“I’m pretty sure my house in Florida is haunted! He’s a nice ghost though”.
Ariana Grande
An abandoned farmhouse stood in the heart of the countryside, where fields stretched as far as the eye could see and the whispers of the wind danced through the trees.
Its weathered facade bore witness to decades of neglect, yet its walls held secrets buried deep within.
I live in a tiny community that has just under 5,000 people.
I have lived here since 2008, and I can tell you that there is a lot of paranormal activity around here.
My home, for instance, is an older farmhouse with the same family ownership for over since it was built in 1935, until the former owner passed on in the house.
Over the years, I found many glass bottles buried in the backyard. Soda, whiskey, dairy, a glass lotion bottle, and a one-gallon clear glass finger hole jug still in one piece. After researching, I found that most bottles range from the 1930s to the 60s.
Former Owner of The Haunted Farmhouse
Mrs. Hall was an African-American woman whose Uncle or father had built this house in 1935. Mrs. Hall’s husband died in the late 70s, meaning that Mrs. Hall had probably lived alone for several decades.
Being an empath, I pick up on subtle energy variations around me. I can feel a person’s mood, object, or place. So when I finally had a little alone time in my new home, I immediately began to “feel it out.”
What I mainly felt were feelings of sadness.
It was a very lonely feeling, which would make sense because Mrs. Hall was probably alone towards the end of her life, and the house had been vacant for over a year after she passed away.
Homes, as well as people, emit energy. So, I don’t know if I was picking up the residual energy left from Mrs. Hall or if it was the home’s energy that I was feeling.
My house, the one next to it, and the one next to that were all owned by the same family.
The land where I live was given to freed slaves, and naturally, they built their little community on the land given to them in the 1800s.
Most of the original families had died or moved away, but I have been privileged enough to have met some of the original descendants.
A cousin of Mrs. Hall, whose house was at one time next to mine, was demolished after she passed away, and two large brand new homes were built on her property.
To the left of the two new homes built is a tiny house with wood shingles, very close to the main road that is still abandoned.
It’s kind of sad to see it there abandoned and neglected. The abandoned home was also once owned by a relative of Mrs. Hall.
My house sat on the market for a year before I bought it, and it was being sold “as is,” which is code for – it needs a lot of work. So, before my family could move in, I had to renovate the house.
Related: A Ghostly Encounter On A Farm
Renovating The Haunted Farmhouse
This meant being alone here many, many late nights in the old farmhouse. It took me almost two months of working daily before my family could move in. Remember that I had lived in a townhouse surrounded by many people before moving to my current location.
I rented a 30-yard roll-off dumpster that sat in my driveway during the beginning phase of the renovation. I filled the entire dumpster in less than a month.
The basement was full of items like an old-school Maytag Ringer washing machine, a workbench, old wooden drawers for tools and small work items, tables, chairs, and more.
My house sits on an acre and a quarter of land (the size of a football field), and woods surround three sides.
Across the street from my house is an old AME (African Methodist Episcopal) church that has been there since the 1800s, and there is a Cemetery behind it. I thought Mrs. Hall was buried there, but later, I discovered she was buried at another A.M.E. church just down the road.
So here I am, working late at night in an unfamiliar area; I don’t know anyone yet, there’s a cemetery across the street, and I am an empath in an older, spooky home filled with mice and spiders in dire need of restoration.
So, I was working in the basement one evening, and out of the blue, I got this heavy feeling in my chest. I wanted to ensure that it wasn’t from being tired or drinking too much coffee.
I went outside to get some fresh air, and I was fine. So, after getting some fresh air, I returned to work in the basement. When I get down there, I feel this heavy feeling again in my chest.
Now, my paranormal senses are on overload. I have these energetic shifts in my body, and my mind freaks out, wanting to know what is happening.
So, I begin to calm myself by taking some deep breaths and using acupressure points on my arm. Finally, I began to sense some balance in myself.
So, I began to calm myself by taking some deep breaths and using acupressure points on my arm.
