Haunted House.

8/05/2011 haunted house , hooded-figures , weird nosies 1 Comments

Haunted houses and spirits in general have always fascinated me.

I wonder why a spirit would haunt a house. I mean, when we die why wouldn’t we want to move on to the next plane of existence, it’s supposed to be awesome, right?

The first book I had written two years ago is about a teenage girl who attempts suicide, but instead of dying she meets her guide and crosses over with him. He tells her heaven is not one place and uses the analogy that heaven is like our body and the trillions of cells on our body are like the different realms spirits can go to. It’s mind boggling, and the human mind can’t wrap itself around it. So he takes her to some of the different realms, and then eventually back to earth, to a house that’s being haunted. She asks him why this spirit won’t cross over, and he tells her the spirit is attached to the house. But not only that, the spirit is stubborn, selfish, and afraid. I remembered wondering as I wrote that chapter if that was true.

Is that one of the main reasons spirits haunt a house?

When I was very young, we lived in a nice house that had a huge basement where my parents would hold their UFO meetings.

This house was haunted.

I don’t remember any paranormal activity except I didn’t like being in the basement by myself, and still to this day, I have bad dreams about a basement.

I often wonder if something had happened to me, but I was too young to remember. However, the subconscious knows and stirs up one of those dreams from time to time.

I don’t know, but I was told some weird shit had happened in that basement.

For example, a friend of my parents was staying over one night. He went to the basement to crash for the night, and a while later he was bounding up the stairs, the color drained from his face. He told my parents that the covers levitated off of him, and then refused to go back into the basement.

Noises.

Mom had told me that sometimes in that house it sounded like somebody was taking a tin cup and running it along metal bars (click, click, click, click). She also told me that one night she had heard a couple who was arguing about their 17-year-old son, and they were slamming cupboards in the kitchen. She said that they got so loud she had to scream for them to shut up.

I don’t know if that’s true, but that's what she told me.

There’s a story my sister and I share that has to do with that house. Memory wise, the event is fuzzy to me because I was probably 3 or 4 years old at the time, but since she’s 4 years older than I, she’s much clearer on it. Anyway, she was in her room trying to go to sleep when she saw something that was dark float outside her room, down the hall. She got up to tell my dad, and he told her she was dreaming and to go back to bed. So she did, and a while later I left my room and crawled into bed with her. I vaguely remember seeing a dark-hooded figure go by my room. Now I don’t know if I actually saw a dark-hooded figure because sometimes your memory can play tricks on you, but I do remember crawling in bed with her, and telling her that I saw a witch. And she remembers it too.

Ya know, for years I had a scary dream about a hooded figure standing at the mouth of a deep dark forest. In the dream, it’s nighttime, and I'm standing in a meadow. The figure beckons me to come to it, but I’m too scared and wake up.

I wonder now if that dream had anything to do with what my sister and I had seen that night. I wish I could remember and say for sure that yup, I did see a dark-hooded figure outside my room, but honestly I can’t. And it’s so easy to slip into Peter Pan land because it’s much more appealing than the mundaneness of every day life.

But I don’t want to live in fantasy land. I want to know the truth, the facts.

Honestly though, I can say for sure about some of the other things that had happened to me throughout my life did happen. I’ll bring it up in another post since this one is getting too long.

Anyway, I wonder about haunted houses and would actually love to investigate them.

Maybe someday I will and write a book about it.

Maybe someday I can find the answers that I seek and have factual evidence to share with the world.

Maybe someday I’ll be able to share my light with the world like I want to and peel back each layer of my soul so people know they’re not alone because this is what I went through, and on some level, we all go through.

Maybe someday I’ll be able to make a difference instead of slipping through the cracks and leaving this world as if I never had even existed here.

Just maybe. . . .