My Paranormal Experiences

While treasure and history are my real areas of expertise, I have had a few experiences that fall under the category of Paranormal. These were never moments that I sought out; I just stumbled into them. None of these stories, which I am about to describe, happened during a night of partying and alcohol consumption, nor was I taking any medication at the time; they just caught me by surprise and without warning. 

Out of Body

The most profound experience I have ever had in my life happened when I was 16 years old. I was lying in bed and reading a book. It was just a typical day, nothing out of the ordinary, until I put the book down for a moment. I turned my head slightly to the side and noticed the perspective of my side table had changed. I was six inches higher above it than before and looking slightly down on it. I wasn’t floating on the ceiling or anything, but the angle had changed enough that it was apparent. Then any and all stress left my body. I had the feeling that my bedside table wasn’t even real; it was only real because I believed it was. I recall thinking that if I swung my hand towards it, my hand would pass right through the wooden structure. It was like realizing the nature of the Matrix, but only this was years before that movie was released, so I can’t blame that plotline for putting the idea in my head. I realized years later that maybe it wasn’t the table at that moment that wasn’t physically substantial, but maybe it was the form that I had taken. I didn’t test the theory, for fear that any big movement would snap me back out of that moment and into my body. I also no longer felt the need to test it; in fact, I didn't feel the need to prove anything at all. 

I wasn’t worried about my body, about my life, my future, my identity, about anything. I felt immortal… I sensed eternity, and the level of peace I felt in that moment was the most significant high I have ever experienced. I realized that nothing could hurt me, not the REAL me anyway, unless I did something to hurt my own spirit. I remember imagining an axe murderer running into my room at that moment and thinking, I wouldn't even care to move to avoid his swing. For a moment that was likely just a few minutes but felt like a lifetime, I was detached from my body, from this world, and all the stress, anxiety, and concerns that come with it. I was at peace. Then, in the snap of a finger, I was back, as I had been before, lying on my bed. Immediately, the concerns of the world and mortality seeped back into me. 

I have spent many hours meditating, researching, and trying to attain that feeling again, all with no success. It was a flicker of what the Buddhists call enlightenment from pure detachment. It was a taste of heaven, and though fleeting, I am grateful for having experienced it, if only for a moment.

The Cottage

In the summer of 2012, I was staying at a friend’s family cottage. It was just the two of us staying there for the weekend. Her family had recently bought the cottage, which was located in Hanover, Ontario. It was a relatively modern design, with two bedrooms, a kitchen/dining area, a large living room, and a single bathroom. More of a small home than a rustic cottage, made up of a lot of wood siding, oak cabinets, and a large wooden deck. The wood-burning stove inside was not the primary heat source, but it was a nice rustic touch, allowing for an indoor fire. The living area had large floor-to-ceiling windows and sliding doors that led to the deck outside. These windows were a significant selling feature as they showed off the view of Lake Rosalind, which was located mere steps away. The cottage was one of many situated right on the shoreline of the lake, and it was a very serene place to spend a few days off.

We spent the day boating on the river and relaxing by the pool. That evening we were sitting on the couch, which faced the windows that overlooked the lake. The only TV in the cottage was located in front of those windows. This made watching TV during the day nearly impossible, given the amount of backlight coming through the glass. The sun had gone down, so now was the perfect time to end the day relaxing inside and watching a movie. 

My friend got up to use the bathroom while I remained on the couch alone. After a couple of minutes, my eyes drifted up from the television screen to the windows behind it. The window was a mix of a distant moonlit treeline from across the lake and my own reflection on the couch from inside. At first, it looked like a man was standing just outside the window looking in at me, but as my eyes focused, the reflection appeared to be the silhouette of a man standing behind me. It seemed as though he was standing behind the couch, just over my right shoulder. My heart began to race, and I froze, working up the courage to turn around. It occurred to me that maybe the reflection was distorted, and that it was a girl, not a man, and that it was my friend standing behind me. I called out her name, and when she answered, her voice came from the bathroom much further away. Hearing her voice jolted me out of my frozen state, and I spun around. There was no one there. I looked back at the reflection in the window, and the form was gone.

Still on edge but trying to convince myself that it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, I recounted what had happened to my friend once she returned. As I was telling the story, there was a loud crash from the dining area. As the cottage was an open concept design, we both looked over and saw the source of the noise. The door to the wood-burning stove had fallen off and come crashing down on the hardwood floor. We hadn’t used the stove all day, and it chose that moment to fall off. On closer inspection, I could see that the door, like most typical wood-burning stoves, was made of heavy cast iron. The door had two long metal rods that were welded onto the side and bent down at a 90-degree angle. These small rods slid into two hoops, which were welded onto the stovebox itself. That formed the hinge. There were no bolts, nuts, or anything else; all the parts were welded, and the massive weight of the door held it in place. The only way the door could have fallen was for someone to lift it straight up and pull the rods out of the hinge hoops. A bit of a task given the weight of the iron. To this day, I have no idea how that door could have fallen on its own.

