E x p e r i e n c e s

Many things happen in your life and not all of them can be explained.  I started having some strange experiences at the age of seven.  I would never say I have any exceptional abilities but I would say I'm sensitive.  I've given a lot of thought as to whether my experiences really happened or did I just image they did.  My conclusions are they are not imaginary.

I like my pages to reflect the subject but don't be mislead by my little ghosts, ghoulish lettering and The Phantom playing in the background.  That is the fun of putting together a website.

You can read the following and laugh, be intrigued or fully understand.  It's all up to you because I don't normally discuss this topic and I don't blame anyone who needs to find a rational explanation either.  I'm at the time of my life where I realize it's OK not to have answers to everything.  A little mystery is fine.


This was my first brush with the paranormal.  I don't really like that word but it's today's terminology.  It was 1954 (I was 7 years old) and my paternal great grandmother died.  We were close and I really liked her.  Her name was Emma Drew and she was blind.  Today I'm sure her problem would be correctable but not then.  She used a white cane.  Although she was legally blind she would see fuzzy colours.  I remember her as a tall woman with long arms and legs.  She would sit in a chair and I'd stand with my elbows on her knees and talk to her.  Her hand was always on my cheek.  Most times she would tell me the colour I was wearing.  
"I see you have a pink dress on today".

One day I came home from school to find my grandfather Drew sitting at the kitchen table and he told me that his mother had died.  He took me to the funeral home with him to arrange for her funeral.  

That night I crawled into bed and was laying on my side.  I had just lain down so I wasn't even trying to go to sleep yet.  Suddenly my right cheek was very cold and I put my hand on it to see what it was but my hand didn't touch my cheek.  At the same instance I screamed and my Mother came running down the hall.  Before she got there the cold slipped away and my hand was on my face.  My mother yelled "what is wrong" and very calmly I answered "it's OK, it was just grandma saying goodbye".  Mom never asked me what I meant by that comment.  It never occurred to me, at that time, that this wasn't a normal occurrence that had just taken me by surprise.  However I remember it today as if it happened yesterday.  She gave me a tender lasting memory.

my great grandmother Emma (Martin) Drew


In 1964 my parents decided to take me on a surprise trip to Washington DC.  I was of an age and time that I had taken great note of the assassination of President Kennedy.  They thought I might like to make the trip.  We did all the tourist things.  One being visiting the Capitol building.  There is an old staircase with a huge chandelier.  The steps are actually worn to depressed in the middle.  I was half-way up the stairs when all of a sudden I couldn't move or breath.  It was like every person who had passed up or down that staircase was on it at that moment and I felt so weighed down and unable to get any air that for maybe 15 seconds I couldn't move.  I have never experienced that before or since but it is one of the main reasons, though I'd like to, I doubt I could go in old castles or particularly the Tower of London.


Friends of ours own an island in Northern Ontario.  We go up with them for holidays some summers.  Now I must admit I had been told the story of the island years before.  There had been a Native massacre between two warring bands.  This island is long and narrow and all the islands are really just huge rocks jutting out of the water.  Over the years a growth has covered them.  Thick layers of evergreen needles give the appearance of earth and they are densely treed.  The ground cover makes a strange sound when you walk on it.  It is a dull, muffled thump that sounds like a heart beating.  On this island there are two cabins.  They are kept as they were built.  No hydro, telephones or running water.  Between the main cabin and the guest cabin there is a hollow that runs across parallel to the cabins.  I was in bed against the window facing this hollow.  My husband had already fallen asleep.

Out of nowhere came the sounds of people running past the window next to me.  It was a very large number of people.  It was a language I didn't understand.  They were screaming and the sound left no doubt there were people dying.  I heard the sound of clubs or something solid hitting heads with sickening thud.  Some voices were so close to the window I inched more to the centre of the bed.  I could hardly move and my heart was pounding so hard I thought they could hear it.  I ended up pulling the blanket over my head.  When it had passed by the window, and I heard the noise more by the water I did what any good wife would do I whacked my sleeping husband on the shoulder because I couldn't believe he didn't hear it.  His response was "hear what?".  I was trying to make him be quiet so they wouldn't know we were there.  He assured me it was probably a Loon.  If it was a Loon it was 500 Loons 2 feet from the window and Loons don't usually speak in foreign tongues!

