Crazy-ass family

You just can't make this stuff up

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Ghost Story Tuesday

Once again, The Ghost Whisperer has influenced my entry this week. I was going to talk about where religion fits into all this, but a scene in Friday's show brought back a memory from my childhood that I've tried very hard to repress, and I thought I'd write about it. I'll write about spirituality next week, 'k?
Remember when I talked about tricksters? Those entities that hang around and feed on our fear and get pleasure out of freaking us out? Children, being more open and thus having less control over these types of things, are much more prone to have experiences with these unpleasant (but usually harmless except for scaring the crap out of us) beings. When I was a kid, I had most of my experiences with those who have passed on when I was in bed. I still do, actually; it's when I'm most relaxed and able to open up.
My sister and I shared a room when we were kids, and together experienced many incidents involving the dead: voices talking and whispering in our darkened bedroom, invisible fingers tickling us and bouncing on our beds...etc. I would wake up in the middle of the night and hear the tv on downstairs, then go down to see who was up only to find myself in an empty, darkened living room. Very often, I would wake and see people in my room...sometimes thier faces would be on the wall beside my bed, and sometimes they would be standing in the corner or by the door. Every time this happened, I would close my eyes, take a deep breath, and open my eyes to find that they'd gone. And I would convince myself that they had never really been there.
Often, I would open my eyes in the morning and find someone leaning over my bed, their face directly above mine. Sometimes their features were blurry or unclear, and sometimes it was as if I could reach out and touch them, they were so perfectly clear to me. Sometimes, they'd be peering into my eyes without expression. Just...staring. More often, they'd be making faces, stretching their features unnaturally. Sometimes, these faces were attached to a body, standing beside my bed. Sometimes, it would just a head...or a face. I started waking up every morning with a stomachache, terrified to open my eyes. The fear was paralyzing! The only consolation was that every time I closed my eyes and reopened them, the entities would disappear.
One morning as I awoke, I knew there was something there. I could feel the heat of it on my face before I opened my eyes, and a ball of hot, intense fear gathered in my gut. I consoled myself: it was morning and I could tell the sun was shining into my room. How bad could it be? Also, all I would have to do it close my eyes if I saw something, right? My confidence at least partially restored, I opened my eyes.
Directly above my face was a head, floating. The face contorted hideously and consistently, rolling it's eyes and stretching it's mouth into a grimace. It did not look at me. It's features moved and writhed non-stop. I remember being transfixed on that face, not breathing, not thinking, just being frozen there for what felt like forever. Then I gasped and shut my eyes. I could feel tears roll down into my ears. I reopened my eyes.
Still there. It was still there.
You know those dreams where you're being chased and it feels like you're running through quicksand? You keep looking back as your pursuer gains on you and try breathlessly to scream, but only a weak wail escapes your throat? That morning, I screamed for my mother, and only a whisper of sound came out of my throat. I tried again with the same results. I remember gathering everything I had in me...all the fear, the desperation, and the strength, and finally screaming as loud as I could.
As soon as my Mom came in the room, it was gone. Of course, she reassured me it was just a dream; that could never really happen. And maybe that day was the very beginning of me learning to shut my gift out. Because I tried very, very hard to believe her. I wanted what she said to be true, and I worked on my faith in that.
Honestly, I still try very hard not to think of that morning. I swear, though, if I meet that entity in the afterlife (though that being is hopefully on a very different level from where I'll be going...), there will be some payback. Can you do that when you die?
Anyway, probably as a result of my decision that it wasn't real, I never woke up to faces above my bed again.
People standing in the corner is a different story altogether.

9 Comments:

At 8:22 PM, Blogger kris said...

It's no wonder to me that you have issues with anxiety. Growing up with scary floating heads waking you up in the morning would induce a bit more than anxiety in most of us.

Hope you get through your therapy quickly, and that it goes very well.

 
At 11:13 PM, Blogger Trista said...

