- Joined
- Nov 13, 2018
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- Age
- 25
I've shared this story a few times across the internet but never on a forum and never in its fullness. Of course, it may be dfficult to do since I don't fully understand it myself and it has been going on since before I was even born. I bring it now to a forum in hopes that I do get to reach an acceptable answer and course of action. Besides, it's getting as bad as it was when I was just a little kid before I had the blessing and even though I'm well equipped to handle it now, I'm not sure why this is happening.
I have been collecting pieces since I was around the age of twelve when I started to realize that there really was something a little bit more than weird about what was going on. This is what I have gathered through family testimonies, my own experiences, and the experiences of friends that I've had around me that have had their realities altered by the strange occurrences. I'm sorry it's extremely long, but perhaps my life centers a little too strongly around it.
••~~~~~~~••
I'll start off with a short synopsis of my family.
On my dad's side of the family, both my grandfather and my aunt have told me that that were capable of astral projection. In fact, one night while my aunt slept in her room next to mine, she apparently watched me and even told me the next morning what I had been doing. My father himself has grown up with several hauntings and once he finally accepted my own gift I heard many of these from him.
My mother's family, too, has quite the rich history. My grandmother is an energy healer and shaman who has told stories of encountering skinwalkers when she was young. My mom heself has had many encounters when she was young and is much more open minded about it.
The only mental health issues in my family are depression from my father's side and OCD and ADHD from my mother's side.
••~~~~~~~••
Before I was born my mother said the house she was in was extremely haunted. Various appliances would turn themselves on, things would throw themselves off walls... you know. The classic poltergeist-type haunting. I was born in my grandmother's home, her as the midwife, and it was done naturally.
Apparently when one of my aunts held me for the first time, she and my father some variation of this conversation:
Her: You know how some people have souls older than others?
Him: Yes. Jesus has the oldest soul. Why?
Her: Because when I look into this child's eyes, I can feel she has a very old soul.
Ever since I was very young I've had the "knowing", as Debi calls it. It started out as more of an empathic manner... or perhaps telepathic? But no one could ever surprise me. I'd just somehow know what they were planning or how they felt or what they wanted when, but that was just around people. When it came to spirits it was a different level of connection.
One of my first memories was of when I was only three, and this is a story I've actually talked to my mother about and she, too, remembers it vividly. My sister and I shared a birthday growing up since they were so close as it was, but she had just turned one and I had turned three. I was obsessed with dinosaurs even then and of all the nick-knacks we got, I loved this little wind-up T-rex that my sister got. I, naturally, decided to play with it. Also a fan of slinkies, little kid me thought I could get the T-rex to walk down the stairs like my dad got slinkies to and when it would inevitably fall over on the first step down into the basement, I decided to "help" it down and throw it all the way to the bottom where it bounced off the wall and into the basement.
Of course I went to retrieve it, but I remember there was something that made me slow down as I got to the bottom of the stairs and I could feel something powerful and not right inside. Now, the cellars when and where I grew up were just a small boiler room and sort-of storage area that could hardly fit much more than winter gear and a bit of food storage and they were hardly ever finished so of course there were wooden beams where a wall would be over the boiler room... and when I looked behind them I saw a man staring back at me. He was very tall, but wherever the light from the doorway came over him his body seemed to not exist... and he was looking calmly down at me. Clear as day I could see him just as you and I exist. I remember coming upstairs without looking for the toy, telling my mother there was a man in the basement.
That wasn't the last thing I remember about early childhood either... nor that particular man.
When I was around the age of five, living in a different house due to the nomadic tendencies hardwired into our family, I started to have repetitive nightmares where I would find myself in a void black labyrinth. Every so often a mirror would break the consistency of the black and through it I could see that I was older. I wasn't a little kid in the reflections. Yet I could never look long enough because I would hear claws on hard ground and see a giant, white, diseased, and wolfish being coming at me. At first it was a large beast with fingers rather than paws and red eyes, but each time I had the dream it would look more human, more diseased, eyes filled with cataracts. Sick. It would chase me through the labyrinth... and then I'd wake up and sit up in bed, but it was like the nightmare was following me out.
And I don't mean sleep paralysis. It felt like I was drowning in evil and I couldn't speak from fright, but I was able to move, hide under my blankets, press myself against the headboard... but there was always a tall man in the corner of the room when I woke up. He'd tell me that no matter how much I ran, no matter where I'd go, he would find me. That I was his.
Then I'd get sick. For days after I wouldn't be able to stand. I'd get fevers and chills and didn't have the strength to stand. I'd start getting better, have the nightmare again, hear him promising me those things, then get sick all over again.
It got so bad that my mom called someone over to give me a blessing. After that the nightmares stopped, I didn't see that man again for years, and I stopped getting sick.
My sister quickly showed that she had a knack for it as well. We'd both sit and listen to stories that an old lady told in this herbal shop my grandmother owned, but when we told others about her we were reprimanded as liars and told that the lady didn't exist. My sister still remembers her as well.
The oldest of my two brothers, younger than my sister and I, seems to have inherited my grandmother's skill over energy healing- something I myself do on occasion- and my youngest brother is a strong empath. Unfortunately, my sister is scared of her gift and has fought hard to break it and give excuses to let herself live a normal life.
I won't give the details of every encounter we've had in our lives because we've had far too many. From scrubbing black mold from a dry wall with bleach and having it reappear the next day, to my mom's foot being grabbed by an entity after my dad tried to chase it down thinking it was an intruder, we've had a pretty eventful life. Instead, I'm going to focus on what I cannot understand. The man.
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