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Buildings storing “Vibes”. Fact or Fiction?
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I’ve been interested in the theory that buildings can absorb good and bad energy from its inhabitants.
I’ve had some personal experiences (most bad) that make it difficult for me to disbelieve this theory. I’ve done a search on this topic, and didn’t find any threads about such things.
Here’s a snippet from my past, to get things started.
During the early summer when I was 8, I’d usually be found outside, wearing a light pink jumpsuit and zooming around on skates. I loved that pink jumpsuit to death. It was great to be outside too, as I was often sickly, and stuck indoors.
Later that summer my mother and I went to visit a friend. I found out, much later, it was a friend of my mothers from church. It was a beautiful day, and my mother and I were happy to be out of the house (I’d been down with a nasty cold for two weeks.)
We parked in front of a nice enough middle-class house, and went to the door. A worn, anxious women appeared at the door, and invited us in. We found ourselves in the living room right away. A peculiar room even, as it was oval shaped, and had several doors leading to other areas. The next thing I noticed was that the walls of the living room were pink. And that it was rather dark inside. So the pink walls appeared a darker pink, and the doors were all dark wood.
My mother asked me to sit on the sofa and look at books on the nice ladies coffee table. Then she and the other women went through a door, closed it, and started to talk. I had VERY good manners at this period in my life, and never for a moment did it occur to me to eavesdrop. All I could hear was a low hum of conversation.
None of the books on the coffee table were interesting, so I got up, put my hands behind my back, and strolled around. (This was allowed, so long as I didn’t touch anything without asking first). Then I began to feel very odd. The room became somewhat oppressive. The late afternoon sun began to wan, and the room got darker. As a child I wasn’t afraid of the dark much, but I didn’t want to bump anything, so I sat down again.
The conversation continued, stayed at a low hum, and didn’t tell me a thing. But the house did. The longer I sat there (we were there for almost 40 minutes total), the worse I felt. The house reeked of fear, sorrow, despair, and a number of things my young 8-year-old mind didn’t then understand. Eventually, I could not stand it anymore, and I politely knocked and opened the door into the room my other and her friend had entered. They were both sitting at a kitchen table, my mothers friend was in tears, and my mother looked furious. I told my other I wasn’t feeling well, and that I would VERY MUCH! like wait outside on the porch steps. Anything to get out of that damn house!
My mother looked at me for a long second, and told me it was fine to go outside. (Plus the usual don’t go wandering around, don’t go near the road, bla bla bla).
So out I went. The sun was still out a bit, and sitting on the porch steps and watching the sun dip behind the nearby mountain’s beyond made me feel better. What I really wanted to do though, was go home and try to forget about the entire afternoon. The feelings I’d tuned into while in the house were really horrible.
A short time later my mother came outside. We got in our car, and drove home. My mother suggested I lay down for a bit, and off I went. The next morning, I found my pink jumpsuit, lovingly laundered for a new day, in my closet. I took one look at it, felt sick to my stomach, and tore it off the hanger.
At this point my memory fails me. But a few years later, when I finally broached this with my mother, she told me I had gone to her, told her I could no longer stand to wear anything pink, and handed her the jumpsuit. She also told me I would not explain why, and that she didn’t press me. Now that I could talk about this, I asked her to tell me what her friend had been so upset about, and asked her why she thought I had such an aversion to the house.
It turns out this women’s husband had been sexually and emotionally abusing this women for years. He made her do all kinds of sick things, and humiliated her when she tried to disobey. She had turned up at my mothers church looking for help, and my mother, who would never let a man do this to her, offered to help her new friend. Eventually she was able to convince her friend to leave her husband, and she went on to be a faithful church supporter, and ended up marrying another man and having a baby.
My mother, being such a rabid (yes, I use this word deliberately) religious person, proposed that God had whispered to me while we were in this women’s house. I didn’t believe that theory then, and I don’t now. I should mention here that my mother didn’t have problems with sex. In fact, and considering that she was very religious, she had a very liberal and healthy view of sex. I was never told sex was bad (unless it was out-of-wedlock). I’m deliberately not detailing the things this women’s husband did to her, because this is a forum with young members. Needless to say, I know what the words “sexual perversion” can mean, and this horrible man certainly also knew, and took them seriously.
30 years later, I still can’t stand darker pink colors. Seeing that color takes me right back to that afternoon in that house, and feeling all those horrible things that women was going through.
If anyone has tried to tell me this sort of “energy storage” isn’t possible, I tell him or her this story. They usually go away with a serious look, and some of them have later told me I had good reason to believe the way I did. A few of them then shared similar stories of their own.
Fact or fiction? I’d love to see what others have to say about this type of paranormal occurrence.
-VW
[edit on 21-3-2005 by VisionWithin]
I’ve had some personal experiences (most bad) that make it difficult for me to disbelieve this theory. I’ve done a search on this topic, and didn’t find any threads about such things.
Here’s a snippet from my past, to get things started.
During the early summer when I was 8, I’d usually be found outside, wearing a light pink jumpsuit and zooming around on skates. I loved that pink jumpsuit to death. It was great to be outside too, as I was often sickly, and stuck indoors.
Later that summer my mother and I went to visit a friend. I found out, much later, it was a friend of my mothers from church. It was a beautiful day, and my mother and I were happy to be out of the house (I’d been down with a nasty cold for two weeks.)
We parked in front of a nice enough middle-class house, and went to the door. A worn, anxious women appeared at the door, and invited us in. We found ourselves in the living room right away. A peculiar room even, as it was oval shaped, and had several doors leading to other areas. The next thing I noticed was that the walls of the living room were pink. And that it was rather dark inside. So the pink walls appeared a darker pink, and the doors were all dark wood.
