So.
As I shared in my previous post, I went on a trip to Colonial Williamsburg Virginia yesterday afternoon to celebrate my little sister-in-law’s 23rd birthday. We stayed overnight in a colonial building called “The Brick House Tavern”. We left about noon today. I’ll share a little bit of our itinerary before I get to the real topic of this post.
We arrived around 5:30pm and went directly to the Williamsburg Inn to check in and get the keys to our room at the Brick House Tavern. After we put our stuff in the room and checked it out a bit, we went on a “Ghosts of Williamsburg Tour”. Apparently all of the 80 something colonial buildings have exhibited some sort of supernatural, spectral, paranormal, whatever activity. Between the staff and guests, some kind of “ghostly presence” has been experienced in every building and on every street in the whole of Colonial Williamsburg. This is actually the topic of this post, so I won’t comment anymore on my opinion of such experiences just yet, but we’ll get there, promise.
The ghost tour was actually pretty funny. The tour guide took us to about 6 or 7 locations that were supposed to be among the most haunted. The funny part is that my little sister-in-law is terribly afraid of the paranormal . So, I’ll give you one guess as to whose hotel was one of the most haunted sites on the tour. That’s Right!! Our Hotel!! The Brick House Tavern had some lovely stories of near poltergeist proportions. Not only did staff and guests see a grisly looking male specter, but two adult sisters both felt the sensation of hands pressing down on their feet and stroking all the way up to their necks, at which point they felt as if they were being strangled. Needless to say, my little sister didn’t sleep well; she didn’t get molested by any ghosts either. I took a couple photos on the ghost tour at the suggestion of our tour guide, “just in case”, because people have apparently gotten shots of non-corporeal entities. We’ll be discussing these photos shortly.
After the ghost tour, we went to dinner. I had barbecue ribs & chicken with potatoes and hot apple cider. Delicious. Then we went to the reenactment of a historically accurate witchcraft trial, that was based on an actual case from 1706. That was a lot of fun. The actors did a great job, the jurors [the audience] were biased morons, excluding the 36 of us who voted not guilty [which did include myself and my group]. I say this because there was an obvious flaw in the evidence, which negated the primary charge, that the accused cursed a man, and the next day his wife had a miscarriage. Whatever. The records of the real outcome were lost during the civil war when Richmond was burned. However, a will was later found in the accused’s home county dated at 1740. So, she obviously lived.
Following the witch trial, we went to Chownings Tavern for libations and games. I avoided the alcoholic beverages for the most part [I am in recovery, though I’m a heroin addict and never really cared much for alcohol. But I’m abstaining from alcohol as well on principle]. However, since I have made a vow of honesty in my recovery, as I lied ever so much in my using days, I did take a sip of hot apple cider with spiced rum. It was actually very tasty. I had more hot cider and homemade vanilla ice cream. We played a dice game called “Buck”, I had my fortune read by a card reader [not tarot cards, just playing cards]. I got one of the kings which represented Alexander the Great and meant that I was to follow my passions and aspirations and not allow anyone to stand in my way. Don’t remember the other cards, but I remember the accompanying fortunes. Along with following my passion, I am to expect some great news or advice from a friend or relative in the next 4 to 6 weeks, and I will be receiving some sort of windfall very soon that could be in the form of money or something material, or in the form of life changing wisdom. All in all, a very good reading and I really needed it to be honest. I read tarot and runes myself, and I worked with a number of psychics, mediums, tarot readers, rune casters, astrologers, etc. for over two years. But I haven’t done a reading on myself or received one in a long time. [And I totally believe in psychics, kind of, and divination of all sorts]
The next morning we had breakfast at 8:45am [a bit early considering we were all up well past midnight playing cards…well I colored my mandala that I’ve been working on, but still, we were up late]. I had the best french toast I’ve ever encountered. It was absolutely amazing in every way, from flavor to texture. It came with a fat sausage link, baked apples and cheese grits. And since it is the Saturnalia season [the pagan holiday from which Christmas was most likely hijacked], everyone received an ambrosial beverage called Cranberry Shrub, which is cranberry juice with raspberry sorbet at the bottom.
After breakfast we checked out of our rooms and did some touristy things in Colonial Williamsburg [checked out the shops, pet some horses, looked through the graveyard, bought more cider and bottles of locally made ginger ale, etc.] and I took LOTS of pictures, the good ones went through Instragram and you can see them in my Instajelly Gallery. I picked up a cool little notebook that will become a sketchbook I think, and I got a book at the William & Mary Barnes & Noble. The book was 75% OFF of it’s already bargained price of $5.98, so I got it for less than two bucks. It was a good deal, even if the book turns out to be shite. The book is “Atmospheric Disturbances: A Novel” by Rivka Galchen. The customer reviews are mixed at best. Some love it, some hate it. Though it won Amazon’s Best of the Month June 2008, so…someone must like it. I’ll let you know.
Then we headed home. I spent the 3 hour drive Instagramming…and I was the driver. *blush* Becca was asleep, there was no good radio, no NPR, no iPod, I had to occupy myself somehow. Anyway, we get about 2 miles south of the Dumfries exit on 95 N [which was our exit; another 45 minutes and we’d be home] and traffic stopped. Completely stopped. Supposedly there was an accident up ahead and the news said no one was moving for a while. We happened to be close to an on-ramp for a road called Joplin road, so once we saw enough other people doing it to not fear getting arrested, we followed. Incidentally, the spot on Joplin road at which we emerged was maybe a mile from Quantico National Cemetery, where my grandfather [who passed March 31st this year] is buried, as he was a marine Lieutenant Colonel and was stationed at Quantico for some time [which is why I grew up 20 minutes from the base, we built our house next door to my grandparents]. This was the definition of synchronicity. I know some believe in chaos rather than synchronicity, and that may be true, but I can still put meaning in the event regardless of the cause. It felt like a sign, so we stopped and I visited my grandpa.
We finally got home this afternoon.
Now.
None of this was the real purpose of this post. I snapped a couple of pictures on the ghost tour that I want to share and discuss a little bit. Unfortunately I went a little long recounting my trip, so I believe I’ll hold off on the pictures and discussion u ntil tomorrow. I’m tired, plus this post is lengthy enough already, any longer and it will be unreadable. Besides, the other discussion really is a totally different topic and deserves its own post.
Stay Tuned.
– @egodetox
Shades.Of.Consciousness 