Early on I realized that other kids don't see spirits - and as I got older and older, many reacted badly to me speaking about seeing spirits. So I had a strange relationship with spirits. Vacillating between thinking I was nuts and knowing I was seeing incorporeal humans- I kept it mostly to myself and tried to forget a lot of what I saw which disturbed me. Of course, now I know as an adult that trying to forget often makes the memories even deeper. The Tower being one of those places I tried to put into the "forget" category.
I saw as many spirits as I saw tourists on this busy day. People walked right through the spirits every minute - causing the static feeling from this meeting of spirits - the spirits sometimes greatly angered for a moment but returned to their duties. Guards, prisoners, officials, royals, deceased tour guides even - ancient and recent - all going out their days as if time bore no meaning.
So many spirits realized I could see them, and stared back at me. Eyes fixed in contact with mine, stopping their paces and searching my face or form for something. Maybe they were curious, maybe upset, maybe they tried to see what was similar between other mediums and myself? My communications were limited as a child, I can sense emotions and see pictures and sense the sense communications now - whereas as a child I could only hear them clearly when they tried their hardest. Time hones the ability if you focus and experiment. That moment, I felt like crying, I recall. Tens of eyes watching me before going down a set of tight stairs. I don't recall all of them, but let me share what I do remember.
There was a man in fancy red uniform, similar to the modern "Beefeaters" - officially known as Yeoman Warders - only the uniform was a darker red, less intense, and I remember the fancy golden embroidery was more intricate and busy. Some had black uniforms around him, faces hidden behind a blur of dark grey for a reason I've never been able to find out. He had a red beard, extremely well kept, a sceptre/mace, and beautiful blue-green eyes like the colour of shallow tropical waters over white sands. He smiled at me, but also had a severity about him. He tried to speak to me in some strange sounding language I thought must have been Scandinavian or a heavily accented Gaelic, which I found out later in school was Old English when my class learned the Canterbury Tales by Chaucer. (Wonderful stuff if you've never read, hilarious) I remember the first few pages read by the teacher giving me a big smile as I realized it had been what the Yeoman Warder had probably been speaking. Not 100% sure of course, but it fits in many aspects. His tone suggested he was warning me to go, or telling me I was being naughty and should stop, or maybe even asking me what I was doing staring at him lol. He stood in front of a painting or tapestry or something, I forget, but it was easy to stare at him pretending I was admiring the antique artwork. Well I did that too, I'm sure.
Another figure that stuck deep in my mind was a photographer that was dressed oddly. He had long brown, straight, hair and brownish eyes I seem to recall, but his clothes were : a hip length light brown leather jacket with the edges tasseled as if someone had cut out strips of the leather (like you see on stereotypical movies about Native Americans; light blue jeans with turquoise coloured stones on the pocket in a mosaic pattern (can't recall the pattern); leather sandals - with socks!; and a hair band of the same leather. He was taking photos everywhere and didn't notice me as he seemed busy. The camera was very realistic.
Next was a tall woman in tights and a t-shirt. That's all I recall.
The most interesting of the people I saw appeared when the guide came to a real used chopping block for executions. It was a woman in a dark red and black dress, crying incessantly. She had a veil of lace over her face and screamed out in thickly accented (don't know what region of French it'd be) French - "arrête!" (Stop.) She didn't see me and tried to knock over the block with her small booted foot. As quickly as she appeared, she disappeared. Was it a woman who was executed? Or someone who had spectated the death of a loved one? I don't know but it coloured history for me deeply when it came to executions. No longer was it a two dimensional fact, I felt so sad and horrified whenever it was mentioned. I am glad I can no longer remember the depth of the emotion she exuded, as it haunted me for years after.
Even though there were terrifying moments, it was also fantastic to see the building steeped in history as much as spiritual energy. Were some of the spirits echoes of a horrible situation? Or were they all spirits with thoughts, feelings, and afterlives? I don't know what those echoes or event loops are, but I have seen them, or something that looks a lot like them. I'd have to visit again to get a feel for the place as an adult, when my health permits far in the "maybe" realms.
Have a lovely day, I hope to write again soon.
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