Old houses and their spirits

WHEN I was taking guests around one huge ancestral house in Negros, I told a lady guest that I have been in this 1980’s mansion several times but had not experienced anything supernatural. We were on the ground floor where the horses’ stables used to be.  This woman gifted with the third eye looked at the top of my head and said, “You don’t feel anything because your antenna is down.  Do you want me to raise your antenna?”  I vociferously protested, “No, no, no, no!” and with good reason – I wanted to live undisturbed on this earth.  Let “the others” live in peace on their own spiritual planes.

It was time to go up the second floor.  In this house, all of the furniture had been removed and the only moveable items left were four portraits of its most prominent occupants.  One can see his photograph first as soon as one reaches the top.  His aristocratic profile is one I have gazed upon countless time before.  I tell my guest, “This is señor so-and-so.”  And she tells me, “I know.  He told me.”  She is a perfectly two-feet-on-the-ground kind of lady with a special gift, so, not an eyeroll from me.

There were other interesting details that happened during visits to the house, and both were forever etched in my memory.  When my guest and I were in front of the picture of the wife of the original owner of the house, my guest turned to me and said, “She said to pray for her.”  She repeated, “Pray for her.”  I clarified if it was a general request, or if the request was specially directed at me.  My guest said it was the latter. It would be a bit later when the visiting group including me walked around the balcony and stopped at where it was opposite the gate.  The guests were huddled off-center for a group picture while I waited patiently from a distance for them to finish.  Now, here’s the strange part.  I felt a very strong urge to cry that it took some superhuman effort not to for that would be embarrassing for people to see me their tour guide in tears. That evening, I sent a message to the house owner’s great-granddaughter and told her what happened to me.  She explained that her great-grandmother used to stand at the balcony waiting for her husband to come home.  He, my friend explained, had a second family (10 children by the other woman I was to find out). “My lola died of a broken heart.”  So, it is no wonder that I was requested by the señora to pray for her. 

Another incident happened when I brought guests late in the afternoon.  I took them around the usual route when, at the dining room, an inexplicable coldness swirled around my lower extremities and a heavy malignant force pressed on my shoulders.  I had to rush the visit and moved my guests out of that room and, soon, out of the house.  I thought I was friendly with the resident ghosts there! Sulk. Some of them seemed to resent my presence on that afternoon.

 My succeeding visits would take on a different habit, and that is to greet the unseen starting from the front gate and ask permission to pass through while walking towards the house.  Then, I would greet “the others” as I enter the mansion and make sure that it would be at a time when the sun is still up.  I haven’t encountered any trouble since then and I’m happy that I’m back in their good graces./PN 


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