B0FF0's Brain Activity Page

Penn Castle; Built 1888; Notice old Marilla (Mrs. Penn) at lower left. We had arguments over whether that was old Reverend Penn on the top porch or not, but it seems to just be vines.

Orb I caught in one of the dining rooms of Penn Castle. Indeed, most "orb" photos are actually DUST. In my opinion, folks, this one is real. The builder of the house,William Penn, not only has a portrait hanging in this very room, but also had himself depicted as a knight or a saint in one of the stained glass windows, has ink 'pens' repeated throughout the house, cast into the newel post, on one of the stained glass windows in the upstairs chapel, and a pen on the weather vane on top of the chapel roof- as a theme of his name. So if this is a spirit, it is surely him! There is a pane of stained glass built into the front parlor wall on a hinge, with a light behind it, that says "Prophets Chamber." (Yes, there is no apostrophe, and there is a period!)

But I am sidetracked. This was not intended to be a blog about Penn Castle (of which there have been a few which were lost on other now defunct sites). This was and IS to be a brief account of some of the ghosts I have met in my life.
Instead of remembering and writing it all over again, I have found in my old lost email account the blog I did before, and I'm copy/pasting it,  so if you've known me long, it's a repeat.
Thank you kindly for your interest in my long drawn out blogs.
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I have been asked to tell you a few of my ghost stories. You can choose for yourselves whether or not to believe what I tell you. Just keep in mind that I am a pretty honest person, I hate a liar, and I have no reason whatsoever to ever lie to my friends. Especially about something so important to me, because I have seen these things all my life, and I only know what I have experienced. I might not believe me either if I hadn't been there...
My earliest memory is of McAlester, OK, ... of whispering voices coming from my parents' bedroom which I clearly remember from when I was about 3-5 yrs old. The room would be empty with the family all in the 'front room' and I heard it coming through the doorway lots of times. It sounded like those EVP 'ghost sounds' people record. Lots of whispering all at once. I can't listen to those. It still scares me. Later in life, I mentioned it and my mom and sisters said yes, that was a spooky old house and Mom and Dad's room was the 'scary room'. Other than that I have wonderful memories of that house.
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~Skip several years...