I didn't mention this again until I got talked into going to a psychic party at my friend and bosses' house.  It was all the women from work except a friend who, for religious reasons, didn't attend.  I told her "if she doesn't know about Capt. William Hall" I won't listen to anything she says.  Many years ago I was told I had a friendly, elderly gentleman behind me looking after me.  Over the years I determined him to be my great great grandfather Capt. William Hall.  I had never mentioned this to anyone at work.  It wasn't known by anyone there.  I walked into the room and almost the first thing out of her mouth was "who is William?".  I replied "my husband".  Her response was "no, this man died a long time ago and he's standing right behind you".  Well she had my attention and had a lot more to say about people I was aware of.  One thing she said was "Catharine wants to meet you" to which I replied I didn't know who she meant.  She said she was standing close to Capt. Hall and they were obviously closely related.  Capt. Hall's mother was Catharine Johnston.  When she finished she asked if I had anything I wanted to know about so I told her about the incident on the island.  She was emphatic and said "that is a vortex and you shouldn't go back there because you could be drawn into it".  I'd never heard of a vortex before that.  Oh I'd heard the word but had no idea it was a "portal".

(only known picture of Capt. Hall)

We headed for the island again the next year but in the back of my mind was the warning.  I didn't tell people about the night I heard the fight.  The guys were off doing some chore and my friend and I were lounging around the dock.  I decided to confide in her about my experience.  As soon as I told her she said "the same thing happened to me so now, the minute I arrive on the island, I make peace with it".  She assured me it hadn't happened again.  However my next visit left me alone in the cabin for the first night.  It was pouring rain and I was very apprehensive.  I finally feel asleep with my headphones on and was listening to a Jimmy Buffett CD for about the third time and singing "you and me and rain on the roof" at the top of my lungs.  If they were out there I didn't hear them.


The next few incidents centre around my Mother's death.  Everyone has family that dies but not all are privileged to see the process on a one to one basis.  Mom wished to remain home when she was informed she was ill and there was nothing that could be done for her.  I promised her that she could stay in her home.  She lived well on her own for a  year.  I stopped by her house on my way home from a few days up north.  She was quite normal.  When I came the next morning to put the garbage out I found her in bed.  It was that day I didn't go home for more than an hour for over nine months.

My husband and I lived about 20 minutes away and luckily going to work he only had to go a couple of blocks out of the way to stop by each morning and evening.  It was difficult and both Mom and I realized, without his agreement  this situation wouldn't work.  The doctor seemed to think she was very close to death.  Well she went eight months after that statement.  You must understand that even as pain medication was increased she wasn't incoherent.  She was weak, losing weight, but talked and didn't have trouble remembering things.   


One day she asked me who the male nurse was at night that gave her the pills.  I told her that there were no male nurses and she didn't get pills during the night.  Mom was never one to argue the point with people.  The subject was dropped.  Her pills were issued on a 30 day basis and the pharmacy wouldn't renew until 3 days before the end of the prescription she had.  I did her pills up in one of those 7 day containers and had done one weeks worth.  When I went to fill up the next week I noticed there weren't enough pills to make it for 30 days.  That sent me off to the kitchen to find a calendar.  When the nurse came for her daily visit I grabbed her to count the pills and check the calendar.  She was missing 14 pills which was 7 days worth.  I was panicking because I knew I couldn't get more.  The nurse came up with the same numbers as I did and called the doctor to get the pills re-issued so we could finish the month off.  Now you must know my mother couldn't get at her pills.  There is no doubt she wasn't getting them herself.  A night nurse stayed once a week for me to get a good sleep.  Mom couldn't get out of bed and had to be turned every couple of hours.  The lady who came was as trustworthy as they come.  Those pills weren't available to anyone but me and I wasn't giving out extra pills in the middle of the night.  I had medication that was injected if necessary.  So it's anyone's guess who was giving out pills.  They were definitely gone.


