The Haunted Hotel

I felt very small walking up the drive to that once magnificent Hotel. It was like some ancient dying creature looking down on me, imploring me with those sad eyed empty black windows. I hoped the ghosts would be friendly. It was a perfect grey gloomy dusk with one of our wonderfully haunted mountain fogs setting in. It was a perfect setting for a Halloween exorcism. 

I felt tiny and alone as I approached that behemoth. The ancient Hotel seemed alive though dying, asking me for some benediction to help it on its way. There was a feeling of deep sadness that emanated from it. I felt more compassionate than scared. I felt myself to be playing a part in some holy task done by life itself, and I was grateful to be a witness. 

It all started with a dream. In the dream I was visiting the Hotel in its glory days. The guests were showing me around. I was going to their rooms and they were telling me about their lives. They all seemed glad to meet me. There was something I needed to do for them. When I woke up I knew exactly what that was. 

I knew that I had been hanging out with ghosts. Yes, there were a large number of earthbound souls trapped in that hotel. They needed a clearing ritual to help them on to the next life. But how in the world would I ever get permission? Should I call the owner and ask him if I could do an exorcism? Should I tell him about the dream? He’ll think I’m crazy. How would I find the owner anyway? I didn’t have to worry about it for long because the owner called me three days later. What a coincidence. I owned a sign shop at the time and he said he needed some “For Sale by Owner” signs. He said the Hotel was a disaster and he would soon lose everything on the deal he was trying to create. He planned to tear down the Hotel and turn it into an upscale community. He told me of all the misfortunes that had befallen him since taking on the project. Two of his partners had heart attacks and quit. Everything was going wrong and he needed out, hence the request for a “For Sale” sign. He came to the right place. 

I said, “Of course I would do it, but would you mind if I went through the property and said a few prayers?” He looked at me kind of funny and then smiled and said sure, it couldn’t hurt. He thought I was crazy, but it wasn’t my first property exorcism. This little hobby was inspired by an old book I found on some long forgotten pagan approach to Halloween. I don’t know the difference between fact and fiction sometimes, I just like believing in things that make life interesting. In this book they said that the significance of Halloween was that on this auspicious day the sun made its lowest arc through the heavens and this meant that Heaven and Earth were closer than usual. Therefore the angels were ready to find lost souls and take them up to Heaven. This seemed logical to me, so on Halloween I would find places that seemed haunted and do these old rituals. The rituals included personal protection from creepy vibes, prayers calling in Angels, and talking to the deceased; basically telling them to “see the light’. The angels did the rest. 

So that Halloween, feeling small before the giant sad Hotel, I trucked up the driveway armed with a stick of sage and an adventurous spirit. It was Gooooood Halloweening. I walked through every room, I felt some terror, I felt some peace, I felt welcomed at times, hated at times, and all in all it was a good romp. Sometimes the friends from the dream seemed to be with me. Other rooms were filled with a dark malice and I found myself praying a little faster. Sometimes I would go completely cold and the hair on the back of my neck would stand up. Sometimes it was just dread. And at the end it was all dread as I realized (now that it was fully dark) the only place I hadn’t cleared was the basement…

By the glow of my little sage stick and some fast chanting and praying I got through that black basement. My part was done. Many of those people were trapped since the thirties. Al Capone used to hang out there I was told. But it wasn’t complete. I had an intuition. There was some tainted ground still to clear. This could be because Native American people were buried there, or there was a spirit of the Earth saddened by misdeeds which had charged the atmosphere at that place. So the next day, with a Medicine Man of the Lacotah tradition, we did another round. We smoked the ceremonial pipe, sang the sacred songs, played the drum, danced and offered prayers in the Native American way. And we built a fire. There was a point at the end of the ceremony when my eyes seemed to be playing tricks on me. What was that thing there? Did you see that, that indiscernible shape rising up with the smoke? Couldn’t be, I must have gotten something in my eyes. But it sure felt complete right then. And everything worked out fine. It’s a nice community now.

Maybe I should start a business, charge a fortune and then if someone doesn’t pay the bill I could have the property re-possessed J NOT.

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