I guess to understand this; you need a little bit of background information. I am a 20 year old Christian, married woman. I am married to a Muslim man and am completely happy and healthy but for a few minor things in my life.
My mother has had several paranormal experiences, as have I, my grandmother is a sensitive and so is my husband, though he is Muslim and has different takes on the paranormal than I do which tend to lean towards Jinns and creatures like that... I just feel that I get it in more intense doses than those around me who know about it.
When my mom was 16 she became a Satanist and dabbled in dark magic. When she had me at 30 years old, she renounced her ways and became Christian as well, but we both feel that her actions may have opened me up from a young age to the world of the supernatural.
She told me that as a young child I would sit in a dark hallway (we didn't have electricity at the time) and babble in my baby talk to someone much taller than me, very tall... We were living in Missoula Montana at the time... She said that I would cry sometimes or scream; others I would just laugh and coo.
My earliest experience I can remember at 5 is more like a half dream, half memory. I used to get freaked out about having to go past the dark pantry room to get to my bedroom or the bathroom; we lived in a trailer at the time. I would dart past the room as fast as possible, it felt wrong to me. Upon running past it one day, I distinctly remember not running past it, but being drawn into it, and that I was somehow sitting inside that room, but not on the floor, sort of suspended. Some big thing was holding me like a baby, I can't remember correctly but whatever it was it was scaring me.
Mom heard me crying and came in, turning on the light, where I fell down from the middle of the air, with a gash on my cheek. I to this day have a long, thin scar on my cheek exactly where the doctors had to stitch me up. Whether it was from the fall or from the entity I may never know. Strangely there had not been any bruising around the wound site, just like a knife had slashed my flesh rather than a quick bashing from the floor.
But the pantry was very empty, nothing on the floor for me to cut myself on and mom later admitted to seeing me fall from the middle of the air, not anywhere near a shelf or leaping from a counter. After further investigation and prying into my mother's past, I found that the house we lived in had been the same house she had started to worship the Devil in at a young age, in her childhood home and having nowhere to go, she moved back in as her father had given it to her to rent.
But those weren't the only things to happen in that house, and the Shadow man, as I call him even though I remember him being more substance than shadow and starkly white as well as impossibly tall even for a male, he sometimes visits me in my dreams even to this day, and then at other times he disappears, only to reappear when I am stressed. I like to look at things scientifically at first before succumbing to my baser fear of the unknown. I like to think that he only manifests when my defenses are weak or when I have immense stress or anger around me and my life. I do not ask Jesus to defend me, but God because my belief system is slightly different than the average Christian in that I ask God's help rather than Jesus and that won't change. I am dealing with being attracted to Islam and considering conversion but also dealing with 20 years of church going and baptisms. I am in-between right now.
Because of these things, and many others which I hope to submit slowly in my time here as a member, I have learned a few things about myself and the sensitivities my mind has. I have this thing where I can walk into a house and feel either comfortable, or uncomfortable in it, to tell whether I am safe there or not. It isn't as if I like it or not, but more like if the house has a dark cast to it, both physically and...err, what's the word, almost spiritually even though homes don't have a spirit. I have tested this theory several times. My parents take me with them whenever they move to a new house because my feelings have never been wrong.
Once when I was 15 my mom and dad wanted to move into a really beautiful country house, all white and pristine, very old too, we loved it. We asked about its history and it seemed clean enough as the owner didn't hesitate in stating it was fine, but when we first set tennis-shoed feet in there I balked like a donkey.
Something about the stairs reminded me of dreams from my childhood, upon where I would be chased about the house, and murdered up in the bedroom that was mine. I didn't say anything though, not wanting to pass up such a great deal but when I saw the room at the top floor that mom and dad wanted me to have, it was so identical to my dream, I demanded we leave then and there. Rushing down the stairs I tripped down them, breaking my ankle. I forced myself to believe I tripped out of my hurry to get out of there I still don't like to try and remember how I fell, it's better to assume the natural than the unnatural.
After doing my own research in newspapers and on the internet I found out that a little girl had been molested and then murdered by her step-dad, smothered to death exactly where in my dream I was killed in, the bedroom. I don't know why I had those dreams, but I guess something was warning me to not move there or something bad would happen. Thank God we didn't move there.
Two weeks later, a different family moved in after we viewed it. Their daughter, a friend and classmate of mine, complained of terrible scratching and squeaking sounds in her bedroom, yes, the one I was supposed to have. Her dad was acting weird and complaining about someone pulling the covers off his bed, slamming doors, and the sound of footsteps around the bed. Jessica and her family moved after a year without incident but something in me told me not to go there, maybe it was okay for her and her family but I feel that if I was warned about it at the tender age of 7 or so when the dreams started, that I should heed the warning and not move there.
I hope to post more as it is nice to finally be around people that understand. My mother wishes to not speak on her past to help me deal with what I am going through right now and my husband believes it is better to not speak of it or else the talking will manifest itself into something, which I sort of believe. But it would be really great to understand and have some support.