This is without a doubt the most profound of all the incidents that have happened to me.  Near the end of my Mother's life I had an encounter that totally threw me off guard.  I was doing her laundry in the basement and it was time to go and empty the dryer.  She didn't want to be alone but I told her I would be right back.  I made it half way downstairs when she called so I went back up.  This happened a couple of times and I was reassuring her I would only be a minute.  Living in the house I had stored my clothes and things I had brought from home in the old "rec" room.  To get to the dryer I would go straight down the stairs and across the room.  As I got to the bottom I remembered I needed some clothes and thought I would grab them while I was there so I turned right.  I was moving fast as I knew I had very little time until Mom called again.  This is when I ran into the man in the basement.  He was standing just to the right of my path so I saw his profile and not face on.  I almost hurt myself trying to step right foot over left to turn and avoid running into him.  At that same moment I called out the name of my son's friend as a question more than a statement.  As if to ask "what are you doing here".  When I turned back he was gone.  You can "think" you saw something but you don't put names to it.  That is how clear this person was.  I remember a very old fashioned suit with high white collar and fair wavy hair.  I grabbed the laundry and forgot about my clothes.  It was nighttime and I didn't return to the basement until daylight the next day.  Mom was unaware anything happened and I left it that way.  As I thought about it (it was impossible not to think about it because my heart was pounding for a long time) I realized I recognized that man but couldn't figure out why.  A couple of days later I thought to go to the "rec" room and look though some old photos.  I thought it looked alittle like my Dad's father but I would have bet money he has bone straight hair.  There was the man in the basement.  My grandfather at about the age of 16.  His hair had a wave on the forehead and a slight wave over the ear.  High collar and all.  And he looks a lot like my son's friend.

(Young Les Drew)

This didn't seem strange at all because he and my Mother were very close.  He always looked after her and treated her like a daughter and here he was standing almost directly under the head of her bed.  I figure he was waiting for her.   I have to say again my mother was rational and thinking but occasionally, when we were talking or laughing about something she would look away and then she'd be staring and smiling and would say Momma and move her hand towards where she was looking then look back and continue with what she was saying to me.  She was 14 when her mother died.  She also talked to her brother and father both of whom were also deceased.  We always kept things light and we didn't dwell on what was happening.  She never had any interest in my genealogy passion.  Didn't even want to know things I found out.  I had told her that there was almost certainly a North American Native in her line.  With all the people she conversed with I told her to watch for the Native and see if she could find out who he was.  She'd laugh and say she was trying.  She never seemed to find it strange that I said she was talking to these people.  They were there for her and she didn't doubt it.

 Not long after my Mother just asked "is there anything we need to talk about".  I told her no.  Mom was long past any point the medical professionals thought she would see.  (I know that it is stated that sometimes a person has to be given the "permission" to die.  How do you just out of the blue say "oh by the way Mom it's OK to die if you want to"?  You just can't do that.)  Then Mom looked at me and said, very apologetically , "they want me to go with them and they've been waiting a long time".  Then I could do it!  I simply told her "next time they come you should go with them".  Within a couple of hours she slipped into a deep sleep and passed away 2 days later.  Her body remained but there was nothing of her any longer.

I will never, ever pass and elderly person tied in a wheelchair and talking to themselves and think "poor soul".  I'm sure now that this life no longer works for them but the next one is welcoming them.  They aren't as alone as we think they are.  This is why I said at the beginning I was privileged to see the end of her life.  She let me see it.


It was now time to prepare for a funeral.  I decided on the picture below as it was the only professional picture that was recent.  My son was in the picture with her.  I did some editing and removed him.  I cropped and repaired the background but never touched her face.  This is a cropped image but the same .jpg I printed from.  This picture was in an older white and gold frame so I decided to use it.  I took the file to a local print yourself shop and printed an 8" x 10" picture.  I thought it looked alittle lighter than on my computer but decided it was OK.  I took the original out of the frame and put this one in.  I finished arranging it in the frame and turned the picture over.  I almost threw it straight up to the ceiling.  On her right cheek (left side of picture) were three blue tear-shaped dots on the cheek.  I had cleaned the glass and thought I hadn't dried it properly so I took the picture out, disheartened that I had to go back and print again, and it was fine.  I put it back in the frame, turning it end to end in case there was something on the glass, turned it over and three blue tears greeted me.  Thinking the print was bad I printed it myself on my computer.  It actually looked much nicer.  Totally confident the problem was solved I put it back in the frame.  Three blue tears.  I worked in quality control so this was now a challenge to figure the problem out.  I put the picture in another frame and no problem.  I put a different picture in the white frame and there were no blue spots.  I put tape on the glass over the spots and turned the picture end to end again and because it isn't centre the spots would still be under the tape if it was a problem with the glass.  Nope the spots were in the same place on her cheek.  Now I discovered that if I stood the picture on the table it was fine.  As soon as I picked it up the spots popped out.  My husband believes I image these things so I left the picture standing on the table.  He came in and commented on how nice he thought the picture looked.  I told him to pick it up.  He did and put it down as fast as he picked it up.  I said I had no idea what was wrong but I had done everything to get rid of it and didn't know what it was.  His comment was to the effect "it's better you don't ask any questions" and he left the room.

