Well, at the risk of receiving catcalls and sneers from the godless among us . . .
It goes back some 20 years, but was reinforced about 5 years ago. A friend of mine who was fascinated by handguns was killed when another guy we knew took my friend's .38 and shot him in the pelvis. The guy didn't check to see if the thing was loaded, which it was, with hollow-points, and my friend, who was on his bed talking on the phone to his girlfriend, suddenly had shrapnel ripping up his guts. He was rushed to the hospital were he lived for just under a month, then died. He was 19.
I was pretty close to his family. In fact, his mother took me in when I had problems at home. They lived in a large house atop a hill, surrounded by acres of trees. The seclusion that once made the house fun to live in soon made it unbearable, at least to me. My friend's room was locked, but his presence could be felt. And it didn't help that his mother, who was crushed by his death, began conducting séances in the dining room. At first I scoffed at this, even though I felt for her (she was a second mother to me), but there was something odd about the house. And late at night you could hear some kind of movement coming from my friend's room, and the faucet in his bathroom would go on and off, on and off.
Again I put this down to an overactive imagination coupled with the ongoing spiritualism that his mother fully embraced. Not long after all this I left and ended up in New York. Whenever I came back for a visit, I didn't stay long, but his mother and sister would tell me things about the house that on the surface sounded creepy and strange, but that I'd laugh off or otherwise dismiss.
Fast-forward to 5 years ago. I'm married with two kids, and I bring them to meet my second family. My friend's sister is also married, has three kids, and lives in another house recently built on the grounds. My daughter goes there to play with the girls while my wife, 2-year-old son and I go to the big house. The instant we enter, my son immediately freezes in his tracks. He grabs his mother's leg and begins sobbing and shaking. I ask him what's wrong but he won't answer, and his face expresses pure fear. We have no idea what's going on. We enter the large TV room and put on a Thomas the Tank Engine video which distracts him a bit and calms him down. But he won't let go of his mother, and he still shakes.
After a few hours things ease up a bit. We have a nice dinner and chat about various topics. The discussion never really turns to my long-deceased friend, but it doesn't have to. As the evening goes on a cold, angry presence can be felt. My son is worn out and falls asleep in my wife's arms. She and I talk about the what it is we feel, which is tangible, but cannot be really defined.
"Do you think it's him?" she asks.
"Dunno," I reply.
My friend's mother, who seems used to this, offers us her room for the night. We lay our son in the middle of the big bed, get ready for sleep ourselves. Now the presence is getting stronger. It literally makes your spine tingle. I'm a severe doubter of the afterlife and related myths, but this thing is real, and we both feel it. It is nasty, negative. We turn out the lights and lie down on either side of our son. The presence eases up, and soon we fall asleep.
As I begin to dream, all sorts of vile images crowd my mind. Piles of dead bodies covered in insects. Half-live bodies with shredded flesh crawling through shit. Snakes sliding through ripped-open stomachs. Disintegrating skulls. Loud moaning and cries of pain. The images accelerate and seem very real. Suddenly I sit up in bed, look to my left and there's my wife doing the same thing.
"Did you see that?" I say.
"Yes."
We had the exact same dream, or whatever the fuck it was. Exact. And now, in the dark of early morning, the nasty presence is back, and I do something I thought I'd never do: talk to the air as if something's there. I admonish my dead friend for pulling this on me and my family, tell him it's not fair and that I'm sorry he died so young. I ask him to please stop it. And, suddenly, it does. The patches of cold air that have followed us all night go away. The presence is gone. My wife and I talk a bit about this, then fall back to sleep, this time without the dramatic imagery.
Come morning we have breakfast and I tell my friend's mother about what happened. She apologizes and says we were never in danger. But when I talk to my friend's sister, she tells me that this shit goes on all the time, and that she's trying to get her mother to sell the house.
"She keeps him here. She won't let him go. And he's angry about it. He sees us age and have kids and he's stuck in some netherworld. And he lashes out."
So, what did all that mean? I have no idea. But it did happen, and it led me to read up on spectral occurrences, vapors, ghosts, etc. There's something to it, I think. It's part of existence, but to what degree, and whether it's tied to any religious belief I cannot say. On that point I remain agnostic.
DP