True Ghost Story: Haunted Childhood

By | January 19, 2017

I became aware of spirituality at a very young age. It started way back when I was three years old, and my family moved into a haunted house.

Looking back, I can see very clearly now that that was no accident. I think we were meant to live in that house, simply because it was a perfect training exercise for my spiritual skills. I was too young, and too frightened of the entities in that house to consciously know that I was being prepared for anything, but I can see it in hindsight.

The first supernatural encounter I can remember was when I was approximately seven years old. My brother (who was two and a half years younger than I) and I were in the bedroom we shared. He was looking at a comic book and had his back to me, and I was working with my toy looming set.

Suddenly I saw something out of the corner of my eye, and looked up to see one of my brother’s toy trucks literally hanging in the air, about four feet off the floor. Before I could say anything, the truck was tossed between my brother and I, tumbling onto the floor and coming to rest.

My brother whipped around, surprised, and asked why I had thrown the truck. I was too shocked to speak for a second, but finally I managed to squeak that I hadn’t thrown it. I pointed in the direction of our closet, and said it had come from over there. I felt my eyes widen in proportion to his, and we bolted for the door.

We went screaming to our mother, who was washing dishes in the kitchen, and told her that there was a ghost in our room. She calmed us down and told us that there was no such thing as ghosts.

(My mother told me many, many years later that she did indeed know that the house was haunted. She had sensed it almost from the very day we moved in there. But I can’t blame her for trying to make us believe that ghosts didn’t exist. What mother in her right mind would frighten her children by telling them they were living in a haunted house?)

After the toy truck incident, the paranormal happenings in the house seemed to increase. Or maybe it was just that I was more aware of them after that.

Many different types of phenomena occurred, such as objects disappearing from one place and reappearing in another (although rarely right before our eyes). We heard doors opening and closing and footsteps in the attic (which was impossible, since the only entrance to the attic was a trapdoor in our pantry ceiling, and no one ever went up there).

Probably the most unsettling and frightening occurrence was the frequent feeling of someone in the room watching me, even though no physical body was present. It was so strong that the hair on my arms and the back of my neck would stand straight up and gooseflesh would cover my body.

When these things happened, my only defense as a child was to run like hell! If I felt someone in the room with me when I could plainly see that I was alone, I would leave the room quickly. I sought out the comfort and companionship of my family, and usually the ghosts would leave me alone for awhile. But they always came back, eventually.

I think they knew that I could sense them, perhaps more strongly than the other members of my family. I think that’s why they were drawn to me. They were probably looking to me as a facilitator, someone they could communicate with.

Some people are not developed enough spiritually to be able to sense entities. Some can sense them but are unable to communicate with them, while still others can sense AND communicate with them.

My father never sensed anything strange in the house I grew up in, and we lived there for eighteen years. He never mentioned any strange occurrences to us, and I wonder if he even realized that we were living in a haunted house. Another possibility is that he did sense it, but just dismissed it as nonsense.

In any case, the spirits seemed especially drawn to me, and I didn’t know how to handle that when I was a child. I didn’t have the knowledge I have now, and I was frequently terrified by these strange occurrences.

In addition to the happenings I’ve listed above, there were other things going on that frightened me badly. At night while I was in bed, the covers would sometimes be tugged down slightly, and the air in my bedroom would be extremely cold, almost frigid. It would wake me up, and I would feel someone standing by the side of my bed, looking at me. I would yank the covers up over my head and tremble until I felt the presence go away.

Several times I felt someone sit down on the edge of my bed in the middle of the night. Whenever this happened, I would jump up and flick on the light, but no one was ever there. I would sleep with the light on for the rest of the night (if I slept at all). My name was often whispered loudly, right into my ear, jolting me out of sleep. I would hear footsteps moving through the house at night, even though all family members were in their beds.

These occurrences kept me in a constant state of anxiety. I would often (and sometimes still do, to this day) have dreams about being pursued by invisible entities, and wake up sweating and shaking.

Believe it or not, the entities I’ve been describing were the friendly ones in our house. There were other spirits in residence too, dark spirits. Evil is the only word that comes to mind when I think back to those entities.

Thankfully, they didn’t seem to come into our apartment often. They mostly hung out in the basement and back stairway. But since we entered and exited our apartment by walking past the basement stairs and using the back stairway, these spirits confronted me on a daily basis.

