Becoming Spiritually Awakened and Other Scary Stories – Part One by Tracy Thompson

I’ve secretly felt there was something different about me all my life when it comes to things like spirits and generally things that go bump in the night.  I remember little fractured memories as a child that I kept to myself because I thought I was attracting the devil or demons or something awful like that. Growing up in a very fundamental Christian religious family, it was often lectured to us as children that spirits, ghosts, voices that you hear from sources unknown are all from the Devil and you are in danger of becoming Demonized which is a very scary prospect indeed. All kinds of horrible images came into my mind as a child with such statements I was often afraid my secret would be exposed, and I would be in some kind of trouble.  The demons would attack me or something horrible like that.

So, there were the secret voices whispering in my ear sometimes, always friendly, and often helpful and playful too. I would mostly hear a woman’s voice she was often with me, only recently in the past year have I come to know her again to be my guide whose name is Candance. Sometimes I would be playing, and a little girl’s voice would be with me and once and while I would hear a man’s voice sometimes and he would just say my name in a low voice in my ear. I always felt comfortable and safe, and they certainly didn’t seem very diabolical to me, as a child, so I kept these little secret voices to myself.

I remember once playing ‘Go Fish’ a card game with my sister, K, and how she would get mad at me and refused to play with me because she was sure I was cheating ‘cause I guessed all her cards so I would always win. I didn’t want to say that it was my secret friend whispering in my ear telling me what her cards were to pick and say, ‘Go Fish’ when she couldn’t guess mine. It was a little childish bit of fun for me at the time.

I remember often having troubling dreams that I didn’t understand. They would wake me and terrorize me in the night and my mother would come and comfort me. The images were very real, it’s very odd that even now as an adult I remember fractured pieces of these dreams. The imagery very frightening is something you never really forget. They were floating, pulsating, dark images that were surrounding me and attacking me like they were smothering me.

Before I continue, I should explain that I come from a very large family, but in this story, it is about ‘My’ mother, Clara, and when she and my father had six children together (let’s call this the first batch, okay) of which I am one. My father remarried very quickly after my mother Clara’s untimely death in May of 1969, and it was just December of 1969 only six months after my mother’s death, that he married again a very young woman named Irene (she was only 19) and she birthed another seven children with my father (the second batch, my half siblings) over the span of the next fourteen years or so.

It was around the time of my mother Clara’s last pregnancy with my youngest sister that I had another very troubling dream. My mom hadn’t planned this pregnancy because it was 5 years since my brother W was born and she thought that she was done with birthing, but I guess not, as she got pregnant one more time. I remember all my siblings and I being quite excited about another baby brother or sister arriving in the family.  My father built a custom wooden crib in our basement with his lathe and my mother sewn all the pillows and blankets that were specially made to match. There was so much excitement and anticipation for this new little one joining the family.

Around the last trimester of the pregnancy, however, my mother became very sick. She was tired and nauseous all day and needed to lie down often. I remember I was only eleven years old at the time and often helped my mom wherever I could and grew very worried about her health. It was around this time that I had probably one of my worst ever nightmares or night terrors, it was a dream about my mom dying. I don’t remember all the details of the dream, only that it seemed to show in vivid pictures a scene of my mom dying, and it immediately awakened me feeling very frightened, upset, crying for help. I ran to my parents’ room and through my tears pleading with my mom not to die. Please don’t die, I sobbed.  Of course, my mother did what any mother would and comforted me, held me, assured me that it was just a bad dream, that she was going to be okay. And then helped me go back into bed. And time went by, and mom seemed to feel better, and she gave birth to my baby sister, C, and all was well I thought. It was all just a bad dream of an anxious little girl.

It was late spring in May, just three months had gone by, and I was getting used to my new little baby sister C sharing my bedroom with me. I would often soothe her to sleep in the night when she cried by rubbing her back or picking her up and rocking her in the rocking chair until mom would arrive to feed her. Everything seemed to be wonderful to me at the time when I look back now through the eyes of a child. I loved my baby sister she was such a happy baby. I guess that’s why what happened next sent our entire family into a period of shock, tragedy, and despair. None of us were prepared for what was to happen next. Our perfectly happy family life was about to change very drastically. This was the dreadful day that I evolved from a happy little girl into a protective defensive Warrior.

Stay tuned as the Story continues in Part two….

A VIEWS EXPRESSED DISCLAIMER The following personal life accounts were accomplished by Tracy L. Thompson in her personal capacity according to her account of memory of times past. These points of view and opinions of accounts from memory are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of others in her extended family. Proper names have been changed to only one letter to protect their privacy. These stories are NOT Victim statements but given as examples for mainly those of the spiritual community or those of understanding. Thank you for your respect and kindness to others when reading these accounts in remembering that not all will be understanding or believing of these accounts.


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