In the late 90s a friend was visiting from out of town for a few days of paranormal discussion. We were sharing our life experiences and the subject of cemeteries came up. The following day we decided to explore the Rose Hill Cemetery near my home in Chicago. While driving through the cemetery my friend noticed a grave with her last name on it and we stopped to have a look.
The grave was for a teenage girl who had passed away in the 19th century. We decided to both attempt to communicate with the child and stood silent near the grave. I had my head bowed forward and was looking at the ground and thinking about this young girl, asking questions to myself about how she might of died and how her family might of reacted to her death at such a young age.
I looked up then and experienced a change in vision. The summer afternoon was gone and I found myself standing along the same cemetery road, but it was unpaved, the weather was cold and I noticed a little snow on the ground. Focusing on what was around me I noticed a row of horse and buggies and people dressed in dark colors. I saw this image momentarily, perhaps for just two or three seconds, until my normal sight snapped back into place and I stood again in the summer sunshine next to the teen’s grave. It was somewhat frightening to feel like I was in a different time, but once firmly rooted in my own time, it was also a strangely good feeling that I had just been able to have a glimpse of this child’s funeral. I approached the grave.
As I stood directly over her grave plot I bowed my head again and closed my eyes and thought about what I had just experienced. A minute later I opened my eyes again, staring at the grass growing on top of the grave, and I began to see a white mist coming up out of the ground. I did not turn my head or move my eyes for a minute as I watched this mist move out of the ground and up into the air. I finally relaxed myself somewhat and raised my eye level and was aware that I seemed to be completely engulfed in the mist. It was a very good feeling as though I were somehow communicating with the spirit of the child. The communication was not with words, but just with feelings, that she was happy that we had come by her grave for a visit and were thinking of her. A minute later the mist disappeared and I moved away from the grave.
I spoke with my friend and told her about what I had just experienced, but soon discovered that the mist rising up out of the grave was not noticed and was part of my vision only. I decided to test the idea that only I could see the mist, now that she was aware of what I was seeing.
I stepped back to the grave and lowered my head again, closing my eyes briefly, and then opening them again. The mist came up from the grave again and repeated what had just happened. Several minutes later it disappeared and again I stepped away from the grave. My friend did not see the mist.
For one final test, we left the graveyard and returned with a 35mm camera and color print film. We repeated the experience again, but now my friend walked around me and took photos of me from different angles. One hour later we looked at the prints and soon discovered that Kodak paper could not pick up the mist – there were only nice shots of me looking as though I were meditating over a grave.
I have since returned to the gravesite several times and always experienced the same white mist coming up out of the ground and engulfing my body. I even tried going to different graves and trying to repeat the experience there thinking that my creative mind was causing me to have the experience. But the mist did not appear with other graves – only this one grave. While the experience may still be a figment of my own creative imagination, it has made me wonder about this particular young lady and why she would want to communicate with me through a mist.