If you’ve never encountered evil in its purest form, thank God you haven’t, and pray you never will. There is no way to accurately describe the terror and revulsion that those entities evoked in me. To say that I was scared of them doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Let me just say that as soon as I entered the back door, walked past the basement stairs, and started up the stairs to our apartment on the second floor, I would be overcome by an intense desire to run. I would feel someone or “something” behind me, a horrible, revolting presence that made me feel like I was in extreme danger. Since our washing machine was in the basement, I often had to go down there, to put in or take out a load of clothes, and I always felt like I was suffocating down there.

The feeling of evil and darkness was so intense, so palpable; it was almost unbearable. And I always felt like the basement door was going to slam shut behind me, trapping me in there. Needless to say, I avoided going down there as often as possible.

I didn’t mention any of these happenings to my mother, simply because I knew she wouldn’t believe me. I knew that she would just tell me that there was no such thing as ghosts again. For a while there, I actually started to wonder if I was crazy. Maybe I was imagining these things. My mother was an adult; she should know if ghosts exist or not. But even though I had these thoughts, I knew that I wasn’t imagining it. It was too real, too strong.

Eventually, all of these happenings were confirmed to me by my mother and my brother, who both experienced much of the same things in that house. I knew for sure then that I hadn’t imagined it.

Once I was an adult and we weren’t living there anymore, my mother told me what she knew about that house. She said that she had realized it was haunted almost from the day we moved in, but since we were already settled in, she didn’t see the point of moving again. She hadn’t sensed any dangerous spirits in our apartment, only the ones in the basement and back stairway, so she didn’t feel that we were in any danger by living in that house.

She said she saw the spirit of a little boy in our apartment, and he seemed to like my bedroom best. She would often see him standing by my bedroom window, looking at her. He seemed kind of sad and lonely, and probably just wanted the companionship of other children.

I actually did see him one night, long before my mother mentioned him to me. I was a teenager at the time, and was sleeping soundly when I heard someone whisper my name loudly. I opened my eyes to see a small blonde-haired boy standing by my closet door, looking at me.

He was wearing Victorian-style clothes, and seemed very sad and lost. I didn’t feel threatened by him at all, although it was a bit creepy seeing him standing there! Mostly I felt sad for him. I could feel his sadness and loneliness and felt like he was reaching out to me; he needed me. Before I could say anything to him, he faded away.

My mother also told me that there was the spirit of a middle-aged man who would sit down on the edge of her bed at night (presumably the same one who would sit on my bed at night). She said she could sense that he wanted to tell her something, something important, but she was never able to decipher what it was.

She also encountered the evil entities in the basement and back stairway. Eventually, my mother began quietly checking into the history of the house, looking for any reasons as to why it might be haunted. She spoke to our elderly next door neighbors, who had lived in the neighborhood for many years, and she also checked with City Hall, but was unable to come up with any explanations.

To our knowledge, no one had ever died in that house, not even a workman who had helped build it. It wasn’t a very old house. It had been built sometime in the 1940’s or 1950’s, along with all of the other houses in the neighborhood.

Before the houses were built, the neighborhood was nothing more than sand pits. All we can surmise is that something might have happened in the sand pits before the houses were built, or perhaps it had something to do with the cemetery located across the street.

In any case, those experiences of my growing up years were the foundation of my ability to see beyond the physical. I wasn’t a person who would only “believe it when I saw it”. I believed it when I FELT it. I learned to trust the subtle signals my body was sending me. I learned to have an open mind where things of the spiritual realm were concerned.

Beginning when I was twenty-two, I had several experiences that ultimately brought me closer to God, and were the beginning of my spiritual journey. Over the next several years, even though I wasn’t always aware of it, God began molding and forming me into someone who could use the talents S/He had given me, to bring more goodness and light into the world. I began sensing other spirits around me, not just those who are earthbound. I began sensing angels and spirits of those who have passed on to the other side.

My paternal grandfather died shortly thereafter, and although he had been ill for about a year, it was still a terrible shock for me. I had had no experience with death until then, besides a few pet gerbils.

