Back in the early 2000’s, my famously intuitive friend—let’s call her Dee—and I visited the haunted Glen Tavern Inn in Santa Paula, CA, for her emerging paranormal show. Dee had invited me to be a guest medium, and of course, I jumped at the chance. It sounded like the perfect opportunity for some fun.
The inn itself has since been featured on numerous paranormal TV shows, especially highlighting rooms 307 and 308. During Prohibition, the third floor was used as a speakeasy and gambling parlor, with claims of extreme violence, including shootings, murder, and even the decapitation of a prostitute.
I’ve encountered "ghosts" many times over the past 50+ years, including one particularly active older woman in a house my sister and I rented. From those experiences, I noticed a pattern: ghost encounters feel no different than a haunted mansion at Disneyland or a carnival attraction. The "actors" may try to spook you from a distance, but they never cause real harm.
Paranormal shows, though, thrive on fear. They use eerie music, chilling historical tales, and a sense of danger to keep viewers hooked. But the truth I’ve embraced since that experience is this: we create our own reality—always. I walk through mine with joy and anticipation, knowing that fear is just an option, like a toy on a playground. And I don’t have to choose it.
Before our visit, I made it clear to Dee that I wouldn’t fake my experience for ratings, and she was all for that. In fact, she wanted to use my authenticity as a selling point for the episode.
The inn was small and charming, with long rustic hallways and a quaint restaurant for guests. The manager, excited to have us there, showed us an album filled with photos of supposed ghostly figures. He explained that the third floor lights were off because no one was staying in those rooms. Our cameraman was fine with that setup.
One thing Dee insists on for her shows is going in blind—no prior knowledge of the history that might influence her impressions. She asked me to do the same, so apart from the photo album the manager shared, Dee and I were blank slates. We knew the inn had three stories and no elevator, but none of its torrid history.
As we walked through the halls, Dee and I had two very different experiences. Dee was solemn, reporting on dark and light energies, while I felt... nothing. We hoped the cameras would capture a shadow or two, but by the time we reached the third floor, there wasn’t much to report.
The third floor was pitch dark, just as the manager had told us. Looking down the long hallway where we were supposed to search for ghosts, I felt a flicker of fear. But when I checked in with that energy, I found only emptiness. So, I had no problem walking into the darkness. Dee, on the other hand, began reporting evil energies and ramped up her dramatic flair.
I’ll admit it—I wanted to feel this supposed evil too. But as we approached rooms 307 and 308, I felt... nothing. Dee stopped, saying she could hear a woman screaming, and described the violence that had occurred there. Meanwhile, I was getting crickets. Down this darkened hallway, perfectly set up for a scare, I opened myself wide to all the energies around me. I picked up on our cameraman’s curiosity, the sound man’s terror, and our photographer’s nausea, but that was it.
Dee was focused, determined to do her job, but for me, even the hairs on the back of my neck stayed calm. Was I broken? Or was this the beginning of a deeper understanding of my reality?
Up until that moment, I knew we created our reality and that fear was a choice. But I hadn’t yet considered that there were no energies outside of my influence—not even paranormal forces. In that dark hallway, I had an epiphany that changed how I interact with the world ever since.
It was like walking through a carnival haunted house, where everything is fabricated. The people around me were like cardboard cutouts that I controlled, shaping how they looked and acted. I felt detached from their drama and emotions, like I was directing a play. My actors were scared, but I wasn’t. They felt cold, but I didn’t. They sensed "evil energies," but I couldn’t, because reality is make-believe.
God(s), nonphysical entities, time, emotions, memories, beliefs, and more - they were all my actors. They were created by me, for me.
This entire realization hit me in a split second. It felt more like remembering something I had always known. And just as quickly as the epiphany arrived, it anchored in me.
I knew this as clearly as I know my own name: we are God, Source, All-That-Is. But not the God we have preconceived notions of. Every moment of this existence is a journey of expansion. And nothing that brings that expansion can make you less of a God. But it sure as hell makes you more.
After my epiphany, we wrapped up the visit with no dramatic ghost encounters, but I left with something far more valuable: a deeper understanding of how we create our reality. The haunting I had been looking for wasn’t in the dark hallways—it was in the stories we choose to believe. And I chose to walk away from the belief that anything outside of me could ever be bigger than me or beyond my creation.
💋KMFC
The second floor hallway of the Glen Tavern Inn.
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