For most of my life I’ve had to sleep with a light on. Even as an adult, if my husband isn’t in bed next to me, I often need a light on. I’ve seen too many scary things in the dark. Like when I was little and things would stand at the end of my bed while I tried to sleep. I was terrified. I was plagued with gruesome, disturbing and terrifying nightmares. A recurring nightmare that has haunted me for four decades is the same formula. I’m in a house being chased by ghosts. Details are always slightly different. Sometimes I can see the ghosts, sometimes they are invisible, sometimes they fly, sometimes they get right up next to me and I run away at the last second. Sometimes I’m in a gorgeous fancy mansion, sometimes it’s a filthy abandoned house with holes in the walls, sometimes it’s small and I find unexpected rooms, and sometimes I’m protecting someone else — usually a pet. But the basic fact is that spirits are pursuing me. Sometimes I believe they are evil, sometimes I don’t know their intention, but damn if that isn’t a metaphor for my waking life.
I met with a Witch who gave me a tarot reading and told me that I was surrounded by spirits.
Bed time equaled frightfest for me when I was a child. It didn’t help that my awake time included mean bullies at school making fun of me for my red hair and impoverished clothes. It also didn’t help that I suffered from abuse, neglect, and lack of stability at home. And as you can probably guess, my self-esteem was non-existent and my anxiety was consuming. Maybe that was a gateway? A portal for spirits to torment me? Or maybe they were just trying to say “hey we’re here. We’re watching out for you. We love you and you can count on us.” I hope it was the last one and I wish so deeply that I could have had that knowing then. Because at the time I was terrified. And worse, I had no one to talk to about it. If I told a friend at school, they would say that I was making it up. If a bully found out, oh god was that awful. If I told my mentally-ill mother, who had an on-again/off-again relationship with her meds, she punished me and yelled at me for making it up.So who was left? I felt so alone and isolated. I was a small child and I couldn’t process or understand what was happening. I lived in a rural hick town and there was no Google back then.
I grew more and more withdrawn and depressed. I was tired a lot because I fell asleep in fear at night. I was teased by my family for insisting on sleeping with my bedroom door wide open and the hall light on. My closet doors had to be closed completely. I spent hours lying frozen in my bed afraid to move. If a parent came in to check on me, I pretended to be asleep out of fear that I would get in trouble for being awake.
Bed time equaled frightfest for me when I was a child.
My kitty, Buttercup, was my best ally. Buttercup kept me safe. He slept with me and made me feel braver than I was. I often would be drifting off to sleep at night and he would walk up the bed to my face, lean in to give me a “are you asleep?” sniff, tickling my face with his whiskers, before lying down next to me. He was my champion. Even when the things would stand at the end of my bed, even when they shook the bed, Buttercup stayed with me. He didn’t abandon me. He didn’t look afraid. But I was afraid. I remember being too afraid to look. I remember thinking that if I just pretended to be asleep hard enough, whatever they were would go away. I felt cursed. I vaguely remember, in the beginning that I may have told my mother what was happening and she didn’t believe me, telling me to go to sleep. You know that horror movie cliché.
A few years ago, while visiting Salem, Mass, I met with a Witch who gave me a tarot reading and told me that I was surrounded by spirits. Duh! But she told me that from birth to the completion of college I had an older male spirit with me. That he’s gone now, but was with me all those years. She said that it was important to him that I finish school so he stayed with me all those years to be sure I finished. She didn’t know who he was or why he was so invested in my education, but sometimes I wonder if he was the one shaking my bed, trying to say “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re going to escape all of this.” Or maybe it was something else entirely.
My next post is going to be about what happens when an Intuitive goes into a haunted house. Be sure to Subscribe so you don’t miss it.