First, I guess I want to draw attention to the fact that, like so many here, my life seems to have been peppered with the sort of nexus of strange events and experiences that are regarded as outside the "norm."
I actually have a theory about that, but I suppose that can wait. Second, I don't believe in ghosts. I know. I know. I'm writing this experience in a ghost forum of believers. I don't begrudge you your beliefs. I simply don't believe in lost spirits wandering the earth looking for a path to the light. That being said. It's been weird.
This particular event happened when I was 14 years old. My brother and I were sleeping in an abandoned house. Well, technically I suppose I was squatting but it was somewhere warm and my brother was spending the night that night. I can't remember why. Usually I spent the night there alone.
I guess I do need to explain a little more about myself for this to make sense. I died when I was three years old. Obviously it didn't take, but my fragility meant I spent the first five or six years of my life in a medicated sort of daze. I saw a lot of things. I heard a lot of things. I decided by the time I hit the third grade that if someone else didn't see it or hear it with me, then it simply wasn't real. It got worse when I was "drifting," which is what I call those moments when the physical slips away from you. When you're falling asleep, but not really sleeping, or when you completely zone out and miss your stop on the bus. That's drifting.
So, this night it was around 2 am and I was well into my drifting. My brother, Mike, was laying on the floor next to my bed (only one bed) in one of the upstairs bedrooms. I started to hear something that sounded like words formed by the wind outside the window.
You have to understand, I'm not scared by the sounds. I'm drifting, and I'm sleepy, and I'm more curious in a vague sort of way because hearing music or voices in the drift isn't really that strange for me. But as I lay there listening, the voice seems to get a little clearer, until I could almost make out actual words. Then a voice, loud as a person standing in the center of the room, spoke my name.
Ok. Here is the part you need to consider my past to understand. I still wasn't scared. I'd been hanging one arm off the bed and absently staring at my brother as I listened, and it wasn't the worst thing I'd ever heard but it was certainly new in its own way. But not really anything to get worked up about. Until Mike's eyes popped open and he went white as a sheet.
At that point I still felt pretty relaxed, but started to get an uncomfortable sort of feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Mike," I said, "Did you hear something?"
Mike nodded, but didn't say anything.
So now I'm starting to become a little concerned, but I'm still reasonably sure everything is hallucination-ville voices generated but wind and a healthy drift. But...
"What did you hear?" I asked.
Mike swallowed hard, looked right at me and whispered, "Someone is calling your name."
I considered that a moment, then said, "You want to get the hell outta here?" Mike nodded. I jumped out of bed and we wandered the streets until dawn.
Boys and girls, whatever you think, there is something in the wind. Believe it or don't. I don't know what it is. I lean towards demon but that's more of a theological choice. I don't know anything for sure. But I can feel it when it's there. I felt it tonight. That's why I started browsing for others with similar experiences and found this site.
I still don't believe in ghosts. But it has been some kind of weird off and on all my life, and the wind seems to herald it or come with it or something. It happened so often I even named the damn thing when I was an angst-filled teen.
I called it Rerednaw. Wanderer spelled backwards. Corny? Yep. I was a kid, so cut me some slack.
Also, if I can offer a bit of personal experience advice. Don't talk to any of them. Don't fear any of them. And don't speak of them at night. All of these things draw their attention. Give them nothing. Ignore them if you can.