posted on May, 18 2014 @ 09:15 AM
I have come to believe that quantum physics will provide an explanation for what we have previously considered to be 'supernatural'. When the
phenomenon is interpreted through the eyes of previous generations the descriptions reflect the state of scientific understanding and spiritual
teachings of the time and we are left with quaint gothic ghost stories.
Having previously experienced inexplicable events, I am open to the possibility of dimensions beyond the one we corporally occupy.
One day I tried an experiment that scared the crap out of me.
As a longtime film maker I have found myself alone in many locations considered to be connected with the supernatural.
Abandoned prisons, asylums, mortuaries, hospitals, museums, battlefields, forts, crime scenes and other places where ghosts had reportedly been
witnessed. I never felt a thing.
On a private, off season tour of the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn Michigan I was particularly excited about being in The home of the Wright brothers.
I have always been enthralled by aviation. It was my first love, driving me to read everything I could find, on any and every aspect of flying.
Henry Ford was obsessive in his collecting. Not only had he moved the historic home to Dearborn, but also the furnishings, clothes, books and personal
possessions of the Wright family. The fence, the outhouse and even the vegetation were all brought to Ford's Detroit property.
Somehow I found myself alone in the Wright home, in Orville's bedroom, sitting on his bed surrounded by the artifacts of his life. It was a very
auspicious moment and I was so deeply moved it occurred to me to try a simple test.
I spoke to him.
I told him how important flying was to me and how much I revered he and his brother for their accomplishment. I then asked if he could send me a sign
acknowledging our connection.
A chill ran up my spine and my body tingled with goosebumps. I became terrified by this response and fearing I had opened a Pandoras box, quickly left
his room and ran from the house.
I had never experienced anything like it before, or since. Not even alone in the vacated prison cell of a serial killer, or the pitch black elevator
shaft of the Don Jail gallows.
Could he have heard me?