The love course of life shines in the corner of life obscurely like leisurely clouds, which drift slowly, illuminating our hearts and warming our life. All of these remind us of the happiness, disconsolation in the past years. One together with you, we walked through that beautiful song. That momentary magnificence is well worthy of my life-long memory. You are going to rest with your fathers, and these people will soon prostitute themselves to the foreign gods of the land they are entering. They will forsake me and break the covenant I made with them. Many disasters and difficulties will come on them. And I will certainly hide my face on that day because of all their wickedness in turning to other gods.  Yesterday, quite unintentionally, I tore a hundred-dollar note in two pieces and gave half to a woman who was visiting me. Is that, too, a symptomatic action?  #RyanPhillippe 1 of 18

I wished to note the names of a number of person to whom I could apply for charitable assistance. There was no paper, so my patient grasped the envelope from my desk, and without thinking of its contents, tore it in two pieces, one of which I kept and gave the other to my visitor. Note the harmlessness of this aimless occurrence. It is known that a hundred-dollar note suffers no loss in value when it is torn, provided all the pieces are produced. That I would not throw away the pieces of paper was assumed by the importance of the names on it, and there was just as little doubt that I would return the valuable content as soon as I noticed it. I am not mistaken; I consider myself indebted for this advice. Should this have halved hundred-dollar note gone to pay a fee? #RyanPhillippe 2 of 18

It began prosaically enough with afternoon tea. Randolph and I had tea with me by my pool of my Beverly Hills home. It was 4 July 2014. Glancing up from the tea table, I saw a man come from the dining area of the house and walk toward us. Wondering idly why they had not been introduced, Randolph watched as a man strode briskly around in the pool. He was a middle aged gentleman dressed formally in a black suit, white shirt and tie. His hair was thinning at the top, and he had a charming potato nose. The unidentified man appears to bleed at the throat. Studying the latter portrait carefully, one sees what appears to be tiny beads of blood forming just above the starched white collar spreading to a dark red line along the throat. #RyanPhillippe 3 of 18

Recently, a team of Psychic Science Investigators visited the house. Several felt, while climbing the stairs to the second floor, that their progress was impeded. Later, learning the background of the house, they discussed the former owner, speculated as to whether they were not reliving a fragment of the pain and frustration which I must have felt as the years passed when I was no longer able to climb the stairs because the second floor was closed off entirely. Many visitors to the home have been puzzled by an unexpected noise, the sound of a baby crying in the upstairs nursery. Members of the PSI team heard it too. While resting their hands on the crib, some received impressions of an infant’s death. It was later learned that Jennifer Null, the baby daughter of the former caretaker, had died in the room.  #RyanPhillippe 4 of 18

Both wished on account of their pecuniary circumstances to be spared from being additionally blessed with children. Not only is the Heritage Park haunted, but possibly former caretaker, Ben Crawford (Ryan Phillippe) is as well. One night, Ben says, he was lying in bed, wide awake, when an apparition of a man appeared before him. It said: You know who I am? Don’t take any bull shit! I considered myself wicked, criminal, and immoral, but at the time, I was almost crazy with nervousness. I had often reproached myself with the words, ‘You really had your child killed,’ and I feared that such a crime could not remain unpunished. Now that you have assured me that there is nothing seriously wrong with my eyes, I am quite assured I have already been sufficiently punished.  #RyanPhillippe 5 of 18

This accident, therefore, was on the one hand a retribution for my sin, but on the other hand it may have served as an escape from a more dire punishment which I had feared for many months. In the moment that I ran to the shop to buy the picture, the memory of this whole history, with its fears (already quite active in her unconscious at the time I warned my husband), became overwhelming and could perhaps find expression in words like these: ‘But why do you want an ornament for the nursey?—you who had your child killed! You are a murderer! The punishment is surely approaching!’  Sheet-clad guests had a pleasant–if uneventful time–until eleven-thirty when every light in the place when out. Suddenly a terrific crash was heard in the dining room. A wrong iron candelabra had crashed to the floor. #RyanPhillippe 6 of 18

This thought did not become conscious, but instead of it I made use of the situation—I might say of the psychological moment—to utilize in a commonplace manner the heap of stones to inflict upon myself this punishment. It was for this read that I did not even attempt to put out my arms while falling and was not much frightened. The second, and probably lesser, determinant of my accident was obviously the self-punishment for my unconscious wish to be rid of my husband, who was an accessory to the crime in this affair. This was betrayed by my absolutely superfluous warning to be very careful in the street on account of the stones. For, just because my husband had a weak leg, he was very careful in walking. #RyanPhillippe 7 of 18

Another strange incident occurred one evening when I was rehearsing a play with the Scheherazade Players in an antiquated barn at the rear of the park which had been converted into a theater. The seating capacity of the place is limited, the ambiance intimate. The audience is very close to the stage and we can see each individual quite clearly, I explained. While going over my lines, I noticed an older man sitting in the front row. I assumed that he must be the father of a cast member, but wondered why he was dressed in such old fashioned looking clothes. As soon as the scene was over, I started toward him to introduce myself—only to see him disappear before my eyes.  #RyanPhillippe 8 of 18

The Scheherazade Players—or possibly their barn—may have been responsible for still a different type of phenomena. While the group was performing The Valkyrie, a friend took a series of pictures. When the roll was developed, they found what looked like bolts of white lightning superimposed over the original subjects. Many parapsychologist believe this type of phenomenon indicates the presence of spirits or spirit energy. The Heritage Park is the Stanley House which was built in 1891 and have been retained in all its gingerbread elegance. (12174 Euclid Avenue in Garden Grove.)  #RyanPhillippe 9 of 18

