I believe now, and the girl of nine believed God is real. At seven, eight or nine, really not sure of her age, she experienced God alone under East Texas sky back in the 1950’s despite the fact the family had no belief systems guiding it. She also experienced many other odd encounters. The family home seemed to have “a portal or doorway,” as she called it then trying to explain it through many years. Her bedroom became at night, such a place where, when everyone else slept in the home, a dark room filled with supernatural energy. And beings who were very tall and wearing long monk robes that covered their faces, who also had, oblong hood covered heads, who also, stood like giants, moved from in and out her closet, no matter if the doors were open or closed. She laid paralyzed nightly as they worked doing something. The paralysis was possibly fear induced or of alien induction. She was seven, eight, nine, ten or so when the visits came almost nightly. The family moved when she entered Jr. High. Then, she slept for the first time after many years. The night fears of tall beings left though chronic insomnia followed her for a lifetime.
(An imagine photographed from the window of The Home My Father Built)
She went off to college, moved away, married and had two children. Her mother and father moved back to that home, which by the way, her father built a few years later. She refused to sleep in that room when she returned for visits and gladly took any other room. However, her two children stayed in that room.
She rationalized, “surely, it was my imagination, and my children will be okay sleeping in the room. They will be together, so … ” creepy, paranoid thoughts that really were just crazy childhood imaginations were the basis for this tall delusions, she believed in her grownup years.
Twenty eighth years passed when she finally told the story to the family. Her daughter was there listening. “Mom, did they look like…?”
“Wait, don’t tell me, but draw what you saw and I will too.”
Sure enough, they drew the same drawing of the beings.
Her daughter told the story how one of the robed beings was in charge of maintaining her in the bedroom as she was always awake, like her mother. The being looked into her eyes to tell her things, though “you can’t see it’s face, it was evil and threatened her of her brothers future, if…” He then showed her a visual picture of how they were going to burry her brother. He was two years younger and sleeping next to her, then. They were very young. He was three, maybe, making her five and a half. She was very brave. She never told the story until later after her grandmother died. The mother and daughter compared notes and pictures.
Since she, the mother, was a child fifty five years ago she chose to live far away from the house her father built in East Texas, however, resent necessity brought her back to live in the same house. “The beings aren’t there anymore. The house has rested from that activity, though other paranormal experiences have occured.”
I will continue the stories of The Home My Father Built one small chapter at a time.
Thank you for reading,
I’m moving away from the home my father built. It is summer 2013, August.
The lights danced in the backyard and caught my attention. So, I took the cell phone and begain capturing a small fraction of the dancing lights that played on the trees. It is sunset. The large light was taken with the setting sun behind me. I’m facing East.