Being haunted don't necessarily mean you see a ghost or see things move and such ,being haunted is more of a mental and emotional terror in most cases. I will give you an example from my own experiences of what I call a mental haunting.
I was 16 years old when my step mother was about due to give birth to her third child which would be my half sister, but to me I am not a dog nor are my sisters so I awaited my SISTER to be born, so excited, at 16 who wouldn't love to have a baby sister or even a baby brother at that age? Well sadly my poor step mother would discover the baby she carried had died by the umbilical cord choking the poor thing. Alyssa was born and the funeral was aside her grave up on the hill in the cemetery down our street. From my upstairs bedroom window you could see the grave stones twinkle by the light of the moon or street light. I often would stand in my bedroom window at night looking down the street hoping to catch a glimpse of a spirit.
It was a sad time for us all, me, my parents, and my three other sisters were struck with grief like a strike of lightening. It was the first time I actually seen my father cry, he had tears and was wearing a face full of worry, not balling but still he had never shown sad emotions, he was always lets say a hard head. But he had a house full of girls and one of his precious daughters had died. I felt constant sadness for my parents and kept thinking of my dead baby sister how she was unholdable and unreachable, how I could do nothing to help her, or take away this painful and heavy gray vail of sadness from my family.
I was shown a picture of her tiny dead body, it hit me so hard the realism of death. I had been making her a baby blanket in home Economics class when she was lost to death, it went into her small box of memory's my step mother had made, unfinished and all hopes of a new born sister would never be wrapped in it's warmth.
One night that I will never forget, I was seeing that picture of her dead body with her clef lip and decaying arm in my head over and over, and then when I opened my eyes there was her little casket in the middle of my bedroom floor , I was astonished, I had awoken from a dream of playing with her and there on my fucking floor was a damn casket, a tiny white one, just like hers and I knew it was hers and it was my own despair ,I wanted her, I wanted my sister with us not death, I was mad and hurt and ready to take on any dark forces to get her back if I had to.
When I got up from my bed to go open this casket in hopes I would be able to hold her and hear her cry or breath, it was gone, I had imagined it. I say this is a mental haunting. But what caused the illusions in my room of a casket to my eyes so real? I will never know, but it was terrifying indeed. And so very sad for a 16 year old girl to have to feel. I was already primed for the loss of loved ones through my life starting with my own baby sister. In my heart I felt nothing could feel this bad no other death could be worse then loosing a baby sister, OH how wrong I was because when death came to take my dad ,it knocked me out from under my knees and ripped my very soul from my body .
Grief will get you every time, it will drive one crazy to put into words written my one of my favorite authors....
As I'd learned what this meant with the death of my father, so many things I felt guilty about, like borrowing too much from him or not telling him I love him enough or not seeing he was sick and making him go to the doctors earlier, hard headed or not.
But I know it was not my fault, I know he loved me and still dose.
But back with the mental hauntings ,one evening as I sat on my bed and my family (husband and children) watched TV in the living room , I heard my dads voice in my ear, he called my nickname he gave me, he always called me by my nickname BLAB! I heard it, it was his voice, we just buried him a few weeks before , I was still grieving and so sad I could barely function normally.
I am one to feel my woes and pains at home in private, I had held a lot in from the funeral and all the visits with family. But this shit was for real, I just heard my dad say my nickname and I yelled Dad but I meant to yell for my husband , my husband came to me and I was in shock , I felt as if my dad was in the room sitting on the bed beside me and I said
I was 16 years old when my step mother was about due to give birth to her third child which would be my half sister, but to me I am not a dog nor are my sisters so I awaited my SISTER to be born, so excited, at 16 who wouldn't love to have a baby sister or even a baby brother at that age? Well sadly my poor step mother would discover the baby she carried had died by the umbilical cord choking the poor thing. Alyssa was born and the funeral was aside her grave up on the hill in the cemetery down our street. From my upstairs bedroom window you could see the grave stones twinkle by the light of the moon or street light. I often would stand in my bedroom window at night looking down the street hoping to catch a glimpse of a spirit.
