The Homestead

My story (or rather stories) take place in the house I grew up in. It is an old farm house dating back to pre- civil war era Ohio. It is not steeped in folklore, was not a stop on the underground railroad. It did not serve as the setting of a ghastly murder. It is simply a rambling old farm house. It has always been and will always be in my family as it was the original homestead of my father's family. It was the scene of many happy memories of my childhood. It is also the scene of more than a few strange and inexplicable occurrences.

As a child I had a lot of strange dreams. I also got visits from people while playing in my room and quite weird noises coming from the closet. You see, my room was at the top of the old stairwell which ended in my closet(a later addition moved the stairs in a different direction). There was always a lot of "footsteps on the stairs" sort of noises a night. However since my sisters, with whom I shared the room never seemed to hear anything, I thought my very over active imagination was playing tricks with me. I never really talked about the people I saw or the sounds I heard.

By my teens, I decided to talk to my Mom about my experiences. As it turned out, everyone in the house had very similar stories to tell. My oldest brother, as a child, talked of a little boy who would come to his bedroom at night and wake him. My Mom and Dad had had a strange light appear over their bed one night. Realize that our house is in the middle of no where and there are no outdoor lights on our property. Shortly after they bought a tall dresser from an aunts estate sale, my father had a visit from said dead aunt in the middle of the night. (She lingered wherever the dresser moved. I once borrowed it when I moved out of my parents house until I could afford my own furniture, and she visited me until I took the thing back to my parents!)

There were many other stories of the same ilk, far too many to bore you with. Basically we knew that no one but family ever lived or died in that house, so we were never really concerned. They never bothered us really so we lived with them in peace.

Now for the ubiquitous UNTIL...

I had moved out of my parents house to go to college many years ago. I visit as much as possible. Well, during one of my visits, I was sleeping in my old room. This room, as I've said before, was at the top of the old stairwell. Being so conveniently placed, it was the sick room, and consequently the dying room. This never really bothered me. Death and life are part of the natural order of the universe and have never really been a real concern, being the sturdy farm girl I am. But I digress. I was soundly sleeping in my old bed with my dog snoozing on (not at -on) my feet. I awoke at a very strange feeling. I figured that my dog had gotten up and went to look out the window as he was wont to do. I was just fully waking out of a sound sleep, when I got the distinct impression of some one or thing very near my head. Once again I thought of my dog. Then VERY distinctly, I felt a hand brush my hair from my face. I woke up quite quickly. I looked down at my feet, and there was my dog, sleeping and whimpering as if he was having a bad dream. Needless to say, I did not sleep that night.

I told my mom then very next morning, and shortly after my room was redecorated, and christened "The Mary Room", due to the overwhelming amount of images of the Blessed Virgin my Mom put in there. Yes we are Catholic, and my mom didn't mind the ghosts being in her house, but touching her baby crossed the line! So it was blessed and properly iconocized.

We haven't had any further trouble, and I guess I was not really scared. Several members of my family refuse to sleep in that room after hearing my little tale. But I have no problem with it. Like I said, they are all family ghosts and pretty much harmless. Even so, I'm not interested in having that touching moment repeated!