girl.”

–Kimberly Demmary

 Hi everyone! I miss you all! Thanks for such an amazing weekend, and for all the gifts! A few of my favorite weekend moments was when we first arrived at the cabin and Kirsten was twisted up in the pink streamers she used to decorate the cabin. I couldn’t help but smile as she opened her arms wide and said, “Ta da!” I so love Kirsten!! Another favorite moment was when Jen was taking all the pictures of us! The Paranormal Housewives really know how to rock a photo shoot!! I can’t forget how happy I was to see Kimberly and Liz! Sunday breakfast was so wonderful! I love all my Paranormal Housewives!!

–Marsha

My favorite moments were when I asked Marsha to use the Icy Hot spray on me, and I screamed and everyone thought there was something wrong.  Also when I found the cute squirrel at the store and Kim was ready to kill it even before I bought it; and also when Jen was getting ready to sleep in the closet.  Sigh… those were great moments.  

–Liz

And my favorite moments? There were so many of them, that it’s truly difficult to choose. There was one point when everyone was on their phone, and I was finishing up the dishes. I came out of the kitchen into the living room with handfuls of knives that I had been drying. I told them all (not seriously!) to get off their phones, we’re in the cabin, no technology allowed, etc., when Jen grabbed the camera and started taking pictures of me. The combination of wine, altitude, four knives and a camera was too much; I kind of lost my mind. I think that the pictures speak for themselves.

Also, there is this ongoing joke about the spiders at the cabin. Kimberly and Erin have a true spider phobia, which is unfortunate, because the cabin is FILLED with Wolf spiders (they are, by the way, totally harmless). I try very hard to capture them with a plastic cup and release them into the wild, but every now and then I can’t stop a PHW from crushing one with her slipper (Marsha!) because “it was attacking me,” (Puh-leeese) or someone else using Icy Hot to immobilize and suffocate them in the guest bedroom (you know who you are). I defend my Wolfies, but freaked-out PHWs are not always in their right mind and destroy them without mercy.

We were kind of cranky and tired by Saturday night (mostly me), but I still loved playing “The Worst Case Scenario” and finding out that I would probably survive a centipede bite and figure out what to do if an assassin were following me in his car. I also have to mention how much I love “Rubber-Toe” at La Casita in Idyllwild. He is kind, sweet, caring and was thinking of us the very day that we were driving up. Mostly, however, as we sat around the breakfast table on Sunday morning, I was thankful that after so many years of only having acquaintances, I finally have real friends.

–Kirsten A. Thorne, PhD/PHW