It was a sad time for us all, me, my parents, and my three other sisters were struck with grief like a strike of lightening. It was the first time I actually seen my father cry, he had tears and was wearing a face full of worry, not balling but still he had never shown sad emotions, he was always lets say a hard head. But he had a house full of girls and one of his precious daughters had died. I felt constant sadness for my parents and kept thinking of my dead baby sister how she was unholdable and unreachable, how I could do nothing to help her, or take away this painful and heavy gray vail of sadness from my family.
I was shown a picture of her tiny dead body, it hit me so hard the realism of death. I had been making her a baby blanket in home Economics class when she was lost to death, it went into her small box of memory's my step mother had made, unfinished and all hopes of a new born sister would never be wrapped in it's warmth.
One night that I will never forget, I was seeing that picture of her dead body with her clef lip and decaying arm in my head over and over, and then when I opened my eyes there was her little casket in the middle of my bedroom floor , I was astonished, I had awoken from a dream of playing with her and there on my fucking floor was a damn casket, a tiny white one, just like hers and I knew it was hers and it was my own despair ,I wanted her, I wanted my sister with us not death, I was mad and hurt and ready to take on any dark forces to get her back if I had to.
When I got up from my bed to go open this casket in hopes I would be able to hold her and hear her cry or breath, it was gone, I had imagined it. I say this is a mental haunting. But what caused the illusions in my room of a casket to my eyes so real? I will never know, but it was terrifying indeed. And so very sad for a 16 year old girl to have to feel. I was already primed for the loss of loved ones through my life starting with my own baby sister. In my heart I felt nothing could feel this bad no other death could be worse then loosing a baby sister, OH how wrong I was because when death came to take my dad ,it knocked me out from under my knees and ripped my very soul from my body .
Grief will get you every time, it will drive one crazy to put into words written my one of my favorite authors....
“Guilt is a tireless horse. Grief ages into sorrow, and sorrow is an enduring rider.”
― Dean Koontz, The Darkest Evening of the Year
― Dean Koontz, The Darkest Evening of the Year
As I'd learned what this meant with the death of my father, so many things I felt guilty about, like borrowing too much from him or not telling him I love him enough or not seeing he was sick and making him go to the doctors earlier, hard headed or not.
But I know it was not my fault, I know he loved me and still dose.
But back with the mental hauntings ,one evening as I sat on my bed and my family (husband and children) watched TV in the living room , I heard my dads voice in my ear, he called my nickname he gave me, he always called me by my nickname BLAB! I heard it, it was his voice, we just buried him a few weeks before , I was still grieving and so sad I could barely function normally.
I am one to feel my woes and pains at home in private, I had held a lot in from the funeral and all the visits with family. But this shit was for real, I just heard my dad say my nickname and I yelled Dad but I meant to yell for my husband , my husband came to me and I was in shock , I felt as if my dad was in the room sitting on the bed beside me and I said
"Dad, what is it like to be where you are ,what is it like to be dead and I heard with his voice, "It's like a window"! what the heck was this, explain this to me it was his voice and it was real to me but no one else heard it?..........So we bring on our own hauntings by those we are connected to I suppose. But I trust my dad came through with an answer for a question I had been begging God to let me know.
I believe we are connected telepathically and this is how we communicate in the after life.
Thou people judge me by what has happened in my life ,uncontrollable, I still know it is not approval from man I seek, it is truth . Only God knows it all and to tell me I am a sinner for wanting to know what lays beyond death is just plain stupid, we all should know and in my Bible it says seek the truth.
I believe we are connected telepathically and this is how we communicate in the after life.
Thou people judge me by what has happened in my life ,uncontrollable, I still know it is not approval from man I seek, it is truth . Only God knows it all and to tell me I am a sinner for wanting to know what lays beyond death is just plain stupid, we all should know and in my Bible it says seek the truth.
