Embracing the Spirits: True Stories of My Encounters With the Other Side

by Barbara Parks

  over and was very much in the light.

  Our detour proved to be an enlightening diversion. Firstly,

  it cemented our belief in Tony’s abilities as a medium. Sec-

  ondly (and perhaps even more importantly) it provided Stuart

  with closure to what had been a life-changing and profoundly

  disturbing event.

  Next on the agenda was the Roleystone Theatre, a half

  hour drive away through undulating hills. The old theatre

  was set well away from the road; a secluded haven for restless ghosts.

  We were greeted by the current president Zyg; a high-

  energy, torch-yielding gentleman who made us feel extremely

  welcome. So much so that he was to leave us with a free run

  of the building for as long as we needed, under the proviso we locked up securely before we left.

  Zyg filled us in on some of his own his ghostly encoun-

  ters, including seeing a ghost so densely life-like that it almost looked as though a living person had walked across the room.

  The give-away was that the figure had no feet and seemed to

  glide above the ground.

  Zyg told us that a group of paranormal investigators had

  recently spent the night there, capturing a photograph so dis-

  turbing it still gives him chills. The photo clearly showed one of the past theatre presidents descending the lighting room

  staircase, a menacing look on his face.

  “I don’t think he was happy about strangers intruding on

  his territory,” said Zyg.

  106 Haunted Theaters

  Zyg described another encounter, whereby a female actress

  dashed into the male dressing room for a quick costume

  change.

  “Get out,” said an angry voice. “You’re not supposed to be

  in here!”

  The entity she described looked very much like Jock, the

  theatre president who had appeared on the stairs.

  Needless to say, the poor lady in question bolted out of the

  dressing room in two seconds flat.

  Thus regaled by Zyg’s ghost stories, he left us to our own

  devices.

  Tony felt that the ghostly energy was concentrated around

  the stage area, so we trundled into the theatre whilst Tony

  began to tune-in. He stepped behind the curtain, his reaction

  setting us instantly on edge.

  “OK, this is really creepy,” he said. “I’m not liking this at

  all …”

  He asked us to step behind the curtain with him, as there

  was a remarkable temperature gradient once you got back-

  stage. Despite it being an uncomfortably warm summer’s eve-

  ning, the chill backstage was unmistakeable. There was no

  rational explanation as to why it would be so cold, whilst the rest of the theatre remained warm. There were no open windows or drafts. The suddenness made it all the more unset-

  tling.

  The girls in the group didn’t remain backstage for long, it

  was way too scary. We went and sat in the front row of the

  theatre, waiting for what would happen next. Stuart and Tony

  remained behind the curtain, trying to establish contact with

  the backstage ghost.

  Haunted Theaters 107

  “Come on mate,” said Tony. “We know you’re here. Just

  make a sound for us.”

  Stuart reassured the ghost that we hadn’t come to make

  trouble, and that we would just like some proof of his pres-

  ence.

  Suddenly there was a sharp clattering sound, like metal hit-

  ting the floorboards. The ghost had responded by throwing a

  screw ; it looked very much as though it had been thrown in

  Stuart’s direction.

  The two men emerged from behind the curtains, con-

  vinced there was more activity to follow.

  We began taking photographs of both the stage area and

  the audience seats, both of which were replete with orbs. The

  darkened theatre was dotted with bursts of light and shadowy

  figures; it felt as though we were surrounded. We were well

  and truly outnumbered by ghosts.

  Tony walked up to the stage, eager to take things further.

  “OK!” he called out into the darkness. “I’d like all spirits

  here to come and join me on the stage. Move in nice and close

  so that we can take your photograph …”

  I took the photo immediately and gasped at what I saw. I’d

  never seen anything like it. There was Tony, a solitary figure on the stage, surrounded by more orbs than I could even begin

  to count. They made for a spectacular display! They were

  varying sizes and intensities, and all manner of colours.

  One in particular stood out more than the others, an

  intense orange orb just to the right of the stage. Whereas

  most of the others were a radiant variation of white, this one stood out as a more intense, vivid energy.

  It has been hypothesized that the reddish/orange energies

  correspond to earthbound entities and may relate to the sim-

  108 Haunted Theaters

  ilarly coloured base or root chakra. This is the chakra which

  connects us to the earth. Because these souls are earthbound,

  there is usually an emotional attachment or sense of unfin-

  ished business which is keeping them tethered to their earthly roots. As such, there may be negative emotional energy present, as they are invariably angry or dissatisfied.

  I suspected that the orange orb was that of the angry entity

  backstage; it felt as though he just skulked out from behind

  the curtain to show himself in the photo. What happened next

  made me think so all the more.

  As soon as Tony asked the theatre’s ghosts to gather around him, he was surrounded!

