Recent events have led me to write this post. I have always been a dreamer, since I was a child I would have dreams that essentially came true. My first one was when I was in the second grade. Thank goodness for it because I passed the pop quiz with flying colors, as I got older the dreams slowed down. When I was in my twenties I had a reoccurring dream of someone having a motor cycle accident. Every night for three or four months, it was blurry, I could not make out the rider, the stores, or anything for that matter, all I could see was a blue small car pull out of a parking lot and hit him. The dream ended when I had ran into an old friend at the store.
He proceeded to tell me all about the accident I had in my dreams.
Last night I had some very vivid dreams, something I haven’t had in months. My dreams have not only been scarce but mostly fictional. I believe them to be past lives. I revisited history, many past lives that gave me clarity on who I really am.
My question to you is, do you have dreams that show you either the past or future?
I sat up awake, the roaring thunder leaving me restless. I just watched the flashes of light dancing on the wall just above my brother’s sleeping head. What I saw in one of the flashes did give me quiet a start. I remember him so vividly, a tall man, dressed in a white T shirt that was torn to ribbons soaked in blood, blue jeans that seemed to be frosted with various contractor items, such as paint and sheet rock dust, black work boots, his hair was dark, a total mess and his stare was piercing. His eyes burned a hole directly into my soul, he terrified me and his gaze looked down at the sleeping toddler with such malice that I quickly ripped the boy from his bed and pulled him into mine. I stared back at the apparition my own gaze holding just as much malice, I threatened it, verbally yelling at him, that dare he harm a hair on his head, I would kill myself and give him an afterlife he would forever regret. The apparition smiled before fading into the wall, little did I know my threat was what would do me in.
I became the center of his attacks, invisible hands trying to push me down the steps, doors slamming closed in my face, noises following me throughout the apartment. He was calling me on my bluff. I began to practice Wicca, finding restitution in the protection spells and the newly found knowledge of the paranormal. My circle of friends began to differ from the ghetto thugs that I once admired to psychics and other magical beings. Two of my friends, Jan and Dave (yes the names are changed) were of the psychic persona. Jan was a medium, she took spirits into her body enabling them to speak. She reminded me of Sybil, with her multiple personalities, I never knew who or what I was speaking to. All and all she was my best friend, crazy or not. She entered my house once and only once, the spirit that plagued me quickly tried to take over. She told me he was pure evil, he was not the man that he posed as but something much more sinister. David, never entered the house, he merely stood out front realizing that the entity was a demon, or so he told me.
As time went on more and more strange happenings became more daily routine. I held onto the banister tightly any time I neared stairs, my little brother slept in bed with me out of fear of something happening to him and I pretty much became used to his antics by now.
It was a summer day about ninety degrees out and I decided to take a dip in the pool. As I swam around alone I began to see things. I would dive down and see a dark figure floating above me, when I brought my head back above water the figure was gone. I tested this theory a few times, forcing my eyes to remain open as I brought them both above and below the water, the figure continued to vanish each time I was above the water line. I decided I didn’t want to be swimming with a vanishing dead body and got out of the pool. I laid in the sun for some time drying off before going up stairs to change. A few of my friends came over later that day and we proceeded into the basement of the house. I had gotten permission to use the basement from the owners son because there was a pool table down there. He had left the door unlocked for me. After a few rounds we all decided to head back upstairs. We stood in the garage smoking and just talking about teenage garbage, you know, this one’s a slut and that one got the snot kicked out of her and the other one has it coming, teenage garble, when we began to hear foot steps coming from the basement. We looked at each other in awe, all were accounted for and there was no other way into the basement, not even through the house. I decided to be the tough one.
“Hey knock it off would ya, your scaring the babies around here.” I said laughing.
His reply, a low growl, GET OUT! Before slamming the door so hard the frame nearly came off. Well even though the garage door was open, we still needed to pass by the basement door to get out, we decided that was a bad idea. The lot of us tore through the back yard as if someone had set us on fire, as they tried to jump over the fence as I proceeded straight through it. It was agreed from then on that we would never visit the basement again.
A few weeks later I was in the owners portion of the home playing Nintendo. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I listened to his foot steps walk up behind me, I heard them stop directly at my back, I gave him a warning shout, telling him I wasn’t in the mood. I was answered with a piercing shriek and a smack to the back of my head. I saw stars as I regained my balance, I stood still a little wobbly and cursed at the nothingness that stood before me. I again was answered with more violence, a sharp pain to my gut left me gasping for air. I staggered out of the house and went straight to Jan’s house. I called my father begging him to pick me up. I had had enough.
My father moved me out of the house, I fought desperately to have him take my brother as well but my mother would not give up custody, they moved out shortly after but no one said a word about the thing that lived with in…
I decided to stray for the real over to the fantasy for a spell. If you haven’t heard of what this is, well it’s a very convincing way to invent a ghost.
Ever heard the term, with smoke and mirrors, well this is why. Through the proper use of lights, glass and mirrors you can create a very convincing spectral image. For example
you can see in this video a very real looking ghost that play’s the piano, quiet convincing correct? You can not see any mirrors, glass or lights to project the image. If you read the comment section you can see that there was a piece of poster board just out of view. The image is projected onto that board which reflect off the screen and into the glass which is right in front of the window. The glass has no border so it blends quiet nicely into the background making you think it’s not there.
This clearly shows how the ghost is executed.
Pretty convincing huh? I am currently in the process of generating my own ghost for a haunted house that I do. I can only hope I can pull it off in time!
Hope you enjoyed and now you know how to spot a fake!
Even though I do not agree with the title the video is hysterical! Hey even the hoaxes can be pretty funny!
While this blog so far has been geared toward ghost stories and other phenomena we understand that not all ghosts are welcome in our homes.
One of my future stories will tell you of a ghost that I lived with, a rather nasty being that I gladly would have been rid of.
I am in touch with a number of paranormal researchers on Long Island that may be able to help rid a home of a nasty spirit or demon that may be plaguing you. If you have such fears, I am more than willing to lead you in the right direction of getting help and getting you in touch with people that believe you! We will take every story under consideration and help in any manor possible!
George was kind of like Casper the friendly ghost. He flushed toilets in the middle of the night, opened cabinets and left us wondering who was walking around in the middle of the night when no one was home. He even made sure some of us were awake when we over slept, but I am jumping the gun here aren’t I? Let me fill in the time between Heampstead and now.
After living on Washington Street I had thought I had seen it all. The Victorian woman that I played with on a daily basis, the dark man that plagued my dreams for a few years and the few shapely mists that floated around the apartment building, but as I had said, I have accrued many stories in my life.
After the murder happened it really sank into my father’s head that Hempstead was no place to live. So he found us a nice ranch style house in Hicksville. The house was unique, when you first walked in you were in a large living room, there was a narrow path way that had four little steps that lead to the upstairs bedrooms midway through on the right, straight ahead was the kitchen and to the left was the dining room. The second floor held three bedrooms, to the far right was my parents, center was my brothers, he was only two when we moved in and to the far left was my room. The only other room on that floor was the bathroom, that was right next to mine. Pretty much sounds like a normal house right, well lets walk down to the basement, a fully finished room with a large stone fireplace on the right from the stairway, to the left was a built in bar and a very small bathroom that only housed a sink and a toilet, just off the the stairway was a door, when I opened it I found yet another stairwell, two basements in this house. When you descended there was one large room and two smaller rooms on the right, one housed the boiler, the other was empty. Now that you have the lay out of the house you will better understand just what happens and where every one was.