When we went back to the Beverly Hills house, I began to hear the sounds of chairs being pushed back in the dining room, as though guests were rising from some ghostly dinner party. After a few nights of this, I cut away all the branches which had been rubbing against the dining room window. The sound did not stop. In August, my husband went to Yugoslavia to make a movie, leaving me alone in the house—or so we thought. The noises in the dining room continued. One three occasions a locked window seemingly unlocked itself in the night and was wide open in the morning. Twice we heard the front door open and shut even though it was found to be bolted in the morning.  #RyanPhillippe 10 of 18

Before joining Randolph in Yugoslavia, I arranged to have a detective check the house periodically in our absence. The man reported finding doors and windows wide open, although nothing was missing. Once, while driving by the house at two-thirty in the morning, I discovered all the lights on. Just as I pulled in the drive, they went off. An electrician checked the fuse box and lines, but could find nothing wrong. The dogs began to react as though to a presence that no one else saw. They would suddenly start to bark while starting toward the entrance of the dining room. When my son was a baby, he would often run to a certain spot in the dining room and then trotted out exactly as if following someone, like he was being punished or went somewhere he was not supposed to.  #RyanPhillippe 11 of 18

In August of 2015, I closed the house again and went on a month’s vacation. During this time Marvin Chandler, the pool maintenance man, was surprised to catch a glimpse through the terrace windows of a man walking through the dining room. Marvin Chandler noted that the man’s hands were clasped behind his back. He was tall, heavy-set, elderly man wearing dark trousers, a tie and white shirt. He was sporting with the older child, by far his favorite. He tossed it high in the air and repeated this tossing till finally he throust it so high that its head almost struck the massive gas chandelier. Almost, but not quite, or say “just about!” Nothing happened to the child except that it became dizzy from fright. The father stood transfixed with the child in his arms, while the mother merged into an hysterical attack. #RyanPhillippe 12 of 18

I was not satisfied with this as the determination of my accident, and asked whether he had something else to tell me. ‘Yes, just before the accident, I noted a nice picture in a shop on the other side of the street, which I suddenly desired as an ornament for my nursery, and wished to buy it at once. I sent Randolph thereupon he walked across to the shop without looking at the street, stumbling over a heap of stones, and fell with his face against the wall without making the slightest effort to shield himself with his hands. The intention to buy the picture for you was immediately forgotten, and he walked home in haste.’ The particular facility of this careless movement, with the violent reactions in the patents, suggested to me to look upon this accident as a symbolic action which gave the expression to an evil intention toward the beloved child. #RyanPhillippe 13 of 18

I often reported feeling generally depressed, anxious, and tired. I often felt like I was underwater and numb. There is a lot of emotion in me that I cannot relieve. I often felt sad, angry, and fearful for unknown reasons. I was also burdened by many self-critical thoughts, including the beliefs that something was wrong with me, that I was not good enough to have a black son, and that I did not know how to relate to others. I am mused whether I was trying to preserve imaginary ties to my family with my depression—a prescient insight. I had few friends and it was hard to connect with others.  #RyanPhillippe 14 of 18

I am also bright, creative, and philosophically inquisitive with a wry sense of humor. My family origin is deeply troubled: my mother had been very anxious, distracted, and unable to strongly bond. My father had been highly critical and verbally aggressive. My parents divorced when I was five years old, after which my father became hostile and devaluing toward my mother. In time, influenced by my father’s relentlessly harsh criticism, I lost respect for my mother. While I loved her, I saw her as pathetic and incompetent. When she twenty-one, she was murdered by her boyfriend. I was alienated by my father, in a tumultuous relationship with my fiancée, and struggling to get my get my career off the ground. We met for a total of eighty-two sessions over a little more than two years.  #RyanPhillippe 15 of 18

I told you about my family history and clarified the issues that I wanted to work on, and more precisely explored my felt sense of self. I shared an image of myself as a little boy reaching out and wanting to be picked up. I am wanting, learning, reaching out to be part of something, but I feel separate. Other are not attending to or connecting to me enough, so I want to pull back. I am walking around half alive. I sense a light in me that was not safe to share with my family. I have a strong longing and deep fear to open up and connect with others and with something greater than my limited sense of self. The chasm of separation and aloneness seemed impassable to me.  #RyanPhillippe 16 of 18

Yesterday, while cutting my nails, I had cut into the flesh while engaged in trimming the cuticle. This is of so little interest that some asked in astonishment why it is at all remembered and mentioned, and therefore come to the conclusion that we deal with a symptomatic action. It was really the finger upon which the wedding ring is worn which was injured through this slight awkwardness. It happened, moreover, on my wedding-day, which thus gives to the injury of the delicate skin a very definite and easily guessed meaning. My secret affection as a boy belonged to a physician who was jokingly called Doktor der Line (literally Doctor of Left). Incidentally, a left-handed marriage has a definite meaning.  #RyanPhillippe 17 of 18

However, other material must be considered. Several days before, a woman mediator of a different sort had inquired of a relative whether the gracious young man wished to make the acquaintance of a certain gentleman, at a nightclub called Purgatory. And that morning, some hours before the man’s visits, the wooing letter of the suitor arrived, giving occasion for the mirth. Both mediators became fused into one in this repressed thought, and I handed the visitor the fee which her phantasy was ready to give the other. This resolution became perfectly convincing when I add that I had told her of such chance or symptomatic actions only the previous evening, while I saw a shooting star. She then took advantage of the next occasion to produce an analogous action. I have never had such a feeling of menace, I could not get out fast enough.  #RyanPhillippe 18 of 18