Many people have looked at the picture and no one has an answer.  I left it in the white fame because it was the frame Mom had her picture in.  To this day it's fine on the table and has blue tears when you pick it up.  It sat on the Arc holding her urn.

Edythe (Lardie) Drew
(the 3 tears appear on the right cheek directly below her eye and
even appear to be rolling over the round cheek)


My Mother died in April and her only grandson was marrying the end of July.  I had not been able to join in the preparations because I couldn't leave for any length of time.  We sold our house and moved into the house I was raised in.  Mom was the only person still owning part of the original farm the family bought in 1871.  I didn't want to see it sold.  I was working on my "mother of the groom" outfit doing some alterations.  I had to remove a matching button and was afraid to lose it so I put it in the middle of the kitchen table and was sitting back in the chair hand sewing and watching TV.  I wasn't touching even the edge of the table let alone the middle of it and all of a sudden I heard a clink by the window to my right.  I got up and there was the button laying against the wall.  It had flown past me.  I don't have a cat or bird and I'm not even speculating what happened to the button.


I'm down in the basement again putting clothes in the washer.  My husband was out the far back of the property jacking something up.  Out of the blue comes a loud male voice yelling "Peggy".  It suddenly crossed my mind that my husband may have gotten hurt so I ran up the stairs, out the back door, through the shop and found him standing there working.  I asked why he called me and he said he didn't.  I went back in the house with egg on my face.  A few days later it happened again only this time I was the only person there.  Same voice and just "Peggy".  I went to the door to see if someone was there.  Again I'm left scratching my head.  It was getting to me so I made the statement out loud "unless you have something more to say to me than my name, don't say anything".  It's been quiet ever since.


My home has long been a haven for old or otherwise unwanted musical instruments.  Three feet from my computer is a banjo sitting in the corner.  It never moves.  As I type this I can see it out of the corner of my eye.  

One night I was sitting here working on family information and out of no where the high string strums.  My first thought is it fell over.  No it was sitting right as it always does.  I even went for a string broke although I know that sound and this wasn't that dead snap and twang.  This was completely clear.  I picked up the banjo and looked it over.  Nothing was amiss.  In fact it was still in tune.  I know not why and probably never will.

I live on my family's old homestead.  Only piece of it that is still owned by the family.  Eight of my parents, grandparents, great grandparents, great great grandparents and a couple of uncles from the early 1900s died on this property.  Some days it's like no one has left and some that didn't die here have returned.  Thankfully I've only encountered friendly visitors.



After we moved into this house, after my Mother's death, I purchased new furniture for the livingroom.  One chair I bought was a rose pink swivel chair.  There was no problem until a couple of years went by and Mom's old dog started failing.  At this time he started going into the livingroom and sit in front of the pink chair and wag his tail and bark.  If I went to see what was going on he would turn his head, wag his tail and put his front feet on the chair.  I don't know why he did it but he sure thought he had a good reason for it.


In the last few years we have gone to the Nascar Race in Las Vegas.  Our tickets are for three days of racing but after the first year I was only interested in the big race on Sunday.  My husband would go off on his own and this gave me time to do some things he wouldn't be interested in.  One year I decided to go to the Titanic display at the the Tropicana.  I opted to take the control that lets you listen to a tutorial at each point of interest.  Being a researcher I quickly found I preferred to read the information so I just carried the remote controller along unused.  Being on my own I wasn't hampered by kids or a partner to discuss things with so I moved along quicker than groups I was following.

