Hollywood hills
I'm a ghosthunter, and I team up with my friend, Heather. I'm an high empath, and she's a powerful medium, and we've been doing this for years. Saturday night, we were of counsel for an investigation in a ritzy house in the Hollywood hills. It's a house of noteworthy history, but the waiver I signed prohibits me from saying anything about the investigation. We got there before the host was ready for us, so I joined Steve and his crew as they walked around the area. The Hollywood hills are rife was dark activity. That's a little known facet about LA that you really won't find in many books or websites. The general area is just a clusterfuck of trapped spirits, lost souls, demons, native American spirits, and who knows what else. So we were walking around, and we went up to another home with an interesting showbiz history to it.
While climbing the hill, Heather said that there was a woman in a tree who was crying. She called her down, and this spirit joined us. Heather said her name was Mary. I greeted her, and invited her to walk beside me, as I gave her warm energy to calm her down. I can't see spirits, but I can feel them, and she felt sweet, but sad. Steve (the team's leader) heard we mention the name Mary, and he asked if it was Mary Pickford. The name seemed familiar to me, but at the time I couldn't place it. Heather asked her, and she agreed that was her last name. Mary was sad because there was something she didn't finish, something that was left undone when she passed, and that was a great source of sorrow and unfulfillment.
Around this time, the host yelled for us to come over, so we descended down the hill. Mary was still with us, but hesitated to follow us up another hill. Steve aggressively coaxed/bullied her into coming along (I'm not entirely sure why his team has this somewhat belligerent approach to spirit communication), and it seemed to work. She followed us up the hill, but didn't enter the house with us. She did find us in the house a few hours later, and hung around Heather and I. I liked her because she seemed nice and lonely. The investigation itself was extremely weird, complex and full of personal experiences and interesting evidence, but that's not the point of this post.
It was the wee, wee hours of the morning...ok, it was early dawn the next day, and Heather and I are driving back to our area, and we're discussing a variety of things that happened that night, including Mary. I remembered Mary Pickford was an actress, but remembered little else at the time, and told Heather that I doubted it was the famous Pickford. When we parked in front of her boyfriend's house, I wiki'd Mary Pickford, and along with her bio was some pictures. I read aloud how Mary had been THE silent film actress, and the root of her depression/alcoholism. I showed Heather the images. "This is Mary Pickford. Is this the girl you saw?" Heather looked at them, and said, yeah, it looks like her.
Huh
I kept reading aloud. She had a couple of boys, who later severed ties with her. One of the sons was Ronald, and Heather said that Mary had mentioned that name.
Huh
The more I read, the more I could maybe see a correlation between Mary Pickford and the woman we met. Pickford was THE most famous actress in the silent film era, was extremely sought after and was earning double what every other actress was earning, but her career stumbled as she got into her 30s. She chopped her hair after her mother died as a form of catharsis I suppose, and such a bold move to her iconic look shocked the public. As a result, the flurry of work that was thrown her way in her youth had been reduced to a trickle, and she didn't handle it well. Her life was fraught with tragedy and escapism, and despite such a prominent beginning, her whole life was etched with sorrow and unfulfillment. Maybe the 'unfinished work' she mumbled about on the hill was in reference to the film plans she had, possible notions of a comeback, or the yearning for a return to the fame and popularity that she celebrated earlier. Maybe.
I feel that Heather and I should return to that hill, find Mary Pickford or whoever that spirit is, and have another conversation. This time, we'll know who she is, and our focus won't be distracted by an investigation.
While climbing the hill, Heather said that there was a woman in a tree who was crying. She called her down, and this spirit joined us. Heather said her name was Mary. I greeted her, and invited her to walk beside me, as I gave her warm energy to calm her down. I can't see spirits, but I can feel them, and she felt sweet, but sad. Steve (the team's leader) heard we mention the name Mary, and he asked if it was Mary Pickford. The name seemed familiar to me, but at the time I couldn't place it. Heather asked her, and she agreed that was her last name. Mary was sad because there was something she didn't finish, something that was left undone when she passed, and that was a great source of sorrow and unfulfillment.
Around this time, the host yelled for us to come over, so we descended down the hill. Mary was still with us, but hesitated to follow us up another hill. Steve aggressively coaxed/bullied her into coming along (I'm not entirely sure why his team has this somewhat belligerent approach to spirit communication), and it seemed to work. She followed us up the hill, but didn't enter the house with us. She did find us in the house a few hours later, and hung around Heather and I. I liked her because she seemed nice and lonely. The investigation itself was extremely weird, complex and full of personal experiences and interesting evidence, but that's not the point of this post.
It was the wee, wee hours of the morning...ok, it was early dawn the next day, and Heather and I are driving back to our area, and we're discussing a variety of things that happened that night, including Mary. I remembered Mary Pickford was an actress, but remembered little else at the time, and told Heather that I doubted it was the famous Pickford. When we parked in front of her boyfriend's house, I wiki'd Mary Pickford, and along with her bio was some pictures. I read aloud how Mary had been THE silent film actress, and the root of her depression/alcoholism. I showed Heather the images. "This is Mary Pickford. Is this the girl you saw?" Heather looked at them, and said, yeah, it looks like her.
Huh
I kept reading aloud. She had a couple of boys, who later severed ties with her. One of the sons was Ronald, and Heather said that Mary had mentioned that name.
Huh
The more I read, the more I could maybe see a correlation between Mary Pickford and the woman we met. Pickford was THE most famous actress in the silent film era, was extremely sought after and was earning double what every other actress was earning, but her career stumbled as she got into her 30s. She chopped her hair after her mother died as a form of catharsis I suppose, and such a bold move to her iconic look shocked the public. As a result, the flurry of work that was thrown her way in her youth had been reduced to a trickle, and she didn't handle it well. Her life was fraught with tragedy and escapism, and despite such a prominent beginning, her whole life was etched with sorrow and unfulfillment. Maybe the 'unfinished work' she mumbled about on the hill was in reference to the film plans she had, possible notions of a comeback, or the yearning for a return to the fame and popularity that she celebrated earlier. Maybe.
I feel that Heather and I should return to that hill, find Mary Pickford or whoever that spirit is, and have another conversation. This time, we'll know who she is, and our focus won't be distracted by an investigation.