When I was sixteen years old, I told my grandmother that when I reach the age of 18, I was going to change my name. I was named after her and my aunt. I did not know that I had hurt her feelings. I just did not like my name and wanted something more common like a lot of my friends names were. I was so adamant about the change that I had a few of the names picked out for that special occasion.
My grandmother believed in ghosts. She would tell me and my sister ghosts stories about her experiences as well as her siblings and friends. They were really scary. I would listen for hours and hours. She was a very good story teller.
Well back to the story. After my granny told her ghosts stories, I laid down for the night. I got a scary feeling and I kind of put my head under the bed covers. Suddenly, something or someone grabbed my head and pushed down on my head so hard I could not move and could hardly breathe. I tried for a few seconds to pull the covers off my head but could not. The pain was really severe. I was about to scream out for my grandmother and the pressure of the hold on my head let go. I jerked the covers down and saw no one. I know it could not have been a live person because I would have seen them running away or standing there besides the bed. That gave me the oddest feeling and I was very much afraid. I jumped out of the bed and climbed to the top of my grandmother's bed and finally fell asleep. I told her about it the next morning and she just smiled at me.
It was a long time before I spent the night again and I never mentioned anything else about changing my name and that pressure never happened again.
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