I have always been enamoured with the idea of spirits. Most Haunted, Ghost Hunters, etc., always fascinated me when they were on television. But a strong sense of, self-preservation, for lack of a better phrase, kept me from actively seeking out the paranormal. I was always of the mind, 'If a ghost has something to say to me, they'll come and find me.'
In 2009, I was just under a year from graduating from film school. A project came up where we had to create a three minute television segment about places to go, things to do and see in and around the Los Angeles area. Immediately I thought about The Queen Mary. I'd never been on board her, and had always been curious. I contacted their PR department, and they agreed to let me film there. So, with a single cameraman in tow, I headed down the 405 to Long Beach, thirty minutes away from where I lived.
Stepping on board, I felt no ill will towards myself, no sense of dread, no urgent need to turn and run. In fact, I felt quite comfortable. I've always believed myself to be a little bit of a sensitive, being able to 'feel' out the emotional vibes of a situation without being a full on medium or psychic. It hadn't failed me before, so I was content to remain and go on the tour that had been arranged for us.
The majority of the tour was interesting from an historical point of view, and all seemed calm. We walked across a catwalk high in one of the former engine rooms into a narrow hallway about forty-five minutes into the tour. I was first in the line of the people that were with us, just behind the tour guide. The guide stopped about 10 yards off of the catwalk and opened a door to our left. Whatever calm, safe feelings I had immediately vanished with a rush of air that came through the door towards me. Every single hair on my body stood on end, I took two physical steps back and everything within me screamed out, 'NO! Do NOT go in there!'
I looked towards my cameraman, who watched me with a raised eyebrow. I felt like a fool for reacting so powerfully to what seemed like to others just a door opening, but there was no way I wanted to go in that room. As the others shuffled by us, the guide announced that I could not stay in the hallway, because we were not leaving through the same door. He disappeared into the room, and my cameraman followed; stopping just inside the doorway to wait for me. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward into a room that I had heard of, but had never been in. The infamous first class pool area.
We stayed in the room for around twenty minutes or so, as the guide told the story of the legend of the room and what it supposedly holds; a vortex to the other side. And it's open to any and all spirits, not just to those who died aboard the ship.
For those of you who have not been on board The Queen Mary, the first class pool area is separated into two levels; the first being the pool level, the second being the observation level. Near the end of our time in the room, I was up on the observation level with only my cameraman and the tour guide on the same level. Everyone else in the group was on the pool level. I was standing with my back towards a wall, facing my cameraman, who had his back towards me and both of his hands holding the camera. The guide was about ten to fifteen feet to my right.
I'm thinking how well everything is going when I feel this slow, deliberate tug on the hood of the hoodie I was wearing, like someone had either brushed by me or wanted to get my attention. Not really thinking much of it, I turned to my left; perhaps someone in the group had come up and brushed behind me to get past me. There was no one there. Hhmm. Interesting. I turned to my right. No one there except the guide and he's nowhere near close enough to touch me. I turn in a complete circle and still NOTHING.
Burying my impulse to start screaming like a little kid, I calmly walked over to the guide, feeling invisible eyes watching me, told him what had happened, and that I felt I needed to leave the room immediately. He smiled and as he gathered the group to leave the pool area, he said that he had been waiting for something to happen. He proudly stated that on every tour he gave, it never failed that at least one person would have an experience. Turns out, I had been singled out as "The One" for that day.
I get you when you say you get the feeling that it seems like no one should be there or everyone should be there. However with me, each time I've gone into that room, it seems as if I'm walking into a room where no living person has the right to be. Does that make sense? The Queen's salon is another area of the ship that I found just, 'other worldly.' Like we were sneaking into a place we (living people) shouldn't be.
Miracles~ it actually turned out great! I'm quite proud of it and ended up as one of the pieces on my thesis reel. 😊