My mother asked me to sit on the sofa and look at books on the nice ladies coffee table. Then she and the other women went through a door, closed it, and started to talk. I had VERY good manners at this period in my life, and never for a moment did it occur to me to eavesdrop. All I could hear was a low hum of conversation.
None of the books on the coffee table were interesting, so I got up, put my hands behind my back, and strolled around. (This was allowed, so long as I didn’t touch anything without asking first). Then I began to feel very odd. The room became somewhat oppressive. The late afternoon sun began to wan, and the room got darker. As a child I wasn’t afraid of the dark much, but I didn’t want to bump anything, so I sat down again.
The conversation continued, stayed at a low hum, and didn’t tell me a thing. But the house did. The longer I sat there (we were there for almost 40 minutes total), the worse I felt. The house reeked of fear, sorrow, despair, and a number of things my young 8-year-old mind didn’t then understand. Eventually, I could not stand it anymore, and I politely knocked and opened the door into the room my other and her friend had entered. They were both sitting at a kitchen table, my mothers friend was in tears, and my mother looked furious. I told my other I wasn’t feeling well, and that I would VERY MUCH! like wait outside on the porch steps. Anything to get out of that damn house!
My mother looked at me for a long second, and told me it was fine to go outside. (Plus the usual don’t go wandering around, don’t go near the road, bla bla bla).
So out I went. The sun was still out a bit, and sitting on the porch steps and watching the sun dip behind the nearby mountain’s beyond made me feel better. What I really wanted to do though, was go home and try to forget about the entire afternoon. The feelings I’d tuned into while in the house were really horrible.
A short time later my mother came outside. We got in our car, and drove home. My mother suggested I lay down for a bit, and off I went. The next morning, I found my pink jumpsuit, lovingly laundered for a new day, in my closet. I took one look at it, felt sick to my stomach, and tore it off the hanger.
At this point my memory fails me. But a few years later, when I finally broached this with my mother, she told me I had gone to her, told her I could no longer stand to wear anything pink, and handed her the jumpsuit. She also told me I would not explain why, and that she didn’t press me. Now that I could talk about this, I asked her to tell me what her friend had been so upset about, and asked her why she thought I had such an aversion to the house.
It turns out this women’s husband had been sexually and emotionally abusing this women for years. He made her do all kinds of sick things, and humiliated her when she tried to disobey. She had turned up at my mothers church looking for help, and my mother, who would never let a man do this to her, offered to help her new friend. Eventually she was able to convince her friend to leave her husband, and she went on to be a faithful church supporter, and ended up marrying another man and having a baby.
My mother, being such a rabid (yes, I use this word deliberately) religious person, proposed that God had whispered to me while we were in this women’s house. I didn’t believe that theory then, and I don’t now. I should mention here that my mother didn’t have problems with sex. In fact, and considering that she was very religious, she had a very liberal and healthy view of sex. I was never told sex was bad (unless it was out-of-wedlock). I’m deliberately not detailing the things this women’s husband did to her, because this is a forum with young members. Needless to say, I know what the words “sexual perversion” can mean, and this horrible man certainly also knew, and took them seriously.
30 years later, I still can’t stand darker pink colors. Seeing that color takes me right back to that afternoon in that house, and feeling all those horrible things that women was going through.
If anyone has tried to tell me this sort of “energy storage” isn’t possible, I tell him or her this story. They usually go away with a serious look, and some of them have later told me I had good reason to believe the way I did. A few of them then shared similar stories of their own.
Fact or fiction? I’d love to see what others have to say about this type of paranormal occurrence.
-VW
[edit on 21-3-2005 by VisionWithin]
Wow, that house really put an impression on you that you've never forgotten. How awful for that poor woman! Yes, vibes of strong emotions are
almost
always picked up by the sensitive among us. I can walk into a
place and tell you whether or not the "vibes" or good or bad to
me. Most times I can tell specifically whether it's anger, sadness,
fear, or even happiness.
I like "happy" houses or "clean" houses. Clean houses are basically
places where no one has really lived (like a new one) or where not much emotional unheaval has went on inside it.
And I can relate to your feelings of wanting to get out of that house,
I've been in several that felt like that to me. It's such a relief when you finally get to go outside.
I'm lucky I live in a new place where there is'nt any other "vibes" but mine
and my family's!
always picked up by the sensitive among us. I can walk into a
place and tell you whether or not the "vibes" or good or bad to
me. Most times I can tell specifically whether it's anger, sadness,
fear, or even happiness.
I like "happy" houses or "clean" houses. Clean houses are basically
places where no one has really lived (like a new one) or where not much emotional unheaval has went on inside it.
And I can relate to your feelings of wanting to get out of that house,
I've been in several that felt like that to me. It's such a relief when you finally get to go outside.
I'm lucky I live in a new place where there is'nt any other "vibes" but mine
and my family's!
Originally posted by elaine
Wow, that house really put an impression on you that you've never forgotten. How awful for that poor woman! Yes, vibes of strong emotions are almost
always picked up by the sensitive among us. I can walk into a
place and tell you whether or not the "vibes" or good or bad to
me. Most times I can tell specifically whether it's anger, sadness,
fear, or even happiness.
Elaine, thanks very much for posting. And btw, I've been admiring your avator for a while now, when I saw your post's elsewhere
Anyways, I'm glad to see that someone else has a belief in this. I too like new homes, although I've been in them so rarely.
In fact, I feel very comfortable in museums, libraries and some retail centers. Probably because they are "neutral".
I've had other occasions when I felt I was picking up negative vibes, but they were always inhabited dwellings.
I admit some curiosity towards older buildings that haven't had inhabitants for some goodly while. Any experience with such buildings?
-VW
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