My Dad was a Navy man so we moved every few years. After OK we spent five years in a small Louisiana town, still known for its haunted old plantation homes. The one we lived in cost my folks $50.00 a month to rent. It is the house in the picture, only it was pale green when we lived there, when I was 8-12 yrs old. The house had 'history' and my parents were friends of the couple who owned it. They were colorful people- he had once been the sheriff of the old town and she was an antique collector and renovated several old plantations.
It is a wonder that I wasn't harmed there. I learned years later that the ladies of the town had marched up to my mother's door, and told her they would not tolerate the large amount of money that she was paying her 'help' because their own maids were 'getting uppity' because of it, and if she did not pay Ida less money, then a cross would be burned in our yard!!! My parents were just paying the maid fairly for what they felt her services were worth. Dad had then retired from the Navy as Chief Pharmacist and was heading a Blood Plasma Research business. So they had a little more money then. This was the 1960s when segregation was just ending, and most everyone had a black maid. I never knew anything about what had happened till I was grown up years later. I remember Ida though! She got to appear in the movie Hurry Sundown (Jane Fonda) which was filmed there in that town. So I can still see her if I go rent the movie.
The house was a beautiful two story old home with giant live oaks covered with Spanish Moss and Azaleas and Camellias and Wisteria grew everywhere. The house sat on three acres one block off the main street. I spent much of my time high up in a Mimosa tree, or playing marbles (I still have my marbles- the ones I didn't lose anyway) or hopscotch (REALLY!!!) with my many friends, or wandering the wooded part of the yard (alone... again I marvel I was not kidnapped or killed)... or finding old bottles (which I still have- GOOD ones!) My mother ran the Campfire Girls , so I was lucky enough to have that and a lot of friends which I mentioned before. School was okay. I had fun at recess. I wan those stupid 'popularity contests' that they used to do at that time and got my picture in the yearbook a lot. I am not bragging, just telling you I did have a life, and for some reason it wasn't at all spoiled by the little trauma I faced each night.~The dream...
Your average nightmare with slick wood floors and socks that slip when you try to run... of getting up and walking towards the bathroom when something dark and scary comes out chasing... I run, with difficulty till I get even with the big closet door, and the door flies open and there is FIRE, like hell in there... GASP - I wake up.
I am awake. I am only 8 (or 9, or 10,...) and I don't fully realize that the shape of a man who looms over my bed is not really supposed to be there. But he stands there and looks down at me sadly. His clothes seem tattered somehow and he is dark. In my child's mind I called him "frankenstein". Well, ol' Frankenstein didn't exactly give me a nice warm fuzzy feeling, so, covered in goosebumps I tried to scream, but my voice wouldn't work, only came out a whisper, and I eventually must have simply passed out from terror, because that would be it... till the next night, and the night after that, and the next, and every night that we lived in that house. Because the same exact sequence would occur every time. And not really realizing it was a ghost I was seeing, and half-believing it was normal, I would talk about it to my friends, which might explain why none of them keep in touch with me any more since we grew up. I always looked for old places that gave me that 'feeling' but I still don't think I really put it all together until we moved away.
My sister, who was away in Tulsa at college, came home once, and slept in my bed. She woke up screaming hysterically and sobbed for hours. I remember my Mom trying to comfort her. She would never tell what she had dreamed, and now she denies remembering the episode. I remember it. And I'm pretty sure I know what she saw too.
Later my Mom and sister told me that the stairway and the upstairs rooms scared them too, and they sometimes just could not go up there. I used to fight my way through the fear and force myself up there! I would defiantly go in that upstairs room, the spooky bathroom adjoining and sometimes even the attic, which was behind this arched door. There was an old trunk up there which I have now. After a while I would just be scared shitless, and would almost fly down those stairs in a panic.
The owners later told my mother, when she asked them, that the house had had a tragic fire in the Civil War, and the end where my room was had burnt. The owner had died trying to rescue his little daughter.
That was the most frightening and longest haunting I hope I ever have to experience.
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~The Man On The Horse
1984 - One child in school and one sleeping baby... Long days of, in between chores, wandering alone around the rural East Texas farm we managed for a time in exchange for a place to park our travel trailer and live... big old semi-abandoned farmhouse, later to burn to the ground, aw... but then its porches had the gracefulness of memories of the family who must have built it, and the generations of life there since then, large old grandaddy oaks kept it shaded through the sweltering heat... old barn, old well, nothing but the sounds of the chickens and guineas and geese and turkeys and peacocks and ducks and dogs and pigs and horses and cows and goats and birds and the breeze sighing through the trees... 
I was behind the barn, walking through some wheaty kind of stuff when I looked at the road and I saw a man on a horse, sitting there, the chestnut-colored horse's tail switchin and I swear I heard it snort, which was very ordinary because the people up and down the road out there all own horses and ride around all the time, so it was an every day thing to have somebody like old Howard from down the way stop and chat. I waved and was making my way thru this tall grass ...I remember it was windy because that yellow colored straw stuff was blowing like waves, and when I got to the fence and looked up-
THERE IS NO ONE THERE. NO MAN ON NO HORSE.
Nobody at all. I felt strangely abandoned. Very much alone. I still remember the feeling. 
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~I have had many more incidences which I can never go into, because I have just had so many brushes with the other side, that it isn't possible or necessary to tell every single incident, though I view every single instance of the supernatural enigma I have seen as a wonder and a lucky miracle of the natural universe. 
I appreciate being granted an ability to see. I have EVEN been personally taught by several talented souls, angels if you will... who deemed me (us) worthy enough, through the most intensive series of dream visitations to impart the ability to play an instrument... and to be hired into a really tough-led no-jivin band, for which I (we) had absolutely no background, and played pro for a decade- let's not forget Scott, who was with me the whole way, also learning to play, and we even shared these dreams lots of times.... during two years ...all by osmosis.
Journals I wrote during that time have amazing truths in every page. Prophecies, pictures (I drew one of this very house we now own), letters to people then unknown to me... Friends online who I see hard evidence of psychic connections with every day! A wisp of cigarette smoke when my Dad's been dead for years... Other strange happenings at my mother's house that everyone in the family sees. Stuff going on with me right now. This all shows me that there is a lot more to the world than this life we suffer. There really is. This is merely a chapter. Energy does not die. It transfers, and the dying is only a transition. I have been given all the proof I need within my own self. So I feel secure enough to post this, and let you know what I have seen. And you can think I'm nuts. It's okay. I probably wouldn't believe me either. Maybe...
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