  Tony went on to ask if any ghosts or spirits would like to

  make some noise. He pointed out that this was their chance to

  further prove themselves. It took a few minutes of encourage-

  ment but the results were worth the wait.

  By now we were all standing in front of the stage, look-

  ing out towards the stalls. There was a sudden banging from

  the right of the stage, so loud and frightening that I jumped and grabbed onto Glenda. Someone (possibly me …) let out a

  Haunted Theaters 109

  shriek. Matilda and Eleanor were also clinging to each other,

  hearts racing.

  Tony concluded the evening by facilitating contact with

  some of the friendlier spirits, most of whom were part of

  the theatre community in days gone by. It seemed they had

  retained their connection to the theatre for positive reasons, as it had held happy memories they didn’t want to let go. Perhaps they were crossed over energies who just called in from time

  to time, happy to re-live their days in the theatre.

  Jock stepped in towards the end of the evening, confirming

  our suspicions about the ghost who roamed backstage. He iden-

  tified him as Walter, and told us that he was not at all impressed with us being there. Walter thought we were intruding and was

  adamant that we should leave.

  Whether it was because it was after midnight, or on account

  of Walter’s menacing presence, we decided to call it a night.

  And as we locked up behind ourselves, we couldn’t help feel-

  ing pleased. Despite the heart-stopping moments and Walter’s

  negativity, we would no doubt do it all again. We were buoyed

/>   by the success of our evening, and the conviction that that the spirit world had proven itself once again.

  chapter fourteen

  S t e v e

  Amid the bustle which makes up my average workday, an ele-

  ment of the amazing managed to worm its way in amongst

  the chaos. I was running behind schedule and my waiting

  room was beginning to fill up. I felt under increasing pressure as the afternoon wore on, especially since each time I walked

  into reception I was greeted by a sea of expectant faces.

  One gentleman seated directly opposite me caught my

  attention each time I entered the reception area. He exuded an air of calm and smiled as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

  He didn’t seem at all perturbed to be kept waiting. There was

  something almost familiar about him, although I knew we had

  never met.

  By the time I ushered him into my treatment room, I felt as

  though we had already made some kind of unspoken connec-

  tion. The feeling was reinforced as we shook hands and intro-

  duced ourselves. Steve took my hand in both of his and shook

  it firmly, smiling into my eyes with unmistakeable kindness.

  111

  112 Steve

  I took to examining Steve’s feet as he gave me the history

  of his condition. As debilitating as his foot pain had been, he didn’t stop smiling as he relayed the details of his complaint. I found myself grinning back, when perhaps it would’ve been

  more appropriate to assume a look of sympathetic concern. I

  just couldn’t help mirroring the happy face before me.

  I asked Steve to stand up so that I could check his foot and

  leg alignment, which is when the appointment took a dramatic

  turn. His foot condition was soon to be swiftly forgotten.

  “So …” I asked as I measured Steve’s arch. “What do you do for a living?”

  There was a long pause.

  “I’m a telephone counsellor …” he said. “I work in suicide

  prevention.”

  Given my recent interactions with the spirits of those who

  had suicided, Steve’s profession immediately struck a chord

  with me. I felt even more of a connection with him.

  Steve went on to tell me that his son took his own life five

  years ago; a tragedy which had prompted him towards his

  life’s vocation.

  I tried to maintain my composure and continue with the

  examination as we spoke, but pretty soon my professionalism

  would go flying spectacularly out the window. I could see that Steve was preparing to tell me more about his son, but could

  never have anticipated the bombshell he was about to deliver.

  He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders as he began to speak. He told me he thought it was time to come clean.

  I looked up at him expectantly, unable to imagine what

  coming clean could possibly entail. My routine day at the clinic was about to come to an end; replaced by a magical day I

  would never forget.

  Steve 113

  “I’m Gary’s dad,” smiled Steve.

  I was immediately flooded by an overwhelming onslaught

  of emotions.

  Gary … M y cheeky little bed-shaker! The spirit to whom I’d promised that I would speak to his parents! And now without even trying, I was fulfilling my part of our bargain . I was gob-smacked.

  I stood up and dropped my pen onto the desk. The busi-

  ness part of our appointment was undeniably over. Steve and I

  smiled at each other as we moved in for a heartfelt hug.

  “I am so delighted to finally meet you!” I said. “And I’ve so

  loved my interactions with your son … well at least everything bar the bed-shaking!”

  We sat beaming as we shared anecdotes about Gary’s

  recent visits. I was excited to discover that Steve himself had experienced a number of visitations from his son, many of

  them resonating with my own.

