The Hidden Room

​Dave De Souza, 40s

My work requires me to travel very frequently, almost 2 to 3 weeks out of a month. I get a travel package with a budget for very decent hotels and I enjoy staying at boutique hotels more than the usual branded chains because they've got more character. Refurbished heritage hotels are my favorite. These days though, after a particular incident, I think twice about staying in such places.
 
I wouldn’t consider myself a believer. Which is why most times when I listen to your podcast, I’d say I’m actually on team superational. I believe there are things we don’t understand, and unless I actually come face to face with a ghost, it’s hard for me to feel the way you do about them.
 
But that all changed at the end of last year.
 
I won’t tell you which hotel it was but it is an old historical building that had a very posh makeover. They gave me the corner unit with a nice view. There was nothing much to do around the area after dark and I’m not a nightlife type of guy, so I drank my duty free whisky by the balcony before bed.
 
I had a really vivid dream that night. I “woke up” in my dream seeing an elderly caucasian man in my room. He was standing in front of the balcony doors looking outside. I called out to him. Note that at this point I did not feel any fear, just a sense of utter sadness. I could tell he wanted something but when he spoke there was no sound. He walked through the cupboard and in the next scene I was in another room. He pointed to his diary on the dressing table and I walked over to read it.
 
I sobbed myself awake. Cheeks and pillow all wet. I had been crying in my sleep.
 
What was odd was that unlike other dreams where after waking, memories of them soon faded away, this time they remained. I remembered the musky woody smell, the content of the diary and beyond all of that I could feel a sharp pain in my gut.
 
I somehow knew that the man in my dream had been murdered by poison and his death was agonizing. I checked the time and it was still early in the night, so I went back to bed and forced myself to go back to sleep.
 
When I got up in the morning, the feeling still weighed heavily on my chest. I tried to retrace the steps from the dream - I stood in front of the balcony and then I went to the cupboard. Something compelled me to open the cupboard and check inside. Nothing out of the ordinary. I looked around the wall it was put against and just tapped around mindlessly, not knowing what to expect and realized the wall was made of wood. This was strange because old buildings were usually bricked up on all sides, and it seemed as if there was a partition erected to divide the room which was larger originally. I looked outside

to see if there was another room beside mine, but there was none. As I said, mine was the corner unit. Structure wise, it looked like there was space for another room but none for doors.
 
After breakfast, I went to chat with the proprietor of the hotel. He was actually surprised when I asked about its history. His demeanor changed when I described the old man I saw in my dreams. Apparently over the years, many people have seen the “Baron”, a nickname the hotel staff gave the man. It turned out that there was indeed another room beside mine but due to the high number of sightings and complaints, they have had to seal up that room. I described the room in my dream and the proprietor validated that my description was accurate.
 
As the legend goes, this building belonged to two business partners, but when one of the partners passed away, the younger partner sold off the property to new owners and left. A few months later, he came back to beg the new owners to let him buy back the building. The new owners had other plans in mind and refused the offer. The man was desperate and kept spouting that it was a matter of life and death. The new owners did not relent. Two days later, the young man did not wake up from his sleep.
 
I did not know how but I just knew then that the partner had poisoned the old man because he wanted to sell the property for a tidy profit but the old man did not want to. The proprietor laughed and said, ‘maybe’, but he was curious about how I knew because the legend was not public knowledge or on the internet. Only people who were related to the family knew of this. I then gave him more information about my dream. He shook his head and said that it was really uncanny because everything I said were things only a small select group of people would know. I asked about a diary but the proprietor did not know anything about it. By the time he had taken over, the property had changed hands a few times.
 
That night before I went to bed, I wrote a note to Baron and left a glass of whiskey for him by the dresser. I said that I knew of his secret and I believed him. It had been way too long and perhaps it was time he tried to let go of the past. Whoever had done him wrong have long passed on.
 
I did not know if that message went through but that night and the few nights after, I slept peacefully. On the day I left and was about to get into the cab, I looked up at my room again - out of instinct - and I thought I saw someone standing on my balcony looking at me. When I took a second look, the man was gone.
 
So yes, Eugene, I think this time I might have actually come face to face with a ghost and I’m thankfully it wasn’t like most of the stories I heard on your channel.
 
Eugene’s Note

1. Ghosts of the past who had died a wrongful death or had their belongings taken from them tend to be unable to move on.
2. Sometimes they just need validation - for someone to believe them.