From Ghost Stories of CA's Gold Rush Country & Yosemite National Park"
IRENE LOBAIN'S STORY
We’ve lived in Oroville for twenty eight years. Our ghost experiences began a few weeks after my husband mother’s death fifteen years ago. Peter’s mother, Mary came to live with us in june of 1986, and died in September of that same year. Mary was diagnosed with cancer of the sinuses which soon developed into a very invasive cancer. It was not long before the doctors changed her prognosis to terminal.
Peter and I were both devastated by the news, however Mary’s overall attitude was surprisingly realistic and tranquil. Mary, the daughter of a Methodist minister, was born in Jamaica, and raised in West Virginia where she lived most her life. When she was diagnosed with cancer, most of her family and friends had preceded her in death. She had no family to care for her in Wes Virginia, so we decided to move her to Oroville.
Not long after Mary’s ultimate death and burial, Peter began to experience strange things in our home. Unusual shadows, voices and unexplained images in mirrors. On one occasion, I also got to witness a ghost experience, which left me speechless.
About two weeks after Mary’s funeral, Peter was on the phone speaking to our banker one early afternoon, when he happened to glanced out the dining room picture window and caught the image of his mother standing next to our car. Peter explained that his mother’s ghost was dressed in her favorite green dress, holding her white purse.
Peter’s impression on the visitation was that his mother’s spirit was waiting to be driven to the town of Chico to do her shopping. Mary always enjoyed, and looked forward to, her Friday shopping trip with her son.
Peter told me he was left speechless by the image. Our banker sensed that something was not right because he asked Peter, ”Are you alright, is every thing okay?” Eventually Peter ended his phone call with the banker saying, ”I need to take care of something, I’ll call you later.”
Peter then turned around and nervously described to me what he had just seen standing at the driveway. I was not convinced and told him that his imagination was working overtime. He insisted that he did see his mother standing by the car, but eventually he did convince himself that it must have been his imagination. We talked about the incident later that night before going to bed. I was concerned about his mental state, whether he was becoming stressed, or depressed. I said he needed to call our doctor to share what he had seen with him. Peter assured me he would do that the following week.
Later that night at about 4 am, I was awakened by the pressure of a hand on my forehead. I opened my eyes and in a few seconds, I began to smell my mother in law’s familiar perfume. I froze still! I knew there was something definitely strange going on. I looked over to Peter who was sound asleep. As I leaned back on my pillow, I could not let go of Mary’s strong presence in the bedroom.
I knew she was there in the room with us, I could just feel her. I kept my eyes opened and slowly scanned the darkened bedroom. Sure enough, standing in front of the closet door appeared an elongated white light, the height of the door. The light hovered about three feet off the floor and did not move. It was a dim light that glowed bright then grew dim, glowed bright, then dim. It gave me the impression of a silent heart beating very slowly, but without making any sound.
With my eyes fixed on the light, I got the courage to speak in a soft voice, ”Mary it’s time for you to leave us. It’s time for you go on to heaven.” The light kept glowing and the perfume scent grew stronger. Peter suddenly awoke and asked me what was going on. I told him to look over toward the closet, “See that light over there?” I said. Peter’s fumbling hand reached over to the night stand, searching for his glasses. By the time Peter had placed the glasses on his head, the light disappeared.
Although the light had disappeared, I remained convinced that Mary was still in the house. For the remainder of that night, I was unable to fall back to sleep. Peter kept insisting that I repeat word for word, what I had seen to him. I knew he was trying to make sense of what I had appeared to me, but his nervous questioning was making me an emotional wreak. I told him that I needed to go to the kitchen and think about things. In a few hours the sun would be up, so I explained to Peter that I would have a much clearer mind to discuss everything I had seen over breakfast. Peter remained in bed until 8 am.
That morning we both discussed what I had seen and what it all might mean. Could the glowing light that I had seen, actually be Mary’s ghost? Could there possibly be another explanation for the lights, perhaps the headlights from a passing car? Or, do I have an overactive imagination? So many possiblilities crossed my mind, but in my heart I knew what I had seen was not something that could be explained in normal terms. And what about the scent of Mary’s perfume? I still could not think of a 100% explanation that satisfied me. I remained convinced that it was actually Mary’s spirit who had visited my husband and me.
