A Story of a Haunting in Bakersfield
As told by Paul Dale Roberts
As I sit here pondering is there life after death. I can only assume, there must be an afterlife. Einstein came up with the sound theory that E = MC2. Energy can be converted into matter and matter can be converted into energy. Energy is a substance that cannot be destroyed. All information from energy is sustained for eternity. On one website, called "Ask a Rocket Scientist", I asked if Earth were to be sucked up into a blackhole, would that mean that all information on the existence of mankind would be destroyed? The history of Earth would be gone? The answer from the rocket scientist was 'no'. Due to the fact that energy cannot be destroyed, it can be altered, but not destroyed. So all of the tidbits of a scathing email that you wanted to send to your boss, you deleted it from your computer, but it still exists in the vastness of cyberspace. On the quantum level we are all energy creatures. Break us down to atoms and on the quantum level I would be able to place my hand right through your body and out again. Henceforth, in Star Trek we see the scattering of our atoms through a teleporter and reappear again intact with Capt. Kirk ready for battle. So, if our matter bodies have intelligence, then why can't a pure energy being have intelligence? Why couldn't the aura that surrounds our body consume the intelligence that our physical corporal body has? When we die, the aura leaves our body. The aura is our soul. A soul that may decide to follow the light into the next realm. An energy realm, we may call it heaven, we may call it hell. Or a soul that refuses to go into the light and remains on Earth, with unfinished business to attend to. We call this a haunting.
As a writer, I am a conduit for people to tell their stories. I listen, I make the decision that a story will become immortalized through my writings. On a particular night at Cache Creek Casino, at Club 88, a woman by the name of Sandra Wooding-Limon asked for me to write a story of a haunting that happened to her. A haunting that she can't get out of her mind. As we talked during the music that the band Masterpiece was playing, songs like "Body Talk by The Deele," "Chase Me by Confunkshun" and "Good Times by Chic." She was familiar with my paranormal investigations via H.P.I. (Haunted and Paranormal Investigations) of Northern California. This is the story she relates to me:
At the age of 7, she lived in a home in Bakersfield, California, off a street called Bel Torres. Her home was situated across the street from the neighborhood park. The home was not elaborate like the Amityville Horror home, it was a simple 3 bedroom house. There she lived with her brothers and sisters, her mother and stepfather. When she first moved into this home, she was automatically scared of this house. When she moved in, she felt this eerie feeling. Night after night, she felt a presence as she tried to sleep in her bed. She felt someone was standing over her bedside. As the hauntings continued, her bed covers would be thrown off of her. This was too much for a little Sandra, she insisted to have a night light on. She had a harder time falling asleep. She would be afraid to sleep. She would see shadows walking near the hallway and across her bedroom. The entity or entities seemed focus on her.
While she felt the hauntings, her sister, age 6 was not disturbed and would sleep soundly, while all the while she was being terrified by this unseen force. When the TV was on, the walking shadows seemed to make their presence known even more. The doors would move on their own accord and the cabinets would open and close on their own. One night, she turned around and the rocking chair kept rocking on its own. This was too much for Sandra. Her family knew that Sandra was going through these traumatic disturbances and after one year, the family decided to move away. Sandra was absolutely terrified and it didn't help when she also heard on the news that the Zodiac was at large. At this young tender age, she was terrified of a hooded serial killer that was stalking his prey; that prey was 'people' and the ghosts that were in this Bakersfield home.
Sandra is now an adult woman, but thoughts and memories of this home still haunt her to this very day. She will never forget a particular storm that came into Bakersfield and during that night the hauntings came on very strong, her bed covers were taken off of her, the shadows on the walls were everywhere and the cabinets kept slamming open and shut during the storm. Not too long after the storm is when her family decided enough was enough. It was time to move. After having this experience and moving away from the house in Bakersfield, she was terrified to go to her grandfather's house. She didn't know if the house was haunted, but it seemed to be haunted. Her grandmother died in the house and her grandfather would have a shrine that included lit candles and many patron Catholic saints near and around the lit candles. This in itself was spooky. She related to me that her grandfather always kept the house dark, she would hear things move around in the house, when there was no one there. Her aunt lived in her grandfather's house. Her aunt was strange, she was into the gothic lifestyle and had black lights, psychedelic paraphernalia in her dark bedroom. Sandra now strives to seek out the positive, she likes a lot of lights, she avoids the darkness. This childhood experience has affected her life to this very day.
Sandra due to the nightmares of her childhood experiences once consulted with a now defunct paranormal group called S.P.I.T. (Stockton Paranormal Investigation Team), but didn't feel satisfied with their counseling. She feels if her story is told, it may eliminate the inner demons of her traumatic childhood experience. Good luck Sandra, your story is now told.
As I close this story, I only wonder if spirits may use the writings of others as their conduit to tell their story. Once in Rolling Stone Magazine, there was an article on the fact that Jim Morrison of the Doors had appeared to many people after his death. Well, this story wouldn't have phased me, except for the fact that my first wife Karen Jean Walker/Caruso had related to me that she sat on a couch with Jim Morrison. Jim told her to accept life and embrace it. Of course this was the spirit of Jim Morrison, because Jim Morrison had died years ago. When Karen told me this story I laughed. When I read the Rolling Stone article, I almost fell out of my chair. Could Karen be telling the truth? In 1999, I had a dream that I saw my mother, who died in 1987. In this dream, my mother had a strange looking man sitting behind her with glasses and a brief case. My mother told me to tell the story of my father's connection to Mickey Cohen, a well known gangster with ties to Bugsy Siegel. Behind her the man standing behind her said:
"Please tell the story."
I never told the story, until now. My father a former tax investigator opened up a case that was pending since the 1950s. The reason it was pending is that the government accountant investigating the case was killed by the mob for trying to collect on State taxes. My father who just handled a case in collecting State taxes from the Church of Scientology, that also owed federal taxes to the IRS, took the challenge of reopening this case. When meeting the mob in Los Angeles via a corporation that they owned, the mobsters took my father out to dinner and wrote him a check. It was an easy collection of State taxes owed, but a government accountant in the 50s lost his life over this matter. Perhaps the deceased accountant didn't want his life to be forgotten and consulted my mother to tell his story? I don't know. I don't know if my over active mind created this appearance of my mother and the strange man behind her. Was that strange man behind her the accountant? Then why didn't he tell me his name? Or does he feel confident that anyone looking into this story, will discover his name and complete the history of his encounter with the mob. Perhaps I am the conduit for living people and deceased people to tell their unfinished stories. I am here. I am listening.