My Possession

 

Dan Weidman

Before attending the first Haunted Mansion Weekend in September 2010, I was curious and excited to experience new things and make new friends. I wanted to see something unexplainable.

Most of what happened to me that weekend, though, was debunked. The mysterious voice whispering to me to get out turned out to be Rain, our beloved hostess for the weekend. Porch lights turning on and off, seemingly by themselves, were caused by other attendees who discovered the switch on the top floor. Finally, the old man with a fishing hat over his face, lying atop the daybed in the dining room, who asked me to keep the light on at 1:00 a.m., was actually a part-time house staffer and not an apparition.

All the same, I felt drawn to a certain room in the house the entire weekend. Goose bumps appeared on my arms and the back of my neck whenever I thought of or walked near the bedroom in the southwest corner on the third floor. As I walked up the top-floor stairs, this feeling grew stronger the closer I moved to the room in the front of the house. That first weekend, I only visited the room twice, both times during the day. I was too afraid to go in there at night. To this day, any time I remember the house, my thoughts lead to that room.

Goose bumps always follow.

~

Growing up, I was skeptical of all things haunted. I was raised in a loving, religious home with the Bible as my moral guide. I was taught that this book was the truth and anything else a lie. I attended church every Sunday until I was twelve.

In my adult life, I knew there was more out there. Eventually I developed my own belief system, taking the good aspects of the Good Book and discarding the rest. Believing in everything and nothing at the same time became my mantra. I was open to the possibility of other dogmas, yet accepted the plausibility of atheism. Curiosity about the spiritual world came next. The potential for trapped entities and spirits or the fantasy of ghosts, demons, and the possessed intrigued me.

I longed for but never have seen an apparition, heard a disembodied voice, or seen an object move on its own. However, looking back, I have had a few unnatural experiences that I dismissed. At least, I dismissed them until my own supernatural incident at the second Haunted Mansion Retreat.

~

In my early 20s, I lived in a small southern Oregon town. My girlfriend at the time lived in an even smaller town about ten miles east, in the middle of nowhere. It was a very unhealthy relationship. We fought constantly. One night, as I drove back to her house, we were shouting at each other. She was mad at me for something I’m not even sure I did. It was one of those arguments that seemed so big and unresolvable in the moment.

We pulled into her driveway, stopping as close as I could to her front porch. She stormed into the house and slammed the door, leaving me alone in my car. Overcome with frustration, I slumped over the steering wheel and searched for answers. What did I do? How did she get so angry at me? Why did I let myself get so angry?

The weird experience started small. I felt my head slowly being pulled upward. It felt like the reverse of gravity. Energy outside of me tilted my head.

I made the conscious decision to go with it. In slow motion, my head raised until it came even with my shoulders. I felt not just lightheaded, but the rest of me slowly became weightless. I was straightened up until my back pressed against the driver’s seat. The top of my skull hit the headrest. My mouth opened. I stared up at the ceiling as my chest and torso rose.

My eyes closed. I felt peaceful. My mind emptied of thoughts about my relationship. Clarity replaced them. White light filled my mind. I felt comforted and sensed a heaven-like existence. I knew I had to make a choice: Move on to a new spiritual world or stay here.

I decided to stay.

Once I made the choice, the energy left my head. My upper body sank back down into the seat.

It was scary. Adrenaline restored my energy enough to drive home. I only told my father months later, but did not tell anyone else.

As the years went by, I thought about it less and less.

~

Six years later, I worked graveyard as a janitor at a high-end athletic club that had been around for over a hundred years. In one of the aerobic rooms, the floor had a mysterious hump where the tile and the plywood beneath it would rise up. No one could anyone explain how this happened. No pipes that might cause warpage in the wood ran under this part of the flooring, but still it had to be replaced every six months or so.

One night, when the hump was at its highest point and the floor was going to be renovated soon, I felt compelled to explore. I walked into the room and stepped directly on top of the hump. An energy immediately began pulling me down. I decided to go with it.

