I could feel his emotions, they were feelings of urgency and despair, yet with a controllable calm. The best way that I can describe his emotions is like a homeless puppy in the rain that is hungry and cold and looks up at people passing by, wanting to ask for help but knowing that no help is coming. I could feel that he had much to say, yet at first he was only looking at me and not saying anything, yet I could feel the urgency in his emotions.

Of course I tried to just ignore this image and feeling of the ghost and to study. I know I am not supposed to deal with ghosts, I know that since *everybody* doesn't see and feel them then I am not entitled to my experiences. But he was compelling to me like a real person, he was reaching out to me, I could see him and I could feel his emotions. I decided to observe the images he was showing me and to listen to what he would say.

I saw from him the image of what looked to be a forest with knee-deep or waist-deep water covering the forest floor. The trees were all thick and tall and far apart. A group of anywhere from 8 to 20 or more black people were wading through the water. There were men and women. They all seemed to have clothes that were too large for them. The women were dressed in many layers of skirts and aprons. They were all very tired and fumbling through the water. It was difficult for them to hike across such a landscape for such a large distance. As I was watching this, the ghost told me that several of them had died and that their bodies were just left behind there. He had come to tell me that people were dying. He wasn't asking for help, but he needed to tell me. He also said that some of the women who died were pregnant.

Ghosts seem to be able to find me. When they speak to me they say that they saw a bright white light and that they were drawn to it. They see me as a light. A ghost, what ever they are, then shares with me the difficult story of their life. Something terrible always happened to a ghost. I wrote down the conversation at that point:

"She couldn't walk no more so they drowned her. And then we had to leave her. I didn't want to argue, but I wanted to carry her. They didn't let me."
"Was she relative to you?"
"She was carrying my baby."
"What happened then?"
"Later, I was murdered. They wouldn't let us treat our own. Our wounded. They were rather killed."
"Is that true? You are safe now. Thank you for telling me."
"I couldn't just leave her. They had a revolver. Thank you for speaking with me about my Mae."
"You're welcome. Thank you for telling me."
"They suffocated our child."

At this point I have sent him my own feelings of love and light to try to help him. Doing so always seems to undo a ghost. Even other people who feel and see the effects of a ghost will notice when a ghost is gone, so the phenomenon of ghosts is not just all in my head, and of that I am certain. That doesn't mean ghosts are real fragments of a formerly living person, but ghosts are a phenomenon that is more than just a distinctly internal imaginary experience of one experiencer at a time.

"That is with the Grace of God that you have sent me away."
"God knows that you cared for her. And you have proven that love to God and to Mae. And the baby will be with you in Heaven. Mae is love, God is love. You will see them again."

He was almost going into the light and his negative experience was resolving into light, but when I said this he fought his way back because he is afraid that by leaving, he is leaving the woman and the baby. He can't let go, so he stays in that moment.

"I didn't want to anger them, but they did..."

It is as if every moment in time is a page in a book, and that all the pages are in the same place simultaneously, only that most of us are only reading one page at a time and cannot flip back in the book. Ghosts are like a time in history where something emotionally strong happened, giving that layer of time a heavier signature across the layers. Like a bookmark within the pages of a book, and it comes to claim the feeling of that place across future time until it is resolved, which is when ghosts vanish and the haunting resolves and people feel that the area now has a better feeling to it. Because, it is as if the feelings from the past were so strong that they are reaching through across time.

A ghost is always a very troubled individual, they are almost always the victims of a crime or a terrible accident, either unwilling or unable to let go. What I do is I listen to their story, and then I show them much love and support and literally help them go into the light. Why is it said that ghosts go "into the light"? Well what I see is literally a bright flash of white light when a ghost finally decides to let go. At that moment the tangle of the ghost's emotions and the feeling of haunting is resolved and gone. I wouldn't speak so openly about ghosts if it weren't for my many cases in which the same experience was witnessed by several people and in the same way independently from one another.

I have reason to suspect that ghosts *may* be real. I have seen more indication of that, than proof of the contrary.

By the way, I have touched so much suffering both in Native Americans and black people in the history of the United States by seeming to feel the past and ghosts. The unimaginable evil that white people have done to others is even more horrific when it becomes imaginable when the phenomenon of ghosts touches you with their story and pain.

Eventually I would like to visit historical sites here in the South where black people were held as slaves, and I would write down everything I feel and hear and give them a strong voice in the form of a book. What they went through is beyond my imagination and I would never ever embark on even attempting to write about it or pretend to imagine any of what goes on in their minds and heart, but often what ghosts share with me is so compelling and they so need a voice, all they want is to be heard and to be known, then they can let go.

From my few experiences of the ghosts of black people who were slaves, what hurts me the most is that they did not understand their own worth. And when I try to explain to them how valuable they are as human beings and how they deserve the very best of what life could offer, they do not understand or believe me. And that is what pains me the most out of everything that they went through. Because in that, what was taken away from them was more precious than anything wordly; they could not even believe in their worth as human beings.

And what pains me to see in my encounters of their ghosts is how their minds have been broken down. How they have no past, present or future. No joy or ownership. No curiosity or ambition. No happiness. They just lived in a sense of void. They had to believe that the world was evil, and they had no hope or dreams of a different world.

This ghost I spoke to, whose wife Mae was drowned, at the end of the conversation he showed me how at night the white people were playing music in their building and how all that he and the other black men had wanted was to listen to it, but they were not allowed anywhere near the building at night. I always tell the ghosts of black people that I am from their future and that black people are equal today, and I tell them all the things that they can do today. I also love to tell them that today we have a black president. When I told this ghost about all of these many things that their great grandchildren have today, all he was excited about was that if he lived today he could have listened to music. He asked me if black people today have music. That just broke me into tears.

Update: I decided to "feel into" the ghostly feeling that is across Greensboro to have a closer look, or "closer feel". I then saw black people with a skin condition. It looks like open wounds across the skin, with large red bumps across the wounds, and the wounds are oozing a clear fluid. I saw a young black woman sick in bed with this skin condition. She also had a fever. I noticed that much of the bad feeling I've felt across the area is related to this sickness, which the feeling translated into. Later as I dropped the image and carried on with other things, I heard the voice of a girl say in my head, "small pox". Note: after looking at pictures online, their condition looks more like chickenpox than smallpox.