I am Haunted: Living Life Through the Dead by Zak Bagans, Kelly Crigger Page A
Authors: Zak Bagans, Kelly Crigger
Ads: Link
humans have the mentality of a two-year-old. Why does it do that? Why is this the way it is? Why, why, why, why? We’re curious beings who are programmed to ask questions, but if there isn’t an answer, then it must not exist, and we ridicule it or make fun of those who do believe in it. Anyone who has spent a day in the paranormal field has experienced this kind of skepticism. “Ghosts aren’t real, and you’re an idiot if you think they are,” people say.
But when you’ve been through it and start to make these connections, you really start believing that you’re on to something. And sometimes I wonder if I’m getting myself into trouble by starting to figure it out—like the spirits know I’m beginning to understand their world and aren’t happy about it. I’ve had friends in this field who have literally gone crazy, and it makes me wonder if they were getting too close to the answers that powerful forces didn’t want them to know. But we’ll never know until we cross over. That’s how God made it, and I do believe in Him.
IT’S ALL A DESIGN, AND IT ALL HAS MEANING...
EVEN THE HEART ATTACKS.
12
R OMANIA
A little salt goes a long way.
I hate flying like a pirate hates a toothbrush. You could accurately describe me as having pteromerhanophobia, but that’s way too long a word to use casually. It’s easier to say that I have acrophobia, which is a fear of heights. This is true, but being at a high altitude and hurtling through space at the same time brings on a whole new kind of fear for me. It’s not so much that I don’t trust the engineers who designed the plane or the pilots flying it, but I hate not being in control. If I’m driving a car and things go badly, then at least I can take control and get myself out of the situation. If something goes wrong with a plane, all you can do is tuck your head between your legs and pray. So I’d rather chew on tin foil than fly to Romania, but I did it because my desire to investigate Vlad Dracula’s castle and birthplace was greater than my fear of going down like a lawn dart somewhere in the Atlantic. We all have to face our fears eventually.
About three weeks before I flew, anxiety began to build up, and the second I got onto the plane, claustrophobia punched me in the gut. I was like Ed Norton in
Fight Club:
I could envision crash after crash, and every little thing had me second-guessing my reasons for being there. This is what flying does to me: When the cabin doors lock and I know I’m going to be trapped in that aluminum tube for eons, I hit a whole new level of panic. Most people would recommend psychotropic drugs or relaxants, but I can’t do that. I hate putting that stuff in my system. So I all I can really rely on is my iPod. It’s saved my sanity on several occasions.
When I fly, I watch the flight attendants for clues. If they’re calm, I’m good. If they’re freaking out, then I will, too. Turbulence is the worst. Every little bump rattles me, and I really don’t like it when the captain comes on the intercom and tells everyone to have a seat and fasten their seat belts. Then I know we’re in for some shit that will take years off my life.
I flew directly from Las Vegas to France and then boarded a new plane to Romania. Even though I had a sleeping seat, I couldn’t sleep. It’s just not me. When we landed in Bucharest, I felt like I’d stepped out of the phone booth in
Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure.
Everything was new, exciting, and strange. I love moments like that, but it was such a relief to be on terra firma that I couldn’t enjoy it much. Being at a high level of anxiety for so long is a drain, and all I really wanted to do was get to my hotel room and decompress.
Not Aaron. He always wants to go walk around, probably because he drinks eight cups of coffee a day and has a ton of energy. Aaron always wants to do something, which I admire even if I don’t want to go along. He’s a thrill-seeking adventurer, and
But when you’ve been through it and start to make these connections, you really start believing that you’re on to something. And sometimes I wonder if I’m getting myself into trouble by starting to figure it out—like the spirits know I’m beginning to understand their world and aren’t happy about it. I’ve had friends in this field who have literally gone crazy, and it makes me wonder if they were getting too close to the answers that powerful forces didn’t want them to know. But we’ll never know until we cross over. That’s how God made it, and I do believe in Him.
IT’S ALL A DESIGN, AND IT ALL HAS MEANING...
EVEN THE HEART ATTACKS.
12
R OMANIA
A little salt goes a long way.
I hate flying like a pirate hates a toothbrush. You could accurately describe me as having pteromerhanophobia, but that’s way too long a word to use casually. It’s easier to say that I have acrophobia, which is a fear of heights. This is true, but being at a high altitude and hurtling through space at the same time brings on a whole new kind of fear for me. It’s not so much that I don’t trust the engineers who designed the plane or the pilots flying it, but I hate not being in control. If I’m driving a car and things go badly, then at least I can take control and get myself out of the situation. If something goes wrong with a plane, all you can do is tuck your head between your legs and pray. So I’d rather chew on tin foil than fly to Romania, but I did it because my desire to investigate Vlad Dracula’s castle and birthplace was greater than my fear of going down like a lawn dart somewhere in the Atlantic. We all have to face our fears eventually.
About three weeks before I flew, anxiety began to build up, and the second I got onto the plane, claustrophobia punched me in the gut. I was like Ed Norton in
Fight Club:
I could envision crash after crash, and every little thing had me second-guessing my reasons for being there. This is what flying does to me: When the cabin doors lock and I know I’m going to be trapped in that aluminum tube for eons, I hit a whole new level of panic. Most people would recommend psychotropic drugs or relaxants, but I can’t do that. I hate putting that stuff in my system. So I all I can really rely on is my iPod. It’s saved my sanity on several occasions.
When I fly, I watch the flight attendants for clues. If they’re calm, I’m good. If they’re freaking out, then I will, too. Turbulence is the worst. Every little bump rattles me, and I really don’t like it when the captain comes on the intercom and tells everyone to have a seat and fasten their seat belts. Then I know we’re in for some shit that will take years off my life.
I flew directly from Las Vegas to France and then boarded a new plane to Romania. Even though I had a sleeping seat, I couldn’t sleep. It’s just not me. When we landed in Bucharest, I felt like I’d stepped out of the phone booth in
Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure.
Everything was new, exciting, and strange. I love moments like that, but it was such a relief to be on terra firma that I couldn’t enjoy it much. Being at a high level of anxiety for so long is a drain, and all I really wanted to do was get to my hotel room and decompress.
Not Aaron. He always wants to go walk around, probably because he drinks eight cups of coffee a day and has a ton of energy. Aaron always wants to do something, which I admire even if I don’t want to go along. He’s a thrill-seeking adventurer, and
Similar Books