Instead of rising, my body became heavy. I slumped down slowly: first my chin to my neck, then my shoulders to my knees. Finally my fingers touched the floor. Standing there, with knees bent and body folded in half, I realized I wasn’t in control of my own body.

Taking back control, I stood up straight and stepped quickly off the mound. Unlike the first incident, I didn’t feel as though I was going to some supernatural place. Something else was pulling me down to the floor.

I was scared, but dismissed it.

~

I reflect now on both of these occasions because of what happened to me during my recent stay at the Haunted Mansion. If you continue reading, please keep in mind that I am a happy-go-lucky, mild-mannered individual who remains skeptical but open-minded. Both as I write this and during the events themselves, I searched for plausible explanations. I come up empty every time.

~

In September of 2012, Rain hosted another haunted weekend at the Mansion, complete with the same investigating team—the GhostGirls—as well as veteran and new attendees. This time, brave or just stupid, I felt more experienced. I decided to sleep in that third-floor room.

The first night, I thought nothing of significance happened. Later, I remembered a possible clue as to what was to come. Attracted to the peaceful night, I went out onto the front porch after dinner. As I stared across the driveway, beyond the well-kept lawn and into the dark forest, a thought occurred to me: a dozen eyes watched me. I looked to the left and felt a thousand eyes. I did the math. Six beings in the forest straight ahead and 500 in the void to the left—assuming they all had two eyes. Whatever the number, they seemed nonhuman, even animalistic.

Dismissing these feelings and tired from my first night in the Mansion, I walked up the stairs to the third floor to go to sleep in my room. As before, the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end constantly any time I was in the room. I was too exhausted to care what caused it.

I woke up in the middle of the night a few times, but gently fell back to sleep. Slumber overcame my fear.

~

The next night, the GhostGirls took groups around to ghost hunt. I decided to do some investigating on my own in my room on the third floor. I sat on the bed and began asking questions into the recorder app on my iPhone, to see if I could hear any responses when I played it back later.

Familiar energy washed over me, pulling me down slowly until I lay on my back. Scared yet still curious, I decided to go with it. Like my two previous experiences, an energy was taking over.

I listened, as the GhostGirls, Rain, and Sèphera—one of the veteran attendees who reads tarot with Rain—set up equipment in the room adjacent to mine.

The energy inside me was slow and steady, making my chest lift and drop while my back arched and rounded against the mattress. This continued for a minute or so. It had the rhythm of an ocean buoy rising and falling with each wave. It didn’t hurt, but I felt less control as my upper body continued to move up and down. From here on out, the percentage of something taking over my actions and brain gradually increased. Some thing was manipulating me like Pinocchio being controlled by strings. I wanted to stay a real boy. I didn’t trust these feelings and wanted answers.

I decided to join the investigators, who’d begun a tarot reading. I left my room and walked next door, where I sat on the corner of one of the beds. Feeling heavy physically, I watched the paranormal activity: flashlights blinking on and off to answer questions. The tight feeling around my lungs made it difficult to breathe.

Soon, more people were drawn to the investigation room. Chris Marrs sat next to me on the bed. As she did, something pulled me down. I fought it at first, but was curious to see where it would take me. First my back slouched. Then my head drooped forward. I felt my face contort as my cheeks and eye muscles twitched. I remember not wanting Chris or anyone else in the room to see my face.

At some point, Scott asked if I was feeling the same energy as the past experiences. What he must have seen was me on the bed corner, my head facing down, my body slumped halfway over, my right leg slightly extended, my left leg bent, and my hands dangling to the floor between my legs. I turned my head and responded with a soft yes. He acknowledged that I looked weighted down.

Finished with this room, we all decided to explore other areas of the house. I had enough energy of my own to stand up and follow the others out.

As I exited, I wanted to explore my room again, but wanted someone to go with me. Sèphera was toward the back of the group near me. I asked her to join me in my room to do some investigating.