Finally, I began to sense some balance in myself when suddenly, the freaking power went out. I kid you not. If you know anything about empaths, you know they are notorious for being overly emotional and sensitive.
An empath is better known as a “psychic sponge.” We absorb everything that comes to us, whether positive or negative.
Since I was still relatively new in this home, my psychic antenna was highly tuned, and I probably picked up a bunch of energy that was disturbed while renovating my new house.
When a home sits empty on the market for an extended period, as mine did, the residual energy in the house settles as dust settles after shaking out a dirty rug.
Well, all of my cleanings, ripping out, repairing, and moving must have disturbed the energy in my home. It is a well-known fact that most hauntings occur after the reconstruction of a house.
Especially in an older home like this one with lots of history. Empaths are known for riding past streetlights and causing the power to burn out of them.
I would recommend learning to ground yourself if you are notorious for having the lights go out when you are in a highly aroused state. So here I am with no power. I remember where the circuit breaker is, but I am unsure if it works.
I walk to the circuit box, bumping and tripping over stuff in the basement.
I eventually find the panel and open it up. I begin to fumble for the switches, resetting them one by one, and in the back of my mind, I think that when I turn the power back on, who or what will be standing behind me?
I eventually reset the right one, and the power is back in the basement. I slowly turned around, and there was nothing there. “Phew,” I think to myself. I better call it a day.
One of Many Bizarre Dreams in This House
While working at my house, I would often take a nap there. I am a notoriously hard worker and usually put goals ahead of taking care of myself. I know it is not too bright, but I am improving.
My house is not very big, and after doing research online, I discovered that my home is a 1935 Sears Catalog home kit or a replica of one—the Cornell, Davenport, or Haven style.
It is a three-bedroom bathroom farmhouse with a big front porch and a smaller back porch.
The first room I had prepared after the bathroom in My house was a small 12×12 addition that I affectionately call the “TV” room.
The TV room walls are knotty pine, and I replaced the ceiling and installed a new carpet. Our bed was in there at once, and my wife and my son slept there while the rest of the house was restored.
When my wife was working and my son was in school, I decided to nap. Yes, it is a guilty pleasure of mine that I don’t utilize enough.
Many times, especially during the past decade, I would have these lucid dream-type experiences. I am unsure that Lucid is the correct term for what I experienced, but I will call it that for simplicity’s sake.
I know I am dreaming when I have these dreams, yet I do not see with my eyes because they are closed.
I see with my mind or, more correctly, the “third eye chakra.” So here I am, taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon, and I “wake up” while sleeping.
I can see the room I am sleeping in precisely as it is, except that I am asleep. This isn’t one of my “normal dreams,” where I am someplace unfamiliar with unknown people.
In this dream, I was in my home; it was daylight, and the picture on the wall and the coffee table were precisely the same.
Knowing this is a dream, I decide to get up and explore.
I flow out of the TV room (by the way, when these types of dreams happen, I do not see my body; it’s more like I am consciousness floating around) and go into the living room, which has a brick fireplace to the right as you walk out of the TV room.
To the left of the fireplace is a tiny 3′ x 3′ nook with a little bookshelf and a small window overlooking the house’s side yard.
I moved toward the small nook’s direction and saw a young woman as clear as day. I would describe her as Native American or Hispanic, shorter than me, perhaps about 5’1″, with long black hair.
She appeared to be in her late teens to early twenties. She gazed out the window as if waiting for someone or wanting to go outside. She noticed me looking at her and turned toward me as if to see who I was.
Her face looked sad, and she looked at me for what seemed like one or two seconds, and then she went back to looking out the window again. I woke up instantly after that, and of course, the first thing that I did was walk over to the nook area.
Nobody was there, but I had to check on a side note. I have a Victorian-era chair in that nook now, and I don’t know if it is mental or what, but I feel uncomfortable sitting there.
It is a shame because it is the perfect place to read a book, especially while the fireplace is lit.
Don’t go yet. About three-quarters of a mile down the street from me is a haunted B&B. Read that article next if you dare!
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