During the months following my grandfather’s death, I found myself full of questions about life, why we are here; and about death, and what it’s all about. The concept of death was a terrifying one for me. I wasn’t sure if there was a Heaven, like they taught in church, or if there was just “nothingness”, an extinguishing of consciousness, like my grandmother (an atheist) believed.

The main question I had for God (I at least did believe that there was a God, in some form) was: “Why are we here on earth? Is it just so we can struggle, be miserable and then die a horribly painful death at the end of it? What is the point?”

Asking that question of God (although I didn’t realize it at the time) was the first step of the most amazing spiritual journey for me. When we ask God for answers, S/He will enlighten us. S/He began leading me to the answers, which were in many various forms, everything from books and lyrics in music, to workshops, seminars and vivid dreams and visions. I began growing spiritually, and shedding the fears of my childhood. I began to learn exactly why we are here on earth, and what happens to us after we die.

Almost a year and a half after my grandfather died, I moved out of my parent’s house and rented a small apartment for myself. I was thrilled to be out on my own, and felt very independent.

And then weird things began to happen. When I was standing at the sink washing dishes, I would often feel a warmth spreading along my right side. It felt like a presence was there, offering me comfort and love. At first, since the stove was to my right, I thought I might have left the oven or a stovetop burner on. But the stove was cool. And when I raised my left hand to touch my right arm, the skin felt cool to the touch.

Yet there was a definite feeling of warmth on my arm. I was puzzled, but didn’t give it too much thought at the time. This warmth would appear often, at various times, and although it was a little disconcerting, I didn’t dwell on it too much. I did wonder if I had inadvertently moved into another haunted building, but then dismissed the thought.

Then one night, I felt someone sit down on the edge of my bed. I was half-asleep at the time, and reached behind me to run my hand through the air at the edge of my bed, hoping to not run into a human body. What I felt instead was a patch of very warm air. That brought me completely out of sleep, and I sat up and looked behind me.

There was no one there, but I sensed my grandfather’s presence strongly. I didn’t get frightened by this, I just figured he must have been paying me a visit, checking up on me. But I did sense a sadness from him, like he was weeping. I didn’t know what to make of this, and dismissed it from my mind.

My father died just a few weeks later of a massive heart attack. It was very sudden and unexpected, and shocked the whole family badly.

The day after he died, I was sitting in my grandmother’s kitchen with her and my mother, and I ended up telling them about the “visitations” I had been having for the previous two months, and how I had sensed Grampy in my bedroom that night.

Suddenly my mother was in tears, and my grandmother wore a look of shock on her face. I looked at them and said, “Don’t tell me you’ve felt it too?” They both nodded. My mother told me that she had experienced the same warmth and sense of presence several times, and my grandmother said that she had been sensing various (deceased) members of her family around her.

It was then that the realization of what had really been happening hit me full force. I believe now that we were all being comforted and prepared beforehand for the event of my father’s death. We didn’t realize at the time why we were experiencing these “visitations”, but afterwards, it was obvious. Especially since they stopped after my father’s death.

But my father himself came to me after he died, and in fact still does come to see me now and then. And my mother has told me that he’s come to see her too. It happens quietly, and can almost pass unnoticed if you’re not paying attention. It’s just a subtle sense that someone is there with you, and will often be accompanied by that warm feeling spreading along the side or back of your body. It feels like a big hug from Spirit.

Mediumship, I have learned, is the ability to sense and communicate with spiritual entities. In order to clearly hear Spirit, we must develop our spiritual receptors. This takes discipline, tremendous effort, a burning desire, and loads of practice. I have been working at it for years now, with some success, and some failures. It gets easier the more I develop, and the more knowledge I gain. It is a quest that I will continue, no matter how difficult it may be at times.

My spiritual journey has brought me a very long way so far. And I know that I still have a very long way to go. Life itself is a spiritual journey, whether you consider yourself to be a spiritual person or not. So many of us stumble around blindly in our lives, not sure of where we should be going or what we should be doing. Most of us have survived childhood, gotten jobs/careers, and started families of our own, but are still unsure of what this big mystery called “Life” is all about.

One thing seems certain. There is much more to life than the physical surroundings we are in. There is another dimension, a spiritual side. This spiritual side is as real as the physical side; the laws are just different.

I have also lived in another haunted house for 7+ years. Click here to read that story.

Or learn more about ghosts, spirits and hauntings.

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