Upon entering the exibit you walk into a room that was set up as the third class area.  Remember thoughout you are on one floor but they had done such a good job that you felt you were where they wanted you to be.  The floor was a wooden plank corridor with sleeping areas off each side with each room containing 4 double beds bunkbed style.  I have no idea how many they actually packed into each room.  All that was in there was a wash stand and you could hear (and feel in your chest)  the floor vibrating to the pounding of the engines.  That noise was loud.  It was too confined for me.  Then you came to the staterooms that looked like the palours in a mansion.  

The museum style rooms with display cabinets were heartbreaking.  One had an oiled leather bag they found on the floor of the ocean containing a like new pair of men's stockings.  The finest knit I've ever seen and they looked like brand new.  Also a letter to his wife and shaving equipment.  It was devasting to know that these "things" survived but the owner didn't.

At this point I decided to escape the families and exited the door which put me alone on the "deck" of the Titanic.  It was set to accurately depict the night she sank.  The temperature was set to that night and it was cold.  Straight ahead was another door to go back inside.  I stood there by the rail looking at the stars and there was water running beside the "ship".  I guess I'm amused easily because I was enjoying the evening sky standing at the rail.  In truth a wall was about 4 feet in front of me.  THEN----something ran past me brushing against my back.  I whirled around thinking the kids had joined me but was still alone on the "deck".  It took all of 3 seconds to get out of that area and back into a room with other people.

When I exited the exhibit a pleasant older gentleman was there to take my rented remote back from me.  I said to him "you really should warn people they may not be alone".  He asked what happened and then said "you're not the first to tell me that story".

and so the tale continues

On July 19, 2013 a major wind and thunder storm went through Aldershot.  There was major damage where parts of hundreds of old trees came down.  We had picked our young grandson up early in the day.  As I was cooking supper the hydro went out.  That is when all the damage was done.  I lite a couple of lamps with candles in them and got all the flashlights out.  My husband and grandson were sitting in the shop which is attached to the house.  Of course this happened on the fourth day of a heat wave where the temperature was getting over 100 F each day.  The air was out in the house.

Thinking I should check on the boys I started down the back stairs carrying one of the candle lamps.  The stairs go 5 steps down to the door then turn right and go 5 steps down to the basement.  As I made the first step down a loud version of "You Light Up My Life" came from the basement.  I froze on the step as the basement was the darkest area and I really wasn't going with a candle to find out what was going on down there.  The song was only music like one finger piano playing.  I went out and told my husband and got the rolling eyes.

The lights finally came on around 11:00 PM.  I took the grandson and when down to the basement family room/bedroom.  It was much cooler down there.  Everything was fine and the night went on without incident.

The following night we were going to sleep downstairs again and my grandson went down to bed.  I get a few Gramma calls before sleep hits but that is normal.  I got a call and went downstairs and was asked "Gramma can you get rid of the rabbit because he is staring at me?".  I turned and looked out the door and up at the ceiling and on the backside of the wall where the stairs are were some of my Mother's collector dolls, a grey and white husky dog and a floppy-eared grey and white rabbit.  Mom had alot of "toys".  I gave bags of stuffed animals to one of the charities that pick used articles up at the house.  These few I keep.  I went and took down the rabbit, that I hadn't touched in over 5 years, and saw "squeeze me" on the paws.  I did and it played "You Light Up My Life".  I didn't know it played anything.

Mr. Rabbit was removed until my grandson went home.  He was then returned to his perch.  I  have no idea what the Vegas odds would be on a rabbit that hasn't been touched in years would, during a power outage, decide to play "You Light Up My Life" as I took the first step to go down those stairs carrying a candle lamp.  Who would even think the batteries were working?  I've left batteries in something for a year and they have leaked.

I strongly suspect my Mother was just getting her two cents worth in but that was the same area as the "Man in the Basement" was standing when she was dying.  He was right in front of where the rabbit is.  I took a picture of the culprit.  He's cute but I don't need any spontaneous serenades!  He sits on a shelve up high.  The dark above his head is the upstairs floor boards so I had to reach up to take him down.