This is my first post and it is a bit long (sorry about that) but please bear with me.
I was born in 1990 and had always had a casual almost on again/off again relationship with the paranormal. Sometimes I would see them everywhere and sometimes they were nowhere to be found. But they never scared me.
When I was around 6 and my sister 7, our grandfather died. We were quite young so my parents just told us that he had passed away and we never thought to ask how. A few years later I had a dream about. I dreamt that we were sitting in a garden talking. I was asking him all the questions that had been bothering me over the years, including how and why he died. I had never asked my mother since it seemed to upset her too much.
It turns out he had been shot 3 times: once in the neck, once in the chest and once in the abdomen. And here is the kicker, it wasn't an accident or a coincidence, he was murdered. This didn't seem to bother me in the dream, it was just one of those things. He then told me that he wanted me to stop being sad over him and not to be bitter over how or why he died because if he hadn't been shot that day, he would have died roughly 3 months later of a fatal heart attack, and that if something is meant to happen then it will happen one way or another. We kept talking for a bit and then everything faded and I woke up.
The next morning I asked my dad about how my grandfather had died. This time he was a bit more willing to share the details. He was a bit shocked when I told him about the dream, though. All the details turned out to be spot on.
Two days after I had the dream, a very close friend of mine died in a car accident. I think maybe my grandfather wanted to give me closure over his death so I could cope with my friend dying.
I knew my house was haunted and didn't mind it since I knew the person before he died and he never came into the house. It used to be my stepfather's house before he died. He was chronically depressed and ended up committing suicide in 2011. Apart from the house, in the garden is a separate building that he used as a photography studio and happens to be where he died. The studio was his preferred place of haunting so he stayed out of the house and mostly out of my hair.
After his death my mother couldn't bear to live in the house anymore so I rented it from her. The first couple of nights after my stepfather died were eventful to say the least. If you sit on the couch facing the TV you can see the studio door through the sliding door. I had the sliding door open the first night since I didn't want to unlock and relock the (heavy) security gate every time I wanted to smoke and since my stepfather and I always sat on the couch smoking and talking away into the early hours of the morning I didn't think anything of it.
I was sitting on the couch watching TV when I heard a faint rattling. At first I couldn't figure out where it came from but as it grew louder I realised it was the studio door. The door was mostly made of glass panels and I could actually see the door moving. Even in the dark. It got so bad that at one point I actually heard glass breaking. I checked I out the next morning and all the windows were closed so it couldn't have been wind, there wasn't any wind that night anyway, and there was no broken glass anywhere.
It stopped after a while and I later moved into the studio after more people moved into the house. In the afternoon just before 5 o'clock you can still hear someone running over the studios' deck.
Okay, this is the part I don't like. In 2013 I was sharing a house with a friend of a friend that I didn't like much. He had just moved in and I was kind of desperate not to be paying the full rent anymore so I didn't ask any questions and just let him move in.
A couple of days after he moved in I started having these horrible dreams. I would dream that I am in a strange house, hiding from this little girl. The house would always be the same and the little girl looked like she was from olden times. The thing is I knew that she wasn't a little girl, she was something else and she was hunting me. There was also this thing that looked like an antique toy. It looked like a doll riding a bicycle except it was all skeletal and just wrong and every time it found me, she found me.
At first I thought that they were just dreams. Needless to say, I wasn't sleeping very well and soon started to sink into a depression. I was never suicidal, to me it is the ultimate act of selfishness, but I started to isolate myself from everyone and everything I cared about. I then started getting bruises I couldn't explain. I lost another one of my friends during this dark time. I also lost my job and my boyfriend at the time. You know they say bad things happen in threes? Well with me it's a rule. If something really bad happens, I know there is more to come.
So, being more vulnerable and depressed than ever, the dreams got worse. They got so bad that I did something I wholeheartedly believe you should never do. I asked my stepfather's spirit to get rid of it. The reason I believe it is wrong is:
1. I can't be a hundred percent positive that the spirit haunting my house is my stepfather.
2. I believe that if you acknowledge an entity that was never human it gives that being a certain amount of power over you.
What happened next was kind of odd but as it turns out, for the best. The dreams stopped, I got the first proper night's sleep in a long time, the depression lifted (slightly) and I was in the market for a new housemate. So here is what happened.
After I asked for my stepfather's help I tried to go to sleep. I was dozing off when I heard a very loud commotion. I came out of my room to see my very large and half dressed housemate in tears. He doesn't believe in ghosts or anything he can't see. He then proceeded to tell me that he had woken up from a dead sleep to see a very tall, thin man with short brown hair and round glasses standing over him. I showed him a picture of my stepfather and he confirmed it was him. I told him not to worry and that he was harmless and I would check the room out to make sure it was safe.
Boy was I wrong about the harmless part. As soon as I walked into his room I got this overwhelming feeling of fear and hate. It was almost hard to breathe. So I left his room and went back into mine and the feeling was gone.
I repeated the procedure with the same result. My housemate refused to even sleep on the couch that night and ended up sleeping in his car. He was gone by morning. Later I found out that he liked to hurt women. Our mutual friend found out around the same time I did.
I was feeling much better and got a new job. But my problems weren't solved as I thought. But since this is getting a bit long I will leave it for another time. Please excuse my grammar or any mistakes I might have made. English isn't my first language.