Personal Experiences: Patrick

Location: Southern New Brunswick, Canada

Log: 

People often ask: "How can you be stupid enough to believe in ghosts?". Well trust me, if you had seen or felt some of the things I have, you would be a believer and not asking such a stupid question.

It was said that my childhood house was one of the oldest in the neighbourhood, arguably the oldest. The house had been built at least 150 years ago and trust me, it showed. The feelings, sights and sounds I experienced in this house would lead me to develop unusual habits and make me a believer in the paranormal world.

Many memorable and frankly quite terrifying things happened to me in my childhood home. Things as insignificant as hearing footsteps and noises from the upstairs to events as extreme as seeing objects levitate before my eyes and being touched.

My first and most frightening experience with the paranormal world occurred around the age of 5 or so. I remember it clearly, it was a nice summer day, the smell of dish soap filled the air. My mother was at the sink doing dishes, my sister sat at the table doing homework. I, however, was on the kitchen floor diligently building a lego house, ignoring my sisters advice to "Lap the Blocks". She had given up on teaching me how to build a sturdy lego house and turned her attention else where. I go to grab another block and freeze at what I see. A 2x2 blue block of lego had simply started floating, the block floats to about a foot and a half, levitates over my lego house and lands right in the centre of the unfinished house. This is when I started believing in the paranormal.

Another slightly less drastic story is one that I never bother to tell. If I recall my mother was at the local bingo game, my father was working and my sister was at her boyfriend's. I wake up at the usual time of about noon and carry on my business for the day. The sun had just started to go down. I was exiting the bathroom when suddenly the air got a mild chill; I wouldn't call it cold. It was then that I felt a light touch on my shoulder, I turn around, knowing that no one would be there. And alas I was right. I ran out of the house, completely panic stricken, threw up and, if I recall, I called my sister crying and she swore at me before trying to comfort me.

Countless less significant things happened in the house. Needless to say my childhood house was haunted and it would seem that the ghost bothered me more then anyone else in the home. My parents assured me that the ghost was simply "Old Andrew" and not to be afraid, but I wasn't convinced.