When Memories Become Reality

I was recently reading about theories of ghost phenomena in a book written by the directors of The Searcher Group, a well-established paranormal investigation group based in Canada. I appreciate their approach to investigating paranormal claims, particularly their willingness to be transparent about not only existing theories but also theories they have developed and experimented with themselves. One of their most foundational theories is what they call The Memory Bubble, or The Memory Matrix.

The theory, as described in their book, The Complete Paranormal Investigation Handbook, begins with the familiar idea that, at the time of death, a person’s life may flash before their eyes. The Searcher Group theorizes that a person selects a profound moment from those memories, a moment associated with happiness, remorse, pain, or other intense emotion, and creates a new reality in which to continue existing after death. This memory may be like a routine problem or event that the spirit plays and works through over and over, creating such a sense of familiarity that the spirit continues to feel as though they are still alive and living within the physical world. 

According to the authors, a small percentage of spirits may unknowingly break out of this “memory bubble” when a kind of synchronicity occurs, likely when a living person shows up at the right place at the right time or resembles someone within the memory. The spirit may perceive that person as part of its altered reality, creating confusion and causing the spirit to come forward to interact and emotions to escalate. The amount of emotional energy behind these thoughts can cause the memory to be projected outward into our reality, resulting in haunting phenomena that can be witnessed by the living.

Upon reading this hypothesis, I was reminded of an experience I had a few years ago. We were on a two-night paranormal investigation at the Klondike Hotel in Manilla, Iowa. On the second night, we participated in a group sound bowl meditation, followed by a mirror scrying session for those who wanted to participate. It was only my second time using my mirror. 

Mirror scrying is the practice of gazing intently, but softly, into a piece of glass that has been painted black on the back. In a dimly lit room, prolonged gazing is intended to quiet the mind and induce a light meditative trance. From there, the intention is to perceive messages through sounds, symbols, images, or feelings that may arise from your intuition or a perceived connection with spirit.

We set up an antique wooden table in the parlor with enough chairs for five of us to sit around it. All of the lights were turned off except for the adjacent hallway light. A street lamp outside and a few battery-operated tealights provided the rest of the illumination. As everyone settled in and quieted down, I gazed into my gold-framed mirror. 

It wasn’t long before I started crying. I felt overwhelmingly sad, and I couldn’t stop crying. I became concerned that I was going to bother the other people who were scrying, so I picked up my mirror and moved to a small table next to the window. I sat back down, took a deep breath, looked into my mirror, and started crying again. I don’t cry easily, and I don’t particularly like crying, so I decided I was done. I put my mirror facedown on the table and waited for the others to finish.

When the session was over, we discussed our experiences. One of the other investigators had taken photographs of us while we were scrying, and she allowed me to look through them. That’s when I noticed something unusual. 

In one photograph*, everyone who had been scrying was clearly visible, except for me on the right-hand side. I appeared somewhat transparent. At the time the photograph was taken, I had not yet moved to the table by the window. My mirror was still sitting on the group table directly in front of me. When the photograph is enlarged, there appears to be the face of an old woman in the chair where I was sitting. What I find particularly interesting is that the face bears a resemblance to my great-great grandmother.

The investigator who took the photograph identifies as an intuitive medium. While we were still at the investigation site the next morning, she told me that she sensed I reminded the old woman of her daughter. She also sensed that this woman had not seen her daughter for a very long time before her death. 

I acknowledge that my interpretation of this photograph could be an example of pareidolia. Pareidolia is the tendency of the human brain to perceive a familiar or meaningful image in an ambiguous pattern.  It’s the same reason we might see a person’s face in the folds of a curtain or mistake a pile of clothes on a chair for someone standing in the room. It’s also possible that the medium’s interpretation was influenced by what she had observed during the scrying session or by seeing the photograph herself. I can’t rule either possibility out. 

But setting skepticism aside for a moment, there are some interesting parallels between my experience and the Memory Bubble theory. If we entertain the theory, we could speculate that the spirit of the old woman was caught within a memory involving the absence of her daughter. My resemblance to that daughter could have created the kind of synchronicity The Searcher Group describes, as a moment in which a living person is perceived as part of the spirit’s familiar reality. If so, perhaps the sadness I experienced during the scrying session was somehow connected to that memory. This is a fascinating possibility, but not one I can confidently draw a conclusion from without more tangible evidence. 

I find the Memory Bubble/Matrix Theory compelling as a plausible explanation for some types of haunting activity, but there is one main element that I don’t necessarily agree with. I’m not convinced that everyone who dies is destined to be trapped in a new reality of their own making. 

I can, however, embrace the idea that the afterlife could be something much like a matrix. For instance, a network or connection that allows consciousness to exist and communicate across multiple realities. It’s possible disruptions occur within that connection, such as a spirit becoming attached to a particular memory at the time of death. Perhaps this attachment leaves the spirit entangled somewhere between its remembered reality and our physical reality, creating a kind of gateway. Possibly that gateway could swing open when emotional energy runs high, providing us with a glimpse into another reality.

Maybe this is what happened at the Klondike Hotel. Maybe there is an old woman in the photograph. Maybe the tears I experienced were my own emotions, or those of someone else, or they were an unexpected response to an unrelated event. I’m not looking for definitive answers. I’m looking for more questions, more experiences, and more possibilities.

Could this experience have been a possible example of the kind of synchronicity described by The Searcher Group, or are we simply wired to find connections in the unexplained?

*Out of privacy and respect, I have edited two individuals out of the photo.