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Haunted House and Astral Projection

I've long believed we live in a world within a world.

By Tiffany HarrisPublished 6 years ago 7 min read
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Above picture downloaded from Pixabay

I've long believed we live in a world, within a world. I believe there are things we cannot explain. I believe, as "silly" as this may sound, that there are angels and demons, but I also believe in spirits trapped here on Earth. Why? I'm glad you're curious. I believe this because I've seen or felt them at some point in my life.

The earliest paranormal experience I've had was around age three. I don't know if you've ever heard of people having out-of-body experiences, but they're real; I've had them. I remember like it was yesterday. My mother and I had been out and about in Colorado Springs, my place of birth. With four older brothers at school, a dad at work, she and I had a lot of time to spend together. Our mommy-daughter day out exhausted me, and I fell asleep in the backseat of our family van. Somewhere along the drive, I woke from my sleep, climbed out of my seat, and sat in the passenger seat beside my mother. She continued on her way, saying nothing to me. Before long, we arrived home. Mom shut the van off, adjusted her rearview mirror, and called back to me, "Tiffany, it's time to wake up. We're home now." I was confused. Did she not see me sitting beside her? I too, looked toward the back of the van, to see my resting body, strapped in my car seat. Suddenly, I was waking to the feeling of my mother's touch. Sounds crazy, right? Well, that wasn't the only time.

The next out-of-body experience I had was at age four. I fell asleep on the sofa, while my brothers played around the house. Three went to play video games, while brother number four secluded himself elsewhere. I found myself standing in the living room looking around. I didn't see my sleeping body on the couch, so I thought I was awake. I made my way to the room where the boys played games. I sat on the bed beside the youngest brother, as the television went whack. The white noise on the screen couldn't be cleared. Just then, something weird happened. A voice spoke from the television. It called to my eldest brother, "I'm calling you." We ran out of the room, the boys and I, to tell our mother. It was there, in the living room, I found my sleeping body on the couch. To this day, my three brothers will tell you I wasn't there, but I was.

I grew up in a religious family. My father was brought up Baptist, Christian, and my mother, of the Holiness denomination. It's a bit odd that Christians have a daughter with a gift not associated with Christianity. All my life I've heard gifts like mine were "evil." If so, why do I have them? I'm not perfect, but I wouldn't consider myself "evil." In 1994, my family moved to West Virginia. After a brief period of personal and financial struggles, we found ourselves a stable home; 15 Maple Terrace. We fell into a "normal" family routine. Monday through Friday we headed off to school, Saturday us kids had chores, and Sunday the family attended church. We found a church home in the nearby city of Cross Lanes. There we learned about God, the devil, Jesus, and redemption. My eldest brother was introduced to something else. A close friend of his, another member of our church, introduced him to different religious beliefs, and even books some would call "evil." Among them, one book which taught how to conjure spirits. He kept his interests secret for a long time. One day, as mom cooked dinner, she asked me to find him. His bedroom was one of two in the attic. I made my way up where I knocked on his door. "Come in," he said. I entered to see his room in perfect order, but something was different. Resting in the center on the floor was an altar of sorts. Blue, glass stones were strategically placed at the four corners of the altar. Thinking nothing of it, I made my way to the center. Also, there was a book. I picked it up to see what it was. "What's this," I asked.

"A book of spirits," he replied. "They're demons, you can call them to do things for you." I flipped through the pages, stopping on one. I started to read aloud from the page when my brother stopped me. "STOP! If you call him and don't have a mission for him, he'll kill you." I put the book down. I didn't understand why my brother had these things. I was confused. My brother picked the book up, and began reading from the page I started. Feeling scared, I ran from the room. That's when the strange things started.

I say I believe in spirits, because of what I saw, heard, and felt living in Maple Terrace. Life went about as usual during the daylight. We went to school or church, depending on the day. We played, carried out our chores, and glued ourselves to television. The horror began at night. For a great period of time, I had a reoccurring nightmare. In my dream, a voice would taunt me about my father's pending death. I never saw who was speaking but remember waking, screaming, and crying. No one knew what was going on. I kept my nightmare secret quite a while. One night, I couldn't take it anymore. I ran crying from my room to my parents. I explained everything, and being the God-fearing man he is, my father said a prayer for me. The nightmare stopped, but worse things began to happen. I hated being alone in that house, especially after dark. If I was in a room alone, I would move to where others were. Once, I woke up late at night and couldn't get back to sleep. I mustered up the courage to leave my bedroom. I made my way down the stairs, and to the living room. The house was pitch black, silent. I cut the television on and began looking for cartoons. Suddenly, I heard footsteps. I muted the TV, turned my head toward the stairs, and waited. I heard feet on the steps, but saw no silhouette. I saw no one making the sound I heard. Slowly, the sound made its way down the stairs. Once it reached the last step, it stopped. Frozen with fear I stood quiet. I waited an eternity before moving. I crept to the edge of the living room when the footsteps started again. This time, they moved about quickly. Whatever was there ran up and down the stairs for a period of about twenty minutes. Somehow, when the running stopped, I made my way to my room. Exhausted and confused, I fell asleep.

My last experience in the house will stick with me forever. Darkness came, and I tried my hardest to sleep. After wrestling around a while, I drifted into a dream. Loud thunder woke me later that night. Shifting in my bed, I turned to my window to see rain sliding down the glass. Lightning flashed as I turned back to try and sleep. Above me was a frightening sight. Two faces rested on the wall; one staring straight ahead, and the other glaring at me. Lightning flashed again revealing the silhouette of an old woman in my closet. The half crippled woman leaned on a crutch, dressed in a dirty gray dress with muddy feet. I pulled the covers closer to me. Looking again, I saw the faces on the wall. One still focused on the opposite side of the room, the other looked more intensely at me. Lightning flashed again. I turned my head to see a figure opposite me. A man, dressed in Roman soldier's attire, holding a sword and shield. He had reddish blonde hair, and blue eyes. He looked at me, and refocused his attention out the window. For a while I forgot about the faces on the wall, or the woman in the closet. The man's presence comforted me. Remembering the others, I turned to the closet, the woman was gone. I turned to the wall, the faces were no more. Lightning flashed, I looked for the Roman soldier, but he too had disappeared. I fell asleep.

These are not the only paranormal or supernatural experiences I've had. The hardest thing about them is they are unpredictable. I'll see or feel a spirit at random, and go days, months, or years before it happens again. I have no control over this gift. I can't pinpoint when I will see, feel, or smell a spirit. All I know is that this is some ability I have. Is it something I was born with? I believe so.

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