I felt a hard tug and entered the two-bed room backward as the energy controlling me pulled me through the door. I sat down hard on the bed closest to the window, the one I slept in the night before. Sèphera sat on the bed closest to the entrance to the room.

As I explained my connection to this area of the house, I felt my body weighed down again. I heard my voice going into a falsetto, changing like I was thirteen and suffering through puberty all over again.

Soon after, the weight of everything pulled me off the bed, down onto the floor. I felt the metal bed frame, box springs, and mattress against my back. I continued talking in a high-pitched, crackly voice. Sèphera asked me if she should get Rain. I nodded uncertainly. She hurried out.

This was the first time I blacked out. I am not sure how much time passed. The next thing I remember is someone saying, “Oh, my God, it’s pulling him under the bed!”

I lay on my back on the floor. I had my own independent thoughts, but did not have the strength to move. My right arm reached under the bed; my left arm reached the opposite way. My face pressed hard against the metal frame of the bed. I was terrified, completely out of control of my own body.

I vaguely heard Rain charge into the room, yelling. I blacked out again.

When I woke, I was still in the room, still on my back on the floor. My feet had turned around toward the bed I had been under. Weston and Scott dragged me out of the room.

Once I struggled to my feet, Wes and my brother Steve helped me down the three flights of stairs. After we got to the foyer, Rain stood right behind me. She said that she sent whatever it was that overcame me outside.

I said, “It wants me to go outside.” I felt compelled to go out the front door. Rain slammed the door and sat me down on the chair just to the right of it. She poured sea salt on my head. My legs kicked out uncontrollably.

For a brief second, I began to float, to rise out of the chair. Rain sat on top of me to hold me down. She called on all the gods that would listen. Beyond terrified, I wrapped my arms around her. Holding on for dear life.

Rain asked my brother Steve to help her build a protection shield in the shape of a white bubble around me. As they did this, my legs fell to the ground. I felt the energy leave me.

My arms still clasped around her, I squeezed tighter: a thank you hug.

We both got out of the chair. Rain gave me a glass of water and guided me into the living room. As in the previous retreat, the living room was named the Safe Room. It was much needed.

I sat on a couch and rehydrated as I tried to bring my energy and sense of self back. Rain asked me to picture a white bubble surrounding me. I couldn’t picture it, so I grabbed a piece of white construction paper and colored pencils from the coffee table nearby. I started drawing myself as I usually do when drawing self-portraits: with a shirt and tie. I used black as the outlining color, brown for my hair, etc. I drew a circle around me. That circle became an eye.

Rain suggested I color the picture in with blue, since it is a tranquil color. I did, but quickly noticed that the bottom of the circle was drawn through my cartoon legs. Shortly afterward, I began to feel my legs rising and my body being taken over again. My neck was tightening. It was difficult to breathe again.

Chris mentioned that I needed to make my circle bigger, because my legs weren’t protected. I crumpled up my original picture and started fresh. This time I used nothing but the light blue color and drew myself naked. I drew the circle surrounding me much larger this time. Rain encouraged me to physically push out the energy. I grounded myself and said, “Get out! You are not welcome here. My name is Dan Weidman and I am my own person.”

Although I was drained and physically exhausted, I felt like myself again. I decided not to sleep in that third-floor room. Instead, I slept in the living room with Loren and Stacey on sofas around me to keep me safe.

~

The next morning I woke up, uncertain if the past night’s events were a dream or real. To confirm the latter, my drawings lay on the coffee table in front of me.

I spent the rest of the time at the Mansion socializing with my friends, trying to keep my mind off Friday night’s events. I am so thankful Rain and everyone else who helped me was there. I shudder to think what would have happened if they hadn’t been.

I remain unsure what happened that night and where it fits with my past experiences, but I am certain of a few things. I will stay away from the spiritual world until I gain more knowledge. If I do explore the unknown or return to that house, I will investigate with friends—not on my own. In the meantime, I am no longer a skeptic. If you ask me now what I believe, my answer is, “I believe in everything.”