Britisher Rodney Pascual wrote of a Back to the Past AND possible Lost Location TWIDDER he experienced as a youngster. His vivid recall of how it felt physically to have another time/place open up to him is fascinating. His interaction with the folks from a time past is spine tingling! I wonder what the diners thought when the young man on the balcony disappeared in the blinking of an eye. Did they talk about it in astonishment? Did one of them go home and record this experience in their journal?? And was the formal dining-room-from-the-past from a structure that previously sat on the parsonage property, or was it in a totally different locale??? (See original posting at firstname.lastname@example.org.)
A few years ago when I was about eight or nine, my single mother, raising three kids on her own, and I, being the youngest and only male among my two sisters, went to stay with a pastor that lived in a large city that was hours away from home.
The house was very large. The pastor . . . was young, with a glowing smile and a friendly tone. Upon touring the house . . . the man led us through a very dim hallway, and suddenly, I started to receive tunnel vision.
I felt like a very, very heavy backpack was suddenly burdening my shoulders. My walk became slowed, my family and the pastor became seemingly distant, yet their voices and laughter were heard not but only a few feet away.
As they talked, more and more of their conversation became cut off, their very bodies seemed to be blurred, and their dialogue took on a dramatic, long lasting echo that killed their sound as well as my sight of them completely.
Now this invisible backpack had added more weight to it until I was forced to stop dead in my tracks. I felt like you would if you were walking in a swimming pool. Your efforts to move your legs to walk are meaningless and you’re moving at a very slow rate. My family, the pastor, the tour . . . I forgot about them already.
At the moment, all that mattered was this peaceful, calming sensation that I was feeling. My feet are relaxed, my legs are relaxed, everything’s relaxed even though I am standing up. I didn’t have to look around to notice that the hallway, or wherever I had been whisked off to, was as dark as a room may normally get during the night.
With a large effort, I slowly turned my head to my left because a strange, golden glow had resided there since the disappearing act of the family, pastor, and dialogue took place. Now I was liberated from the strange, calming, and relaxing sensation that held me restrained to where I was standing. Nothing took great effort anymore. Moving was easier, seeing was easier, and breathing was easier.
However, this liberation did not set things back to normal. I was in a place that was supposed to be the hallway of the pastor’s house, but the strange glow and darkened dwelling stood stationary. There were also a few more changes in the picture that I did not seem to notice till I advanced toward the glow.
An old fashioned, wood carved hand railing seemed to materialize out of the darkness quickly, before I could blink. Taking a gentle hold of the polished, wooden railing with both hands, I suddenly found myself looking down at the source of the glow.
The dinner table was a long rectangular, fine piece of polished wood. Its length and width was perfect for only so many people to sit at. A long, white, thin silk-material-like table cloth topped it off.
On this elegant, silken table cloth sat a variety of warm, steaming meals. Forks, spoons, butter knives, they were all plaited with gold and formally arranged next to the plates that had a decent addition of gold plaited to its outer rims as well. The golden-ware had been set aglow by the vanilla scented candles that rested upon pure marble as its base, thus causing the friendly glow I had seen earlier.
Forcing my eyes to leave the formal dinner table for just mere seconds, I saw men and women, not dressed with the formal tuxedos and dresses of today, but rather more old-fashioned, as everything else, was very much old fashioned. The way I’d describe the whole scene is that of the Victorian era. Men with their black top hats and women with their white dresses with matching gloves that stretched up to their elbows all took notice of me on my makeshift balcony.
Everyone looking up at me smiled, raised their wine glasses, and said in a very Old English-like way, “Look here, everyone. We’ve a rather young guest at hand. Shall we invite the young man down for supper?”
Everyone clanked wine glasses in toast, signaling agreement. “Would you kindly, young sir, step down and join us?”
My heart sank in, not in a bad way. Not in a bad way at all. Never in my entire life have I been so eager to meet people of the Victorian era! It was impossible. How are they here? At that moment, nothing else mattered but joining these people in their feast and getting to know all about their time line.
I ran down the hall not even noticing that I had returned from the altered hallway, skidding past my now visible, and audio enhanced tour, turned left, and found . . . not a door that opened up to a stairway down to the Victorian era, but a door that opened up to a variety of shelves that housed snacks and cereal and canned food. I slowly turned to face my family and the pastor.
“Manners, young man! I’m so sorry, pastor. If you wanted something to eat, you should’ve asked him first before barging into his pantry,” my mom said.
The pastor put a hand on my mom’s shoulder, smiled and said, “It’s all right. He’s fine,” he turned to me. “If you’re hungry, there’s some goldfish on the third shelf that you can eat to hold you over till dinner.”
I shook my head, “I’m fine, but where are they?”
“The people downstairs that are all dressed up fancy.”
Everyone now had a confused look on their face. There was no downstairs. The only stairs that go anywhere go up in this house. I stood there, astonished. I ran back to the hall where the balcony was that showed my Victorians.
Once in the hall I pushed on the left wall, hoping that it would disintegrate and reveal my beloved balcony that led to all the beautiful people and dinner tables.
Nothing. The wall wouldn’t budge, not even a little bit, so I stood there. No invisible, heavy backpack. No calm, relaxing, warm underwater feeling, and no gold glow that appeared out of the corner of my eye inside a dark dwelling. Not even the handrail of the balcony.
Being a kid of course everyone just thought I was making it up. There was no proof of my Victorian peoples.