About a week or so after the paranormal investigation at our home, things began slowly getting back to normal. The spirits settled down, the kids bought into my whole "it was all just for fun" story, and I started sleeping with the TV and the lights off again. Only every once in a while do I get creeped out now.
Oddly enough, the one part of the house that still really bothers me is the bathroom. (And not just because it's disgusting due to the fact that I live with five boys.) For some reason, when I walk into the bathroom at night and all the lights are off and it's pitch black, it terrifies me. I start scrambling in the dark to flip the light switch on, which of course makes it that much harder for me to find. My heart starts pounding so hard, you'd think I was locked in the basement with our grumpy man ghost and the incinerator. But the bathroom? The investigators didn't find anything in the bathroom. Then again, they didn't really investigate in there, either.
The other night, I was making one of several middle of the night pee runs (my bladder is seriously ridiculous), and I was too tired to even bother to turn the bathroom light on. I was so out of it that when I first heard the sigh/moan of a child, I thought one of my kids was outside the bathroom door, trying to get my attention. It was very loud, unmistakable, and distinct. It was a little "mmmm" like they wanted my attention, but were too tired to speak. But. My kids weren't home. And the bathroom door wasn't closed. And the noise wasn't coming from outside it. It was coming from inside the bathroom, in the corner. I jumped up so fast, I'm surprised I didn't get pee on myself. (TMI, I know...but it adds to the humor of the situation.) I bolted out of the bathroom, almost crashing head first into the wall at the end of the hallway. I raced into the much-brighter-than-the-bathroom kitchen to wash my hands, then hurried back to my bedroom, buried myself under the covers, and cuddled up next to my husband.
He woke up just long enough to ask me what was wrong. I told him I'd heard a noise in the bathroom. He jumped up, still half asleep, ready for battle. I tried to explain to him that there wasn't anyone "real" in the bathroom, and that I didn't need him to go running in there like a bat out of hell to protect me. I'm pretty sure the only part he heard was "you don't have to go in there," and he was back asleep. And I was terrified. I never fell back to sleep after that.
Last night, while we were sitting on the couch catching up on our DVR'd shows for the week, I told my husband about what had happened in the bathroom the night before. Before he could respond, the door to an antique Army ammo crate we use as a display piece came unlatched and flying open. Not creaking open, not swinging open, but bursting open. With force. I turned to my husband, who was staring in disbelief. "You see?!" I squealed. It's funny how, even after all the things that have happened, I still feel like people think I'm crazy when I talk about our house being haunted. Even my husband. "Did you see that?!" I asked again. He let out a long sigh and shook his head. "Yep. I saw it." Validation. I shouldn't need it, but I do.
I'm not sure what's caused the surge in "activity" over the past few days or how long it's going to last, but I don't know if my nerves can take it. Maybe it's because I rearranged the furniture and got out the Christmas decorations. Or maybe it's the time of year. This is going to be our first Christmas in the house, so I don't really know what to expect from our "housemates." Maybe the spirits are just getting into the holiday spirit.
