Ghosts are real. But how does one explain it so that others will believe it?

Have scientists proven it, yet?

Living in a 1672 haunted house for three months, and having multiple real ghost experiences while there, experiences that were very tangible, the audible & physical kind that can’t be ignored, have made me a ghost believer despite the lack of evidence.

I posted the haunted tales of the Connecticut saltbox ghost over a year ago, but there was an additional fright that I never mentioned. It was outside the house and involved the enormous weeping willow tree that had a lucky wishing well at its feet. It was a real wishing well, the kind with a bucket that you lower by crank to the ground waterway far down below.

A fierce November storm blew in late that November night. The tormenting rain pounded the ground hour after hour, with unrelenting force. Persistent ferocious thunder made sleep impossible. By morning, I was too petrified to peer out the back window and check to see what damage the enormous weeping willow tree had inflicted on my car beneath it.

Why had I gotten in the habit of parking under the tree? Argh. I agonized over the potential outcome, too upset to actually look and confirm. After brewing coffee and fighting an internal battle of fear, I finally found the courage to open the back door and step onto the porch to assess the destruction.

Stunned that not even a single twig had dropped onto the hood or my windshield, I sighed in relief, closed the door and returned to the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, as I passed the wall of windows that spanned the backyard, I stopped in my tracks, shocked to my core… in those twenty minutes, an enormous willow branch had somehow crashed down on my car, shattering the front windshield as well as the passenger window.

I ran outside, stunned to find that the damage was glass only. There wasn’t a speck of marking on the body of the car. How baffling. The wind hadn’t even blown during that short period of time. It seemed like Paul Bunyan had walked over to the tree, snapped off a limb and slammed it at my car. The branch had landed strategically, in an ideal location that resulted in the largest part hitting the front, and then a second smaller branch attached to the larger smashing through the passenger window. From an insurance perspective, broken glass is relatively minor.

It felt as if the ghost was trying to get my attention about something, rather than acting like a mean bully determined to terrorize me or cause me harm. It seemed like the ghost could actually read my mind. A chill ran up my spine as an anxious thought passed over me. Can a ghost break off and toss a branch like that, especially in such an uncanny way that it only hits the easy to replace glass and not a single scratch to the body?

It sure seemed like a ghost could, and did.

I ran inside to call the mobile auto glass repair shop, keeping my fingers crossed that it was opened on Veterans Day. Indeed it was. The mechanic drove to the house, picked up the car and returned it in mint condition within two and a half hours. Something that initially seemed traumatic, proved to be minor, fully covered by insurance.

In the end, the moment seemed more about the ghost proving that it was all-knowing and all-seeing. It’s force seemed noble, yet terrifying. I suddenly couldn’t imagine residing another night with an invisible force this powerful, hovering around me. I spent the afternoon searching for an available rental, made several appointments, and by Sunday I notified my landlord that I was moving out at the end of the month. I’d found a dream house a few towns down along the Connecticut River. It too was historic, but this one was dated 1801.

Had the ghost wanted me to move to this new house? After all, I’d been searching long enough.

When analyzing this experience months later, I played the devil’s advocate and thought a friend could have pranked me and hired someone to make the footprint sounds outside the kitchen back door, although I never heard anyone run away. The only thing that was impossible to explain away was the tree branch… how it had fallen after the storm when everything was quiet, and how despite it’s large sprawling size, it only smashed glass and didn’t harm the metal, as well as it’s seeming ability to read my mind. I’d made a thousand wishes at the wishing well during the three months that I lived in the old house, most were about finding a very new house to rent. The tree branch was unexplainable, and therefore all the proof I would ever need that ghosts are real, and can hang out in trees, and in my mind, toss branches around at will.~

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Posted by:Our New Green Culture

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