I never ask for ghosts/spirits/apparitions (whatever you call them) to make themselves known to me. I am not a ghost hunter. I have turned down requests to lead séances (in both English and French). But, I have still experienced these people/things/energies all my life.
The latest was at the Columns Hotel in New Orleans.
A good friend who writes cozy mysteries – the same one I mentioned on my recent trips to France and Ireland – and I checked in a week ago. We enjoy sharing room 9, which features two giant four-poster beds in the original part of the old mansion. It’s also where we both experienced something unexplainable the last time we were there.
We had spent the day in the French Quarter—an extremely hot, humid day in the FQ. I have to tell you more about that in the next newsletter, because yes, synchronicity was off the charts. After checking in, having dinner in the hotel, and a lovely bath in the claw-footed tub, I fell asleep. Traci was asleep in the bed closest to the hallway door. I was across the room by the little terrace.
It was probably around midnight when I awoke to a strange sound. (I realize that’s an old cliché line, but it’s true.)
The best way I can describe it is to say it was a crinkling noise. Several light, distinct crinkling sounds interspersed with other barely audible scooting sounds. I know that’s a vague description, but that’s what I was hearing.
I’m a light sleeper, so I awake to everything unless I’m in a deep REM cycle. At first, when I became aware of the sounds, I thought it was coming from the room above us. I thought maybe someone was setting their luggage on the floor, maybe unzipping their luggage to open it. But those weren’t the sounds I was hearing. Plus, the noises were so light and delicate (again, the only way I can describe it) that I realized I wouldn’t be able to hear them through the ceiling. There were no voices either or other sounds indicating I was listening to someone in the room above.
So, I rolled over in my bed to face Traci’s bed. My guess at that point was that she was awake and fiddling with something on her nightstand or in her luggage. I was going to tell her to turn on her lamp because it wouldn’t disturb me.
However, when I looked her way, I could see the silhouette of her lying on her side, fast asleep. And the crinkling sounds continued.
At that moment, I became fully aware that something was in the room with us. I knew it wasn’t a mouse or rat because it would be a different sound from what I was hearing. This was light and delicate, not thrashing and busy.
I had a decision to make: Do I wake Traci and frighten her about something being so close to her while she slept, or do I trust my intuition that whatever it was wasn’t harmful to us, only curious? I opted for the latter, laid my head back on my pillow and promptly fell asleep again.
You may think I dreamt this episode, but no, I was awake. The sounds woke me. You may wonder if I saw anything uncanny when I looked in the direction of the sounds. No, I didn’t. The room was very dark, though. I could see the silhouette of my friend lying down against the slightly lighter background of the wall.
In the morning, when we were both awake, the first thing I did was walk to the spot where I heard the noises. I began telling Traci what happened while I gently touched objects on her nightstand. Maybe those were the scooting sounds I briefly heard. But when I touched the Rouse’s Market bag beside her nightstand, which was filled to the brim with bags of Louisiana Style Popcorn, Cajun and Beignet flavors, and Hubig’s Pies in every flavor to take home, that was the exact sound!
I had been listening to something perusing the bags of snacks, carefully inspecting them. I know how crazy that might sound to you, but I reconciled long ago to not being embarrassed or fearing judgment when I share my experiences. That is what happened.
The epilogue to all of this is that Traci had asked, unbeknownst to me, for evidence from the resident ghosts in the Columns of their existence. But then she put in earplugs before she went to sleep. So, I received her confirmation instead. And the staff, many of whom I recounted my experience to, told me that they don’t have mice or rats in the hotel. But they do have the spirits of the tall man in the hat and the white lady, whom they believe to be the original owners who built the house in 1883.