I've finally had to do this. Start writing down what happens to me when I touch objects or stand too close to people. I feel a wafting, a sense of feeling, almost a tingling of emotion. Bad, good, sad, angry. I've felt it all. It's just that it's always been little things. Feeling people about to change lanes on the freeway and avoiding a collision. Or even maybe the scent of perfume when I held my grandmother's brooch I'd inherited. Always tiny stuff. Until the day I walked into that mansion.

I went on a tour of a supposedly haunted mansion. There's a lot of places like this. I'd been to a few that had claimed it. But this one was different. This one was real. The energies swirled in this place, and every room seemed to have it's own presence.

I walked around listening to the docent as she explained the history of the bedroom we'd walked into. She went on about the family that had lived there in the 1930s. I looked at a portrait on the wall. A black and white photo showed a young girl. The docent pointed out the picture near me, mentioning to everyone it was her bedroom we were standing in.

Then, I moved to another portrait on the wall. It was the picture of a man taken around the 1940s. He had a strong chin, piercing eyes, and a beautiful mouth. He wore a fedora, that came down over his eyes giving him a gangster look. I wondered why he was in the room.

That's when I suddenly felt it. A whooshing that hit my insides and made me double over. Luckily, there was a bench in the center of the room to sit on, and I sat down. The feeling over took me. I bent down, my arms crossing over my stomach.

It was the strongest love I'd ever felt for anyone. So head over heels in love. It was a raging wave of love roaring through me. It made me want to cry. Then it changed to longing. The longing overtook me. I knew I'd never felt this depth of love for anyone before. The feelings could not be mine.

That's when I heard the docent say, "She lost her only love to a murder by local gangsters. His portrait hangs in this room." I looked again at the man's picture, and knew who these feelings were. They were the woman's feelings that ,as a child, had slept in this room. I felt her leave me slowly as I returned to myself. Still shaken, I blinked to see the docent looking at me. "You okay, Miss?"

"Yes", I answered. I knew she wouldn't understand the boundless love I'd just felt. Love that went beyond the grave and never stopped. We think we can't take that love with us, that it would have a boundary. But, this spirit showed me love never dies. It has no boundaries, even after death.