Here is one which also just this year became personal.
Prologue:
The Dream:
From my personal blog:
This morning as I left my rented house up in the Hollywood Hills and a cold fog still lingered over the valley,
At an address formerly located at 2398 Laurel Canyon Blvd., Hollywood, CA, 90028, there once stood the stately mansion of master escape
artist, Harry Houdini. It burned to the ground in 1957 leaving only a grotto and a stone stairway.
As much as Houdini was involved in "Magic", he himself did not believe in the Supernatural.
Houdini wanted to debunk the idea that you could contact the Other Side and the people there, but Houdini died on Halloween Night, 1926.
Before he closed his eyes forever upon the Earth, he left a code word with his wife, Bess, saying that if there was a way,
he would contact her using this code word.
Bess held a seance' not long afterwards on the roof of the Hotel Knickerbocker and stated
that she had heard from Harry. She was forced to later make a retraction of her statement when threatened by a religious group.
To this day, no one has heard that code word from Harry, but that doesn't mean that he is at rest. His ghost has been encountered at
the ruins of his old mansion and at his residence in New York City.
Harry was also good friends with a rather well known family who worked in Vaudeville.
One afternoon while, while the friend was over at Houdini's residence, the father's infant son fell down the stairs into the basement.
Fearing the worst, they ran to the stairs and looked down. Much to their amazement, the little boy sat on the floor of the basement
laughing and giggling.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Houdini said, "Wow, that was quite a buster your kid just took."
The kid grew up to gain fame himself. His name was Buster Keaton.
Several years ago, for what reason I cannot say, I had an extremely vivid dream that I was somewhere out in Los Angeles.
There were lots of trees in the area and there were hills and valleys with many stately houses on them.
I climbed up one hill and entered a great house with great light fixtures and the kind of design that you would only find
in a celebrity home.
I don't remember too much more about it.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008.
I made my way up, down and through the twisting, narrow streets of Laurel Canyon to the remains of the once
stately mansion of master magician and escape artist, Harry Houdini.
It was in this once great house that a baby took "quite a buster" down some stairs and ended up laughing instead of crying.
The kid was nicknamed Buster Keaton.
Thirty-three years after Houdini died of peritonitis secondary to a ruptured appendix in 1926,
his mansion mysteriously burned to the ground.
All that remained were a couple of gardens, the grotto and the stairs.
And a Ghost.
Has Houdini indeed been watching over the remains of his estate from beyond the grave?
There are some who think so.
I finally arrived by taking the right driveway and going up a hill.
There were construction workers everywhere, most of which spoke not a word of English.
I parked my car under a great tree, got my cameras and got out of the car to look around.
As I came around the back of the car, the first thing I noticed was the Dog.
As I drove up there was no sign of him. Then he was just there.
"Well, hello there", I said with a smile, wishing to appear with all my heart as a non-threat.
"Who might you be?"
The dog looked up at me then down at my feet which he carefully sniffed.
He must have come to the conclusion that I was not a threat and thus became my companion for a time.
I then turned my attention to the front of where the mansion used to stand.
I walked up the driveway to the first set of stairs leading up.
The Dog ran on a few yards ahead of me and looked back.
I suddenly felt all the blood drain from my face and I was struck by these intense feelings which flooded me:
Sorrow, fear and most of all, a feeling of Deja Vu.
The Dog lead the way.
I climbed up the concrete steps which lead to nowhere, a bare and broken hill with only a few bricks here and there
and an old exterior light, broken and lying on the ground.
To my right was an old cross, painted in gold, also lying on the ground.
I knew that Houdini was Jewish so I wondered at this.
By the time I got up to the top of the estate, I was almost in tears.
I had no idea what was happening to me…or why!
All I know is that there is something….or someone there.
I took the pix and videos I wanted, then went back to the car, got in and drove away.
And as quickly as they came, the feelings which had bombarded me at this place…..departed.
Here is the video I took of the incident as it went down.