My Date With ‘The Conjuring’’s Lorraine Warren
Everyone wants a prestige haunting; no one wants their house haunted by the toilet repair man.
To get this out in the open: I, much like Rob Lowe, believe in ghosts. In my New England hometown, this was probably the one thing about me that didn’t make me an oddity. Everywhere you went, people were just dying to tell you about this ghost or that ghost. And I’m not just talking about, like, mall goths, or the one weirdo science teacher who goes around town on a recumbent bike, either. I hail from the unexpectedly haunted state of Connecticut, where even the fanciest Pilates moms want to tell you about the Revolutionary War ghost who lives in their half-bath and is always knocking the decorative soaps off the shelf (it’s funny how it’s always a Revolutionary War soldier, right? It’s like how everyone always assumes they were a princess in a past life. Everyone wants a prestige haunting. No one wants to their house haunted by the local toilet repair man. But I digress).
I’m sure it’s like this in plenty of areas that hold their history close, right? I mean, what’s more “the past isn’t even past” than believing that the spirit of a colonial soldier materializes in your house at night, bumping into things and disrupting your viewing of the Friends reunion?