  Steve described how Gary had shown himself one evening

  as a smattering of bright flashing lights, whilst simultaneously allowing his energy to pulsate through his parents’ bed. Steve felt waves of vibration systematically coursing through the

  mattress, until the bed itself began to quiver. The way Steve described it, it sounded very much like my own late night visit from Gary; whereby the bed shaking was preceded by the feeling of energy rhythmically coursing beneath me.

  “It seems that’s Gary’s standard party trick, doesn’t it?” I

  said. “Oh and he’s also very good at focussing his energy on the table. He and Matt had it tipped over on its side in no time!”

  Steve also told me that for the duration of Gary’s visit, his

  body had felt entirely immobile. He was neither able to speak

  nor move, and just lay on the bed transfixed by the beautiful

  114 Steve

  lights before him. This sense of temporary paralysis is a fairly common aspect of a paranormal visitation, as the spirit makes

  use of the observers life-force in order to manifest. As a result of their energy being utilised by the spirit, the observer is able to do little more than take it all in.

  Since Steve knew his visitor was Gary, he didn’t consider

  his temporary immobility to be disturbing. He appreciated

  it to be part and parcel of an extraordinary experience, and

  allowed himself to savour the visit from his much-loved son.

  Steve also told me about a vivid interaction he and Gary had

  just a week after his death. Steve was sitting quietly one evening when he suddenly felt a palpable energy shift in the room.

  A moment later he saw his son standing before him, look-

  ing as he had when he was thirteen years old. Despite being

  twenty when he passed away, Steve believes Gary manifested

  as his thirteen-year-old self as he had been very happy at that age. It’s often said that our spirit selves take on the appearance of when we were in our prime, so perhaps to Gary, the onset

  of his teen years had indeed been the prime of his life.

  Steve described Gary as looking corporeal and real; he

  appeared so solid that it felt as though Steve could simply

  reach out and touch him. It was heart-rending and wonder-

  ful all at once.

  Judging by his appearance, it was obvious that young Gary

  had yet to cross-over; as his energy was very dense. Steve suspected that he was still earthbound and as painful as it was,

  encouraged his son to move on.

  “You can’t stay here mate,” said Steve sadly.”It’s time to go

  to Heaven …”

  As I sat listening to Steve’s story, Gary’s vibrant energy

  was buzzing around us. I had no doubt that he was overjoyed

  Steve 115

  at the latest development; and felt glad that at last contact

  between myself and his family had been made.

  I was repeatedly distracted by a bright light flashing on

  the empty chair across my desk, right beside where Steve was

  sitting. When I looked over and allowed my gaze to relax, it

  didn’t take long before a masculine figure began to appear.

  His form was defined by a pale, glowing luminescence; the

  unmistakable manifestation of a crossed over spirit. It appeared that Gary had definitely made the transition into the higher

  realms and was now watching over his family. It was heartening to know he was continuing on his spiritual journey.

  Steve went on to tell me that he felt sure that Gary had

  been instrumental in facilitating our meeting,
and that he had somehow managed to intensify Steve’s foot pain in order to

  ensure that he would to come to my clinic. Matilda had told

  Callum about my experiences with Gary, and had simply iden-

  tified me as a “podiatrist called Barbara.”

  Callum had then of course told his parents, and the wheels

  had been set into motion.

  Although Steve had attended my clinic some years earlier,

  he had been attended to by one of my staff members, rather

  than myself.

  “When I rang to make an appointment, they told me that

  my podiatrist had left,” Steve told me. “So I asked who else

  was available. When your receptionist said Barbara, the penny dropped that it just had to be you!”

  A quick scan of my Facebook author page confirmed that

  I was indeed the Barbara who had been communicating with

  his son. It all seemed somehow orchestrated; so much so that

  Steve couldn’t help thinking things were being subtly influ-

  enced by the other side. I couldn’t have agreed more!

  116 Steve

  As the appointment came to a close, I was yet to stop smil-

  ing. In a matter of minutes, my mundane, stress-filled after-

  noon had been transformed into something magical. Steve

  and I promised each other we would be in touch again soon,

  as I very much wanted to meet Gary’s mother and brother.

  And if by chance his family wanted to physically experi-

  ence their beloved Gary’s presence, I felt sure that all they had to do was say the word. Gary had not only ascended from the

  earth plane to the spiritual realms, he had also transcended

  the depression which had plagued him in life. He was now a

  vibrant, happy energy; and was eager to spread the word.

  Meeting Steve had given me further insight into my new

  spirit friend and I was very much looking forward to our next

  contact. Gary had a beautiful energy I couldn’t wait to interact with again. And if that meant allowing him to do his famous

  party-trick of shaking the bed then so be it; I think I’d be hard-pressed to ever find it scary again!

  chapter fifteen

  L a u r i e

  As much as I shy away from the term séance and its sinister connotations of conjuring up the dead, there is no denying