For the remainder of the day, Peter and I went about our normal daily routine. But try as I might, Mary’s visit the night before, was very difficult to erase from my mind. I decided to take a drive into town and do a bit of shopping. When I returned to the house, I walked directly into the kitchen and placed my bags on the table. I turned to open the the door to the pantry when I noticed something on the sink counter. It was Mary’s favorite coffee cup, and lying next to it was a small teaspoon.
I called to Peter who was in the living room watching television,”Peter, were you going to use your mother’s coffee cup for something?” He said, “No, why?” I told him to come to the kitchen immediately! We both stood, our eyes fixed at the cup and spoon. He swore he didn’t take it out of the cupboard, and I know I didn’t. The hair on the back of my neck began to stand on end. I knew that Peter would not have any reason to make up such a thing for the purpose of scarying me.
Without thinking any further I said,”Peter, because of everything you and I have been experiencing, I think your mother wants to tell us something. I think she wants us to wish her a good journey. I think you should communicate, tell her out loud that it’s okay to leave the house, that you’ll be fine.” Peter gave me a strange look, but realizing I might be making sense, he reached out to grasp my hand and said, ”Mother, go on to heaven. Everything will be okay with Irene and me.” The next thing that happened might sound crazy, but it did happen, I swear it did!
Right after my husband uttered those words, we heard Mary’s soft voice respond out of thin air,” Love you.” I nervously let go of Peter’s hand and embraced him. He began to cry and I felt happy knowing everything would be fine from that day on. I just knew Mary would now be happy. Nothing more has taken place to indicate Mary is still in the house. The experience gave me a certain courage and a new belief about the existence of spirits. I was a non-believer, but no longer.
Four years ago on April 12, 1997, my husband left me. He died suddenly from a heart attack. Sure I miss him very much, but because of going through the experience with Mary’s spirit, I know that Peter’s spirit is now with his mother, and that they are both doing well. This gives me comfort during those times when I miss him so much. I really do believe this. I haven’t had any visits from Peter, or his Mother. I know we go on to a better place when we die, but only if we do the right things on earth. Thank you for allowing me to tell you about what I experienced. I hope my story will bring peace to someone.
We’ve lived in Oroville for twenty eight years. Our ghost experiences began a few weeks after my husband mother’s death fifteen years ago. Peter’s mother, Mary came to live with us in june of 1986, and died in September of that same year. Mary was diagnosed with cancer of the sinuses which soon developed into a very invasive cancer. It was not long before the doctors changed her prognosis to terminal.
Peter and I were both devastated by the news, however Mary’s overall attitude was surprisingly realistic and tranquil. Mary, the daughter of a Methodist minister, was born in Jamaica, and raised in West Virginia where she lived most her life. When she was diagnosed with cancer, most of her family and friends had preceded her in death. She had no family to care for her in Wes Virginia, so we decided to move her to Oroville.
Not long after Mary’s ultimate death and burial, Peter began to experience strange things in our home. Unusual shadows, voices and unexplained images in mirrors. On one occasion, I also got to witness a ghost experience, which left me speechless.
About two weeks after Mary’s funeral, Peter was on the phone speaking to our banker one early afternoon, when he happened to glanced out the dining room picture window and caught the image of his mother standing next to our car. Peter explained that his mother’s ghost was dressed in her favorite green dress, holding her white purse.
Peter’s impression on the visitation was that his mother’s spirit was waiting to be driven to the town of Chico to do her shopping. Mary always enjoyed, and looked forward to, her Friday shopping trip with her son.
Peter told me he was left speechless by the image. Our banker sensed that something was not right because he asked Peter, ”Are you alright, is every thing okay?” Eventually Peter ended his phone call with the banker saying, ”I need to take care of something, I’ll call you later.”
Peter then turned around and nervously described to me what he had just seen standing at the driveway. I was not convinced and told him that his imagination was working overtime. He insisted that he did see his mother standing by the car, but eventually he did convince himself that it must have been his imagination. We talked about the incident later that night before going to bed. I was concerned about his mental state, whether he was becoming stressed, or depressed. I said he needed to call our doctor to share what he had seen with him. Peter assured me he would do that the following week.