My brother described the same type of experiences with the ghost that lived in the house we did most of our growing up in. A head that would hang above his face or follow him along the walls. I once saw people in the mirrored wall of my parent's bedroom, but I shut those visions out quickly, and now I can't see ghosts at all. Feel them, smell them, yes. See them, no. My brother, though, he saw those faces and heads for years, and even now when he speaks of it he tears up.

None of us told our mother, though, which is too bad. We didn't think she would believe us, but she had her own experiences in that house, she even thinks she knows who it was, and if she had known that it was bothering us, she would have done something about it. Or at least that's what she says now.

 
At 7:01 AM, Blogger Tree said...

Kris,
Hey girl! Yeah, I know it contributed to my issues. I often wonder if the two are connected...not in the way most would think (ie: whether my issues make me so crazy I see things, haha!). I wonder if my brain is just...different? Allowing me to see things others do not, and at the same time having an overexaggerated "fight or flight" response...hense the anxiety. I don't know. Oops maybe I should have saved this for a post...!
Trista,
Thank you so much for sharing that. It's rare I find someone who sees the same things I do! It feels great to know that somebody else went through something similar. I understand your brother tearing up; that's one of the more difficult memories I have. It was simply terrifying...

 
At 10:05 AM, Blogger Lisa said...

I can't imagine how terrifying that would be - to a child or to an adult. That scares me just reading it.

 
At 10:24 AM, Blogger Jennboree said...

I cannot even imagine the fear you felt especially knowing that it was REAL and not a dream. You pretty much have to wait for it to decide to leave, right?

I'm shocked you are as sane as you are now. Is that wear learning to block when you can comes in?

New question: You've mentioned different levels. What or how does an entity end up in one level or another? Is there the level you are seeing and then others you don't? Is everyone probably at the visibility level at some point or only a few?

Why do you think tricksters are what they are? Were they perhaps unhappy, discontent or angry when alive?

Okay, that was obviously more than one question. :)

 
At 10:35 AM, Anonymous Stacy said...

Tree, love your site. Ghost Story Tuesday scares me and delights me. But today's post really got to me because it brought back all of my own memories of 'tricksters' in my childhood. I swear, my parents thought I had an overactive imagination and I thought I was crazy. I used to have the same thing happen to me - and after 20 years still remember it all vividly. I would wake up laughing hysterically because people were tickling me (in particular a bright pink gloved hand); or feel people sitting on me at night, trying to squish me; or sitting in the room talking; coming to the door of my room and calling my name; standing in the corner watching - all of it. It creeps me out just thinking of it now. Luckily, I've outgrown it - but I still feel overly sensitive at night when I'm alone in the bedroom. Corners, closets, and cracked doorways still keep me awake at night. Reading your blog helps me realize that I wasn't crazy, and there are things out there that we can't always understand. Oh, and I too suffer from severe anxiety (wonder if my those trickster fears have anything to do with it...). Keep writing! :)

 
At 2:36 AM, Anonymous dawn said...

Hi, I haven't visited you for awhile, thought I would drop by. Ghost Story Tuesday is my favorite day. It is a totally original and interesting topic which holds my interest. How long have you been blogging?

 
At 3:35 PM, Anonymous alice said...

Okay, I just got out from under the bed so I could comment.

First of all, sweet Moses, that's scary. Second, I was just wondering: did you ever respond to these apparitions--ask them why they were there, or tell them to go away? I would think you would feel, in addition to terrified, tremendously pissed off and violated that these things were in your space, scaring you.

Or is a direct response a bad idea?

 
At 3:44 PM, Blogger Diana said...

Holy hell, I thought I was the only one who had people standing in her room/corners whispering. Sometimes it would be a group and they would huddle in the corner and look at me and whisper at eachother. Sometimes it was one person just standing there, staring. People calling out to me, all this in a house we lived in for ten years. It scared the bejezuz out of me...

 

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