Growing Up in a Haunted House

I grew up in what I like to call a “movie set” neighborhood in Maplewood, MN. Perfect neighborhood blocks with houses lined up on both sides. It was quiet, it was nice, it was safe, it was perfect. The house itself was built in 1946 and there are no known traumas that happened in that house or on that land.

Growing up, I didn’t believe in ghosts. Well, that’s not true. It’s not that I didn’t believe in them, I just didn’t think about them. I was really interested in dreams. I never even had any experiences of a ghostly nature myself. I had heard stories from my oldest sister, Sue, who told me that she once ran out of the house and sat outside until somebody came home, because she sensed someone/something in the house. It wasn’t until later that I started hearing stories of my mom’s experiences, involving a shaking bed.

The most intense experience happened one evening when my dad was out of town on business. My mom was in her bedroom, my brother was down the hall in his bedroom and my sister, Jenny, and I were upstairs in our room. My mom saw a man walk down the hallway and go upstairs to where we were. My mom, thinking there was an actual man in the house, woke my brother up and said, “Larry, a man just went upstairs where the girls are. I’m going to go up there. Be prepared to call the cops.” She went upstairs, and the only thing she found was her two little daughters sleeping peacefully and undisturbed.

Other people, besides our family, felt something was “strange” in the house. When we look back and talk about it now, they always say, “I always felt there was something in that house.” Hey, thanks for telling me now!

My first run-in with something in that house took place when I was in high school. My friend, Erin, and I used to record ourselves singing karaoke in the basement all the time. One night, we were the only ones in that house. I was listening to a tape, a part between songs where we were just talking as we prepared the next song. Very clearly and distinctly (louder than our own voices) a man’s voice can be heard in a loud whisper saying, “Stop singing!” Needless to say, it was rather shocking to hear, but I laughed it off. Now I wish I could find that tape!

That was the first experience.

The second experience – the one that really made sit up and take notice – happened a year or two later. I was sleeping, and when I woke up there was a something floating above me. It was definitely human shaped, a glowing grey/white color and it was looking at me. I leaped up from my bed yelling, “OH MY GOD!” and flipped the light on. It was gone. Yes, I had been sleeping, and that made it easy for me to explain it away so I could get back to sleep. But I know I was awake. I know I was.

Then little experiences happened from then on. I lost my Chapstick and then found it two weeks later on my bed as if it had been there the whole time. I left my curling iron on my vanity table and came back to it a couple minutes later and found it lying in the hallway with the electric cord taut from the hallway to the vanity table. One day, I was going to head upstairs to borrow a shirt from my sister. I stopped in the kitchen to make sure the cupboards were all closed, and then I ran upstairs. When I came back down, all the cupboards were wide open. Everyone was at work at the time, so it wasn’t a family member messing with me.

The most recent experience happened just a few months ago. I found my 4-year-old nephew Michael standing in my niece Natalie’s room (my old room) and he was just staring toward the closet/window area. I walked in to see what he was staring at. I heard some rustling around in Natalie’s closet, so I thought she was trying to dig a toy out. That’s exactly what it sounded like. I went to see what she was doing, but when I looked inside the closet, nothing was there.

My sister Jenny and niece Natalie live in the house, and both of them have seen a little girl upstairs in what is now Jenny’s room.

We don’t know who the ghosts might be, though we theorize that one may be the former owner of the house. I do remember a very vivid dream I had one night, that I walked into the family room and there was a young guy (probably in his teens) sitting there. He was dressed in overalls and a flannel shirt. He definitely looked like a farm boy. I just looked at him and asked what he was doing there. He got up and started walking up the stairs to my sister’s room. I asked him what his name was and he turned around and said what it was and then just kept heading upstairs.

So there you have it. I truly believe I grew up in a haunted house in a quiet, normal, Midwest neighborhood. There’s nothing ominous about the house or the neighborhood. In fact, if you walk into that house, the energy is very light and happy. Whoever our ghost(s) is/are, they’ve always been easy to live with despite some less-than-comfortable moments.



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