Later that night at about 4 am, I was awakened by the pressure of a hand on my forehead. I opened my eyes and in a few seconds, I began to smell my mother in law’s familiar perfume. I froze still! I knew there was something definitely strange going on. I looked over to Peter who was sound asleep. As I leaned back on my pillow, I could not let go of Mary’s strong presence in the bedroom.
I knew she was there in the room with us, I could just feel her. I kept my eyes opened and slowly scanned the darkened bedroom. Sure enough, standing in front of the closet door appeared an elongated white light, the height of the door. The light hovered about three feet off the floor and did not move. It was a dim light that glowed bright then grew dim, glowed bright, then dim. It gave me the impression of a silent heart beating very slowly, but without making any sound.
With my eyes fixed on the light, I got the courage to speak in a soft voice, ”Mary it’s time for you to leave us. It’s time for you go on to heaven.” The light kept glowing and the perfume scent grew stronger. Peter suddenly awoke and asked me what was going on. I told him to look over toward the closet, “See that light over there?” I said. Peter’s fumbling hand reached over to the night stand, searching for his glasses. By the time Peter had placed the glasses on his head, the light disappeared.
Although the light had disappeared, I remained convinced that Mary was still in the house. For the remainder of that night, I was unable to fall back to sleep. Peter kept insisting that I repeat word for word, what I had seen to him. I knew he was trying to make sense of what I had appeared to me, but his nervous questioning was making me an emotional wreak. I told him that I needed to go to the kitchen and think about things. In a few hours the sun would be up, so I explained to Peter that I would have a much clearer mind to discuss everything I had seen over breakfast. Peter remained in bed until 8 am.
That morning we both discussed what I had seen and what it all might mean. Could the glowing light that I had seen, actually be Mary’s ghost? Could there possibly be another explanation for the lights, perhaps the headlights from a passing car? Or, do I have an overactive imagination? So many possiblilities crossed my mind, but in my heart I knew what I had seen was not something that could be explained in normal terms. And what about the scent of Mary’s perfume? I still could not think of a 100% explanation that satisfied me. I remained convinced that it was actually Mary’s spirit who had visited my husband and me.
For the remainder of the day, Peter and I went about our normal daily routine. But try as I might, Mary’s visit the night before, was very difficult to erase from my mind. I decided to take a drive into town and do a bit of shopping. When I returned to the house, I walked directly into the kitchen and placed my bags on the table. I turned to open the the door to the pantry when I noticed something on the sink counter. It was Mary’s favorite coffee cup, and lying next to it was a small teaspoon.
I called to Peter who was in the living room watching television,”Peter, were you going to use your mother’s coffee cup for something?” He said, “No, why?” I told him to come to the kitchen immediately! We both stood, our eyes fixed at the cup and spoon. He swore he didn’t take it out of the cupboard, and I know I didn’t. The hair on the back of my neck began to stand on end. I knew that Peter would not have any reason to make up such a thing for the purpose of scarying me.
Without thinking any further I said,”Peter, because of everything you and I have been experiencing, I think your mother wants to tell us something. I think she wants us to wish her a good journey. I think you should communicate, tell her out loud that it’s okay to leave the house, that you’ll be fine.” Peter gave me a strange look, but realizing I might be making sense, he reached out to grasp my hand and said, ”Mother, go on to heaven. Everything will be okay with Irene and me.” The next thing that happened might sound crazy, but it did happen, I swear it did!
Right after my husband uttered those words, we heard Mary’s soft voice respond out of thin air,” Love you.” I nervously let go of Peter’s hand and embraced him. He began to cry and I felt happy knowing everything would be fine from that day on. I just knew Mary would now be happy. Nothing more has taken place to indicate Mary is still in the house. The experience gave me a certain courage and a new belief about the existence of spirits. I was a non-believer, but no longer.
Four years ago on April 12, 1997, my husband left me. He died suddenly from a heart attack. Sure I miss him very much, but because of going through the experience with Mary’s spirit, I know that Peter’s spirit is now with his mother, and that they are both doing well. This gives me comfort during those times when I miss him so much. I really do believe this. I haven’t had any visits from Peter, or his Mother. I know we go on to a better place when we die, but only if we do the right things on earth. Thank you for allowing me to tell you about what I experienced. I hope my story will bring peace to someone.