In January of this year, 2004 the following item was put up for sale on ebay the bidding was frenzied. Is it really haunted
or a ploy to sell an item? This is taken from the original description by the first seller, nw-net-trade.
All of the events that I am about to set forth in this listing are accurate and may be verified by the winning bidder with
the copies of hospital records and sworn affidavits that I am including as part of the sale of the cabinet. The winning bidder
will also be able to contact most of the persons mentioned herein for the purposes of verification, corroboration, and to
gain insight into the full scope of whatever it is.
During September of 2001, I attended an estate sale in Portland Oregon. The items liquidated at this sale were from the
estate of a woman who had passed away at the age of 103. A grand-daughter of the woman told me that her grandmother had been
born in Poland where she grew up, married, raised a family, and lived until she was sent to a nazi concentration camp during
World War II.
She was the only member of her family who survived the camp. Her parents, brothers, a sister, husband, and two sons and
a daughter were all killed. She survived the camp by escaping with some other prisoners and somehow making her way to Spain
where she lived until the end of the war.
I was told that she acquired the small wine cabinet listed here in Spain and it was one of only three items that she brought
with her when she immigrated to the United States. The other two items were a steamer trunk, and a sewing box.
I purchased the wine cabinet, along with the sewing box and some other furniture at the estate sale. After the sale,
I was approached by the woman's granddaughter who said, I see you got the dibbuk box. She was referring to the wine cabinet.
I asked her what a dibbuk box was, and she told me that when she was growing up, her grandmother always kept the wine cabinet
in her sewing room. It was always shut, and set in a place that was out of reach. The grandmother always called it the dibbuk
box. When the girl asked her grandmother what was inside, her grandmother spit three times through her fingers said, A dibbuk,
and keselim. The grandmother went on to tell the girl that the wine cabinet was never, ever, to be opened.
granddaughter told me that her grandmother had asked that the box be buried with her. However, as such a request was contrary
to the rules of an orthodox Jewish burial, the grandmothers request had not been honored.
I asked the granddaughter
what a dibbuk, and keselim were, but she did not know. I asked if she would like to open it with me. She did not want to open
it, as her grandmother had been very emphatic and serious when she instructed her not to do so, and, regardless of the reason,
she wanted to honor her grandmothers request.
I finally ended up offering to let her keep what seemed to me to
be a sentimental keepsake. At that point, she was very insistent and said, No, no you bought it!
I explained that
I didnt want my money back, and that it would make me feel better to do what I thought was an act of kindness. She then became
somewhat upset. Looking back now, the way she became upset was just plain odd. She raised her voice to me and said, You bought
it! You made a deal!
When I tried to speak, she yelled, We don't want it! She began to cry, asked me to leave,
and quickly walked away. I wrote the whole episode off to the stress and grief she must have been experiencing. I took my
purchases and politely left.
At the time when I bought the cabinet, I owned a small furniture refinishing business.
I took the cabinet to my store, and put it in my basement workshop where I intended to refinish it and give it as a gift to
my Mother. I didn't think anything more about it. I opened my shop for the day and went to run some errands leaving the young
woman who did sales for me in charge.
After about a half-hour, I got a call on my cell phone. The call was from
my salesperson. She was absolutely hysterical and screaming that someone was in my workshop breaking glass and swearing. Furthermore,
the intruder had locked the iron security gates and the emergency exit and she couldn't get out. As I told her to call the
police, my cell phone battery went dead.
I hit speeds of 100 mph getting back to the shop. When I arrived, I found
the gates locked. I went inside and found my employee on the floor in a corner of my office sobbing hysterically. I ran to
the basement and went downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs, I was hit by an overpowering unmistakable odor of cat urine
(there had never been any animals kept or found in my shop). The lights didn't work. As I investigated, I found that the reason
the lights didn't work also explained the sounds of glass breaking. All of the light bulbs in the basement were broken. All
nine incandescent bulbs had been broken in their sockets, and 10 four-foot fluorescent tubes were lying shattered on the floor.
I did not find an intruder, however. I should also add that there was only one entrance to the basement. It would have been
impossible for anyone to leave without meeting me head-on. I went back up to speak with my salesperson, but she had left.
She never returned to work (after having been with me for two years). She refuses to discuss the incident to this
day. I never thought of relating the events of that day to anything having to do with the cabinet