I believe I lived at the Glencarin Hotel, because of my dreams.  I remember throwing myself off a cliff as a woman with long brown hair and a curvaceous figure.  I either was pregnant or busty, but my memory was being top heavy.  I believe I died from suicide, but the town people rumor it was murder of Mrs. Robert George Scott.

 

The Scotts’ were the original owners that built the South Right Hotel in Glencarin.  There is a hotel picture of Mrs. Scott that was photographed around 1904 of her holding her baby son and their coachman.  You can barely make them out.  It has been said that Robert had 2 sons.  The story goes that Mrs. Scott was having an affair with the cook.  Robert caught them together and went into a jealous rage and threw his 6 years old son and his wife down the stairs killing them.  The surviving son Fredrick Scott went onto to live with the cook. 

 

I kept seeing a woman in my dreams named Renee.  I dreamt about the renovation of the hotel’s laundry room and being really pissed off.  The current owners said that pipes were completely bent up and turned around and there was locked down security during the remolding of the hotel.  The current owners put in touch with Inspector Store at Mach 1 security.  He was helpful in finding the sir name Scott.

 

I called a Chris at the Dido Valley Graveyard that opened in 1910.  The Old Burying Graveyard then closed.  Chris was able to find the death date of Robert George Scott was October 3, 1918 and he died at 61 years old.  Chris could not tell me the cause of death.  He could not find any information on Mrs. Scott or their young son, who had died around age six.  Chris told me that a Fredrick Scott died at age 43 years old and he was poisoned to death. 

 

Fredrick was born in 1907 and could have been the youngest son of Robert George Scott.  Fredrick could have been the son that survived his childhood and went to live with his mother’s lover.  I believe Fredrick followed in his father’s footsteps and went into the military.  I had always gotten a bad feeling about the cook.  I had felt he set Mrs. Scott up and the cook could have forced himself on Mrs. Scott purposely and committed a crime towards the Scott family.

 

Robert George Scott was a South African Army officer, who was awarded a Victoria Cross for throwing a grenade at the enemy at Morosi’s Mountain.  He blew off his right hand and injured his leg when he was 21 years old.   

 

I believe that Mrs. Scott really loved Robert and her family.  I believe she took her own life by jumping off a near by cliff.  I have dreamt of this reoccurring event from the past.  I have a fear of heights in this lifetime.  I had asked Chris, if they bury those who died of suicide and he said, “Yes.”

 

There was a Christian Aistrup, who had 2 daughters, Eve and Joan.  He was married to an Irene, who died on April 19, 1941.  I said Renee and it could have been Irene, so I am 1 letter off.  Christian is buried at Dido Valley and died on December 9, 1950, but nothing is in the books on Irene.  Eve is still alive and living in seclusion.  Eve’s husband was knighted and she became ‘Lady Westlake.’  Joan married and lived and died in Zimbabwe.

 

I believe, after Irene’s mystery death, that Christian remarried a woman named Eleanor.  I did say that there was a woman with double Es in her name.  Aistrup is a Dutch name and Irene and/or Eleanor could have been a Dutch settler and buried in their home country. 

 

The Aistrup family owned the Glencarin hotel in 1941.  The Flying Dutchman was a ghost ship that was seen from their beach and was seen by approximately 10 people.  It was described in accurate details of the ghost ship sailing into thin air.  The Flying Dutchman was also seen entering Table Bay, South Africa by 4 people in 1942. 

 

I truly believe when someone commits suicide that they are forgotten.  Suicide carries shame on the family and friends and it is difficult to celebrate someone’s life from a self inflicted homicide.  The normal mind can not comprehend murder or suicide, so things are swept under the carpet.  A haunting is a forgotten soul creating a presence and I relate it to a ‘Time Energy of Gas.’