Way back in the Jurassic period, 1963-1969, we would go to Pennsylvania to visit with my grandparents. They lived in a small-town called Ellwood City. We would spend days, or even weeks there when I was a kid. Of course, when my little sister, Arlene, & myself were there longer than a weekend my parents would leave us with our Grandparents. We would have such a wonderful time being spoiled rotten by Grandma, & Grandpa. Oh, they 'were' told by our parents that 'if' we misbehaved that they had 'permission' to discipline us. However, Arlene, & I pretty much behaved as we enjoyed being in the country, and romping about. Eating Grandma's home-made cookies (the best on the planet), & going for rides with them in Grandpa's Corvair.
In the Summer we'd be there for 2 weeks. We had plenty of relatives since our grandparents had so many children. All those aunts, and uncles had children naturally. We had close to 40 cousins. Yikes! When they had a lot of relatives over, such as during the holidays, you couldn't hardly move for all the people there.
My grandparents had a large house with a huge living room, sun porch, dining room, kitchen, a full dirt-floored basement, 3 bedrooms upstairs, & the largest bathroom I'd ever seen in my life. However, considering the size of the family a large bathroom was in order. The guest bedroom was next to a linen closet, and in closest proximity to the bathroom. Across from the bathroom in the adjoining hallway were 2 other bedrooms. One was grandpas, and across from his was grandma's. Me, my little sister, and several younger cousins slept in the guest room. Some other young cousins slept with our grandparents.
The guest bedroom had one big double-bed that my sister, and smaller cousins slept in while I being the oldest of the group, slept in a small roll-away bed at the foot of the double-bed near an outside window, and right outside of the attic door. That attic door was the only problem that "I" encountered while in 'that' bedroom.
I could never seem to relax, or get comfortable. It wasn't the bed. It was being near that attic door, or 'what' was on the other side of it.
I would just lay awake all night staring at it. I just had a funny feeling something was up there, but I didn't understand 'why' I felt like that. Once the daylight broke I was quite relieved to get up, and away from that door. Even if I didn't get any sleep. I never discussed that with anybody. Not even my sister, or the cousins that were my age. I certainly didn't tell my parents. I just pushed it to the back of my mind as the years went on.
Fast forward a few more years. We went to spend another weekend with my grandparents. A lot of other relatives came up, also. My Mom's older brother, Uncle Eddy, and Aunt Rosemary came up with 6 of his 12 children in a van. They brought the 6 oldest children, & the younger ones were left with relatives from Aunt Rosemary's family in Louisiana.
During that particular time my sister, and Uncle Eddy's kids wondered 'what' was up in the attic that had the dreaded door in the guest room upstairs. Grandpa decided to take us all on a tour of the attic to explore its treasures. This was where the rubber met the road as far as I was concerned. I decided to face my apprehension, and go up into the attic. Ha! Grandpa opened the door, and I observed my little sister, and 6 cousins bound up the steps behind him like little chicks following mother hen. I went to put my foot on the first step, and 'bam'. I hit an ice-cold wall that prevented me from progressing any further. Seriously! I hit a wall of cold. None of the others felt it. Only me. I couldn't move.
Meanwhile, they were all upstairs in the attic by then, and calling me to come join them. I made some lame-duck excuse; I told them I had a cramp in my leg, and I'd wait downstairs for them to come and tell what all they found up there. They came back down almost an hour later, and reported to me about the wonderful items up there. They, also, mentioned that there was a trunk with a collection of photographs in it. Amongst the pictures was a picture of a casket. Grandpa explained that was his son, Billy, who was killed by a truck in a bicycle accident many years ago. They held the wake/funeral downstairs in the living room in front of the fire place. Shocker! It was to them anyway! However, in 'those' days families held funerals in the homes. I imagine that is still being practiced in some other countries around the World.
Grandpa said he was hit head-on by the truck, and they had to have a closed casket ceremony because he was so badly disfigured in the accident. I do recall seeing a large oval portrait of my Uncle Billy on the northern wall of the living room. Mom told me it was her brother Billy who died when he was 12. That was all my Mom told me of it.
That still does not explain my uneasiness about the attic until many years later when I was grown, & married. We were visiting my parents. Mom, and I were in the kitchen at the table just drinking coffee, and talking. My husband John, and Dad were in the living room talking. You know! The male/female schism bit.
I don't know how the conversation got around to Uncle Billy, but Mom told me that due to the fact there were so many kids in the house that they slept crowded in the beds. Some slept down in the living room on a large sofa-bed. Space was pretty much compromised, and Billy wanted his 'own' room. Hence, the only room left was the attic. 'That' became my Uncle Billy's bedroom. Eureka! It all made sense. I surmised that my Uncle's spirit was up there, and possibly 'trying' to communicate to a 'family' member. I was it. Unfortunately, I was far too young to understand what was happening to me at the time. So, I reacted the way most kids would. I got scared.
I often wish I would've been much older when that took place. Once I got older, I began to understand my slight ability. I would not have been frightened, and I would've tried to find out what his message would have been to his other family members.
My grandparents passed on, and the house was sold to another family that is living there to this day. I often wonder about my Uncle Billy, whom I never got to know. I hope he's moved on since there are no longer any family members living in that house.
This incident is what made me realize that I was somewhat psychic, and could sense presences, or things at a young age. I've had other paranormal encounters after this. Not the least of which is 'The House on Erie Road', the first account submitted to this site. However, this occurrence paved the way for what transpired later on.