The Night in the Forest: Teutoburg Forest (Part 5)
Knowing in my heart I perhaps would forever live with the regret of not seeing what the spirits wanted to show, after all the employees left, and against my better judgment, I switched off all my lights, parked my car inconspicuously in an obscured spot, and left the car.
I stepped into the freezing snowy night, cursing myself for my insanity, for my stupidity, for whatever it was I was doing. But I felt it, like a magnetic pull back to that spot. I couldn’t ignore it. Apparently, security for historical sites in Germany, at least this one, is not very tight at all. I cut through some bushes, over a barely held together thigh-high barbed wire fence. I was very confident I entered there unseen. Does this mean I did not think I was absolutely bonkers for doing this? Definitely not. I was questioning myself so hard the whole time I did this, wondering what madness possessed me. But it was that strong. It was so strong, it overrode every common sense I had. I was compelled, drawn to it. Prompted by the spirit that something was there for me. I couldn’t ignore it.
The woods felt full, and I felt their presence around me as I navigated the dark trails of muddy soil that cut through the thin blanket of snow. I reached a place and felt prompted to stop. I stood there in the darkness and, quite audibly, gave the invitation once again. For a time, nothing happened. I stood there in the freezing cold. I began to question myself, thinking perhaps, in my desperation for a connection, I had gone awry and misunderstood. I really felt embarrassed, though I was the only one there. I was nearly about to give up, but I felt the impression to wait. So I did.
I feel the need to remind you, reader, that in my invitation, I invited them to express themselves in any way they could. Be that feelings, signs, noise, whatever they could do or desired to do. As I waited, feeling nothing but cold, I felt a deep sadness rest upon me. Like a depression. Then I was consumed by a swirl of emotions. I felt terrified. Like an almost rabid, terrified fear, coupled with paranoia, like I was surrounded by things, people, in the forest. I felt a deep urge to flee, to run, to go home, a deep longing for my family. It’s like all of these combined into a blind panic. I felt I had to run, somewhere, anywhere. Barely restraining myself, I walked quickly, the whole time irrationally feeling as if the forest was alive, like it was inhabited by something I feared, like a hunted animal fleeing its predator. I looked over my shoulders and made my way as quickly as I could down the Germanic Weg to my car. But I made it out of there; I nearly felt as if I could not leave fast enough. I turned on the car and quickly left.
I cursed myself, feeling like such an idiot for going out there. I wondered why I had felt prompted to do that. I felt disappointed; I truly thought something would happen, like I would visually see one of the spirits. I felt confused, as I felt so confident going in there. Why was that feeling suddenly betrayed by such bizarre, strong, negative feelings? I had a lot of time to think about it on my four-hour drive, and ponder and pray I did. Then, after trying to discern this whole, bizarre experience, I felt a strong prompting about two hours into my drive. “The feelings were not your own. You asked them to show you, and they did.”
Then it dawned on me. I was making the mistake of assuming those feelings came from myself. But what better way to express to someone the sheer terror of a moment than by capturing your emotions in a bottle and releasing it into their soul? I felt what they felt in that moment. I wanted to understand them, and they helped me understand. They allowed me to feel their emotions, as if I were them. I could not tell the difference, but that is what made it all the more real for me. Because sure, I felt nervous being out there a bit, but some of the emotions did not make sense. The homesickness, the paranoia, the terror of the forest. I have wandered many a dark forest in my life, and I have never felt like that. The feelings of being trapped; it’s like the emotions were so powerful and overwhelming I couldn’t even process where they were from. But that was them. That was as authentic as it could get outside of some grand vision. I felt as they did. I felt the longing for home, the wondering if I would see my family again, the terror at the pain of death, the desperation to get out, the paranoia of being surrounded by men who wanted to kill you in an unfamiliar land. For a brief moment, I got to experience it. And it was terrifying, yet novel, and I walked away, to some extent understanding better why these spirits were quiet. Why they were so unhappy and unwilling to talk about what they witnessed. They were still stuck in the feelings of that day. They were unhappy with how they died, with how their life was cut short, and many of them were still not over it. I just know there were many of them, and they were not happy, discontent, regretful, and still longed for home. And that it was one of the most fearful, chaotic feelings I have ever experienced. Pure, blind, animalistic fear, coupled with the very human regret and longing. The closest thing I can think to describe is being stuck in a dark hole and someone is closing it shut. You are desperately trying to claw your way out of the hole, screaming in terror, ripping your nails from your hands, but the sinister figure above closes it all the same. And the final slivers of hope you had for life vanish into the darkness.
The terror of the past is not always quiet. In the final installment, I'll share the stunning, real-world validation I found months later that confirmed everything I experienced. Follow the blog for the conclusion of the Teutoburg Forest story.
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