People often experience what some call Memory Ghosts. These ghosts are not ghosts in the true sense of the word rather they are imprints on the environment.
While a person is living, places and objects that hold meaning for them can absorb their energy. After they pass this energy can linger.
A good example of this happened to a friend of mine years ago. Her grandmother died and she inherited the family home. Once she moved in she became convinced her grandmother haunted the house.
She often would catch a glimpse of her grandmother in the kitchen standing at the stove or she would see her sitting in her favorite rocker in the living room.
After doing some research she decided she needed to help her grandmother move on.
She made several attempts to talk to her deceased relative but she never got a response or sign that her grandmother heard her. She finally gave up.
Several years passed and she realized she no longer saw her grandmother. Years later, while reading a book about energy imprints she realized this is what might have happened in her home.
Was what she experienced just some of her grandmother’s lingering energy?
Could the home have picked up and stored some of her grandmother’s emotional residue?
Her grandmother loved to cook for the family. This was how she expressed her love. So a great deal of her energy was invested in the kitchen especially around the stove.
The rocking chair in the living room was her grandmother’s favorite spot to rest and think. So this spot as well could have picked up some of her relatives energy.
So do we leave echoes of ourselves in places and on objects that we have strong emotional ties to? Many believe this is true.
The following poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in the 1800s reflects this concept of memory ghosts.
All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.
We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.
There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.
The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been visible and clear.
We have no title deed to house or lands . . .