I once had an awesome, erotic dream about someone and then that someone woke me up from that dream by calling me on the phone.
I blushed through the whole phone call.
:blush:

I've had the pleasure of being in the same room with Richard Ramirez back when San Quentin used to allow death row inmates as a group to have family and/or legal visits in a lunch room like setting. His journalist/wife would come to see him. It was a little trippy.

I don't have too many psychic moments. However, one Sunday morning about ten years ago, I brought in the paper that was, as usual, wrapped in coupons and crap. As soon as I touched it, I had a horrible feeling of dread. I unrolled it to the front page, and the headline read "Diana Dead!"

One idea I had for a spooky swanking was to spend a night at the Hotel Roosevelt in Hollywood. Apparently, there are ghosts of Marilyn Monroe and Montgomery Clift there. How cool would that be?

Here's a creepy site about it.

I don't know the exact address, but the (modern) entrance is on Highland, north of Milner (which is the street north of Franklin). It's very close to the Hollywood Freeway.

OMG, you mean these were just old wives tales told at these old apartments? The whole thing about Valentino's guest Villas and mistress Eva pure myth or worse???


Then I have to wonder who the ghost named EVA really was! Which, for some reasons, freaks me out completely!!!

:eek:

Eva, pshaw.
It's Zsa Zsa that you have to worry about...
:D

We already had that swanking.


:confused: Where the hell is Lashbear lately, anyways????













ETA: That site is cool, btw

We did?! Did we stay there? Did we stay in room 928?

I'm not good at geography, Valentino could well have shared an apartment in the area of Whitley/Franklin, etc. He also lived for a time (and I do not know the address) with his friend cameraman Paul Ivano. But I thought that was at the Formosa Apartments (and I do not remember where they were)

I'm not surprised if they were old wives tales. They still go on, there is a new club opening on Hollywood Blvd. that claims to have been a former speakeasy in the 1920s and they're touting Valentino was part owner. He wasn't. He was not a good businessman by any stretch and did not invest in real estate (not like Mary Pickford, the oft quoted "Doug [Fairbanks] paid the bills, Mary bought the corner lots") Aside which, being from the lower portion of the boot in Italy, he would have known better than to get involved with anything Mafia. I'm sure, however, that he did have a bootlegger, everyone did. I digress, old wives tales abound in hauntings (like everyone you can name haunts the Roosevelt Hotel).

Eva, who knows?

Several years ago, I was visiting a friend who lived in another state. I got up in the middle of the night to use the restroom. I was washing my hands. In the mirror I saw a large shapeless shadow move across the wall behind me. It had sharp, distinct edges; and I could see the wallpaper pattern through it.

I was fully awake (I hadn’t been sleeping well). It wasn’t a waking dream. The bathroom was an interior room – no windows – and the door was closed. The room was very bright; the whole ceiling in the sink area was illuminated by florescent tubes behind frosted plastic panels, so it couldn’t have been my shadow.

The next morning, I told my hosts what I’d seen. They admitted that the house was haunted, and that they had seen the same apparition in other rooms.

I was asking myself that same question the other day!