Some places just feel different. Many people don't like to visit hospitals or people in them. I can understand how funeral homes and cemetaries feel different than other places. Chuckie Cheese can be paradise or hell depending on how the consumer feels entering this wonderland.
When I say that some places feel different, I am referencing something a bit out of the ordinary. The place gives you a strong
and unusual feeling that you don't really expect. For example, I got a strong sensation of sadness the moment I entered Graceland's foyer. I haven't been able to explain the meaning behind it, but it was as if a blanket of someone else's feelings wrapped itself around me. I got a similar, but not as strong feeling, one time when we were looking to buy a house. Again, it happened the moment I entered the door. Later, I learned that the couple who lived there were splitting up, but I don't think that was the reason for the sad feeling. It seemed to come from something else. What? I dunno.
Walking around Stonehenge one January day gave me a feeling that some important type of ceremonial happened there. Well, duh...you might say. But it gave me a regal, but scary sensation. It felt like I was walking on some kind of revered place and it was okay that I was there. Strange, though. When I visited Cancun I climbed INSIDE a Mayan pyramid to see a treasured jaguar statue. We made our way up a crowded tiny stairway in the dark. I'm sure my claustrophobia was working that day because I could hardly breathe. As soon as I got to the tiny spot where the statue was, I had to run away. The overwhelming feeling of some kind of violence or hatred broke through my claustrophobia and sent me flying back down the crowded stairs. You can bet I won't go there again.
Am I weird or what? Has this kind of thing ever happened to you?
I remember talking with someone who visited the Holy Land and spoke of how he felt he was walking inches off the ground at some of the holy places. I'm sure this is why people go on pilgimages, but that seems to be centered on their faith, not some gut feeling when you walk into a room.
As my husband complains of every so often, I enjoy visiting writers' homes. After I drag him through a few, he has enough. I can't get enough, especially if the place has period furnishings. Perhaps I like the feeling of kinship, or maybe I'm just hoping that something will rub off on me.
Strange, isn't it?