“Goodnight, goodnight, until we meet again…”
By Wendy Garrett | Wendy’s Coffeehouse
It Begins with a Knock (or Maybe a Voice)
It’s that time of year again, October, when the energy shifts and the air feels just a little more alive. Paranormal events tend to amplify now, like the world itself is a tuning fork humming with unseen frequencies.
Saturday night, we were settled in watching TV when someone came to the door. I heard an inquiring voice call out, “Hello?” Cassie, our dog, leapt from her bed and barked, dashing off to greet our guest. Andy followed her, saying, “Someone’s at the door.”
I trailed behind, curious, expectant. The porch light should have tripped on automatically, but it didn’t. Cassie stood wagging at an empty doorway. No one there. We looked at each other, that “did you hear that too?” moment. Familiar to anyone who’s ever brushed against the edge of the veil.
Comparing notes at that point, we discovered Andy had heard a loud knock. I hadn’t. I’d heard a voice. He hadn’t. Whatever Cassie heard made her charge off, eager to greet an invisible visitor. The timing stood out: exactly 7 p.m.
That’s when we’d normally be arriving in Weston for the annual Dining with Ghosts event, a tradition for more than a decade, minus the pandemic pause. The spirits there have always been welcoming and friendly. I’ve often felt called to connect. This year, though, no trip. Apparently, one of them decided to drop by instead.
Just a spectral “Hello,” a reminder October is here, and it’s showtime!
Interested? One more weekend to go. Info and Tickets: Link
Invitation from the Unseen
I’ve learned not to go wandering where I haven’t been invited. But when my guides said, “We have a surprise for you,” there was that unmistakable shimmer of humor in the air, and a nudge toward The Stanley Hotel.
When my nightlight energy is close, I trust there is a purpose. Ghosts, like people, each have their own reason for connecting. When one needs my help, they find me. Sometimes there is a message or there can be a lesson to pass along.
We stayed in Boulder and drove to Estes Park. My nightlight was active in our hotel room, accompanied by the room desk lamp. In the morning, I woke with a stubborn knot between my shoulders, what the guides jokingly called “the monkey on your back.” The ache vanished when we started on the road.
Music on Arrival
From the moment we drove up the long drive to the hotel, I could feel it, music in the air, subtle and alive. My guides laughed softly: “Can you hear us singing?”
The Stanley breathes, the space pulses with presence. I found my way to the souvenir shop, following an inner pull. The attendant there pointed me to a new tour guide, the person my guides had arranged for me to meet.
The first telepathic ping came when my companion asked for restroom directions. The reply arrived before the words were spoken, clear, polite, and not entirely human.
When I mentioned the musical presence, the guide smiled. I had found the musical ghost: Mrs. Stanley, the original hostess and heart of the music room. We visited the piano. The guide told me about his experience with Mrs, Stanley. In spirit, she’s still there, invisible hands gliding across keys only she can see.
The Stanley Hotel is a beautifully maintained space. The energy I felt during our daytime visit was loving and playful, the vibe, enchanting. I felt the music rather than heard it, but that changed as we drove away. I began to hear voices and words.
We were serenaded by music only I could hear. The song was familiar but I had to look it up to confirm it because it had been ages since the last time I had heard it. Finally, I have the right title. It was Adios, Au Revoir, Auf Wiedersehn, the closing theme from The Lawrence Welk Show, written by George Cates and John M. Elliott, © Harry Von Tilzer Music Publishing Co.
“Goodnight, goodnight, until we meet again
Adios, Au Revoir, Auf Wiedersehn ’til then
And though it’s always sweet sorrow to part
You know you’ll always remain in my heart
Goodnight, sleep tight, and pleasant dreams to you
Here’s a wish and a prayer that every dream comes true
And now ’til we meet again
Adios, Au Revoir, Auf Wiedersehn
GOOD NIGHT!” Link
The music lifted the energy of the entire space. In YouTube comments for the TV show close, lots of warm memories: “I’m 54 now, and it brings back memories at my grandparents’ house… You truly miss the loved ones that are now gone. Simpler times.”
Echoes of Joy
The Stanley ghosts give no indication of being trapped, they’re celebrating. The energy of their afterlife feels like an endless soirée of light, laughter, and melody. Bubbly. A reminder that enlightenment sometimes comes wrapped in laughter, nostalgia, and the closing notes of a song that lingers.
Coincidentally, another popular song is the theme song from the Lawrence Welk show: Bubbles in the Wine. Link
In the song comments: “This brings back memories of Sunday dinner at Grandma’s in Scotia, then watching this on TV. Sweet times I wish I could return to…”
Postscript: Echoes Across Generations
The responses from people who remember those songs say everything about how deeply music can reach, across time, through families, and beyond the veil.
“The only time my sweet grandma watched TV, at least fifty years ago, was on Sunday night to watch Mr. Lawrence Welk! And I still watch videos of him because it reminds me of her! The song at the end is special to me! Thank you!”
“I almost cried when I heard this. I used to watch this with my mom back in the seventies. I hated it then but now I have come to appreciate it and love it so much for its innocence and wholesomeness. I wish we had this in our society.”
She loved it.
Those comments carry the same heart frequency I felt at the Stanley Hotel, and in memories of watching that same show with my grandmother, love remembered through melody. For some, it’s nostalgia. For others, it’s proof of continuity. For me, it’s both, and a reminder that music is one of the purest bridges between worlds.
Lately, someone has been playing the piano in my dreams.
Playful Proof
My travel companion, a practical skeptic, the kind who prefers facts to phantoms, took all this in stride, until we stopped at an antique store and the car horn blared on its own and the windows stuck for no reason. I didn’t need to say a word. The monkey had found a new back to ride.
“See?” the guides laughed in my head. “We told you we’d make it interesting.”
Ghosts enjoy a good joke on the living. They find skeptics irresistible.
If the Stanley ghosts (and the Weston ghosts) had a message they wanted to deliever, it would be this: There is no death. Celebrate the memories worth reliving – and you can make your home there.
That is the essence of the Afterlife. A space you feed, you nourish, you fertilize with every thought, a space your mind develops – one you grow into. Thoughts matter. Focus matters. Kindness matters. Choose light!
Goodnight!
Conscious Living & Wendy's Coffeehouse 