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.