I’m paying a heavy price for last week’s drinking session with Steve…somewhere along the line my immune system let down its guard and I developed the worst head cold in the world Saturday morning. By Monday the doctor put me on antibiotics to prevent it turning into something worse, as I was even oozing from my eyes. I’m starting to feel better but have fallen massively behind at work, and this site. I have some new things to share.

The only consolation is I’m not alone, Steve’s got it too. I’m blaming him for the germ, and he’s blaming me. He pointed out I’m the one who had saliva explode all over her kitchen. It’s a fair point, despite the fact that I’ve disinfected it about a dozen times already. I was encouraged, however, that he was cracking jokes about the paranormal events at my condo. He may be nervous about it, but at least he’s sticking to his promise to be more open about it, and to come on board.

He hasn’t been here yet, but he did do something impressive completely of his own initiative. He drafted a letter he sent yesterday to all antiques sellers, historical societies / museums, and salvage businesses in Seattle and many miles beyond. He’s asking anyone with any items from Rose Red, presumably purchased at the estate auction, to please send him photographs of their stock for this web site. I’ve included the letter here so you can read it yourself, and see how he pitched the idea to his recipients.

I also received an e-mail and a photograph from a friend of Vic’s. Read on…

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This site, by the very nature of its subject matter, is no laughing matter. But even the most terrible tragedy has some comic relief. Nick has a wicked, dry wit, and can crack jokes even under the greatest pressure. So he’d appreciate me giving a little “time out” to show you something that, now that I look back on it, is absolutely hilarious.

You may remember the publication Weekly World Digest, which was sold mostly at supermarket check-out lines and newspaper stands. It was a black and white rag that was even worse than a tabloid, because tabloids at least attempt to convey something like the truth (they have to, it’s illegal not to…). Weekly World Digest preferred to tell tales of babies born with bat wings, demons possessing ball machines at church bingo nights, vampires feeding off the First Lady, etc. All of these stories were accompanied by usually terribly unconvincing photoshopped pictures – ringing any bells now? Unfortunately, Weekly World Digest went out of business, so I can’t link you to a web site with samples. But I’m sure it’s well logged in the annals of most people’s memories.

Well, Weekly World Digest got wind of the aftermath of the Memorial Day Rose Red trip and printed what may have been the only WWD feature ever to have some basis in reality, even if the details in their version are – to say the least – highly inventive.

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In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. John 14:2-3

 

That’s a passage from the NIV Bible, which is not the Bible I grew up reading (growing up Roman Catholic my catechism teachers tended to use the NAB) but I have a NIV Bible given to me by a Protestant aunt on my father’s side. I find the language to be very accessible, and given I’m not all that religious nor am I taken to reading the Bible often, accessible is good.

But why quote it? Read it again. Doesn’t it somehow ring true to my life as I know it, as you know it through this blog?

If not, I’ll put it into new perspective. Last night I had the strangest feverish dreams – I’d swear I actually did have a fever, except I feel perfectly fine. My subconscious mind, however, was clearly on fire.

It started with the gargoyles again, all the stone statues that I “dreamed” about when Emery was here. Then a voice, a woman’s voice at first – possibly Ellen’s – whispering that verse. “In my Father’s house are many rooms…” - then a shift. Someone else’s voice, a man’s. I recall now since I met him the day I dropped Nick off at the university for the field trip that the voice was Vic’s. I recall also that he was very religious and carried his Bible with him into Rose Red. I could see it tucked into the crook of his arm when I met him. (Continue reading…)