We headed to the bedroom and closed the door, now thoroughly on edge given what had happened. That night, we could hear what sounded like the shower curtain being pulled along the curtain rod in the bathroom, and the hardwood floor creaking on the other side of the bedroom door as if someone were walking in the next room. After very little sleep, we ran into the neighbours the next morning and asked them if anything strange had ever happened at this cottage.

They proceeded to tell us the story of how two years prior, a small Zenith airplane heading for the nearby Hanover Municipal Airport crash-landed into the lake. It crashed just in front of the shore of the very cottage we were staying in. The plane sank so quickly that despite the efforts of people at the lake, the pilot drowned before he could be freed. His name was John Davidson, and he was a 72-year-old firefighter from Stoney Creek, Ontario. Perhaps after I had caught a glimpse of him in that widow's reflection, what we experienced afterwards was his way of letting us know he was still there.    

Welcoming our Daughter

It often makes me sad, knowing my mother never got the chance to meet my daughter. My mother passed away from a brain tumor many years before my daughter was born. When I was in the hospital alongside my family for the final month of my mother’s life, I kept seeing the number 911 everywhere. It would be in a string of other numbers, or the clock would say 9:11 every time I seemed to look up at one. I’m honestly not a superstitious person by nature, but this happened so often that it was hard to miss. 

At first, it struck me as odd or amusing, nothing more than a coincidence. However, as my mom was in an induced coma, I began to feel like it may be her trying to tell me something, or at least let me know I was on her mind. Even to this day, many years later, when by chance I see a clock at precisely 9:11, I whisper, “Hi mom.”

As we came to my mom’s final days, it was clear that too much damage had been done and that this time she was not going to recover. When we had that impossible conversation with the doctors, my mind went to 9:11. Somehow, I knew she was going to pass at precisely that time. The doctors said she would likely hold on for a few more days, but the next morning at 9:11 am, my mom passed away. 

Several years later, my daughter Maya was born. She took her first breath in the same hospital where my mom had taken her last. We packed up the bivouac worth of gear they instruct you to bring for a birth, and Merlin and I took our little daughter home for the first time. My sister and her family were waiting for us at our house. As we came in, I headed towards the living room where the family was waiting to meet my little girl. You can get to the living room by passing down a hallway or through the kitchen. Merlin went through the kitchen, which I didn’t really notice, I was carrying Maya, and we took the hallway. The hallway and kitchen have a cutout between them, which we like to call the drive-thru window. As I walked past it, I felt a light tug on the back of my shirt, like someone was trying to get my attention. I turned around, thinking Merlin was there, but the hallway was empty. 

Merlin then came out of the other end of the kitchen in front of me, and she seemed confused once she looked towards me and the hall. She explained that she saw me walk by the drive-thru window, but then she thought she saw a second person behind me. Given what she saw at the same time, I felt the tug on my shirt; I can only imagine that my mother was trying to tell us that she was there too. She had come to welcome our little girl home.

The Presence

While most of my paranormal encounters were mostly calm, if not pleasant, my most recent one was not. I won’t go too deep into this, but I was staying for a month at a friend’s rental house on the Island of Antigua. At first, it seemed pleasant enough, other than the odd cockroach that made its way in, given the tropical location. However, as the days went on, I would often catch a glimpse of a hulking, shadowy figure. I would see it in the corner of my eye in doorways and mirrors. I rarely get nightmares, but in that house, I woke up several nights sitting upright and screaming at the top of my lungs. Towards the end of my stay, my friend who owned the house asked, “Hey, did you happen to see anything strange in there?” Apparently, he too would see things, and his dogs would bark and growl, eyes locked on something invisible across the room. That entity was not a friendly one.

UFOs and Cryptids

I don't have much experience with UFOs, aliens, or cryptids. When I was younger, I remember my mom watching a set of four lights above our house that stayed in the same place for about an hour before quickly moving away in unison. As for cryptids, while spending time in the mountains of northern Nepal, I heard many stories of the Yeti from the local farmers, who very much believe in what they had seen. Though I unfortunately never encountered one myself. After weeks of trekking in remote mountain landscapes with nothing around for miles, I believe, IF they exist, a place like the Himalayas could easily be home to them without anyone ever knowing.