Where's The Remote?

I think this happened about 3 years ago or so. This happened to my husband at the time when he was home alone. He is not a believer in the paranormal, even though he has experienced several things. He tends to justify them and shrug them off as odd. But this time it was strange enough that he couldn't just shrug it off.
    He was sitting on the couch watching TV and got up to get something out of the kitchen, when he came back in the living room he couldn't find the remote for the TV. He looked all over the house and even opened up the fridge to see if he placed it in there not thinking. After a while he gave up and resolved to just change the channels by hand. After sitting down again he heard a loud clash in the kitchen. When he walked back in he saw the remote sitting in the middle of the floor as if it had just been dropped there. There is no way that it could have fallen off any of the counters and slid because the middle of the kitchen is too far from any counters. 
    Many times in this house several people experienced the feeling of being watched or "not alone". At night I would keep our bedroom door open as it gave a perfect view of the hallway and our infant son's room. A few times I would see a dark shadow slide along the wall near the ceiling and linger at his door. I would say a prayer and tell it that he is protected by God and may not enter my son's room. It would linger for a long while at his door and either slide away back around the corner or other times just simply fade away and disappear. Always Keep Asking.

The Man

This is a post from another anonymous reader who sent me an email. Enjoy!


     We just had moved into our new house. It was the first night. I had my family, friends, and pastor unloading the truck. When they were done they left me to do all the unpacking. It was getting late so I was making dinner for the kids before putting them to bed. My oldest son came running up to me and said there was a man in his room. I thought did someone come in that I did not know about? So I went to his room to see who was in there. I did not see anybody, but I said you are not allowed in my children's room you need to leave. Then I went back to cooking. I put them to bed shortly after that. I went out to start unpacking the kitchen. I had boxes piled up all through out the living room and dinning room. I went to get another box and as I turned the corner I saw an old man in the hallway. I don't know why I thought he was old, but maybe it was his clothes or the way he stood? I did not feel my usual peace, as I normally only see loved ones; he scared me. Not in the sense that I was afraid he would hurt me, but because I did not recognize him. I called my roommate and told her we have a ghost in the house. She was a little freaked out, but said she would be there the next day. She said I am probably just too tired and stressed out. That was Saturday. On Monday morning the kids had their first day at school. We were getting our kids breakfast and my room mates daughter started talking about the "man". My roommate was in the shower so she did not hear the conversation the kids were having. But my middle boy started to cry and said he was afraid of the man. That the man stands in the hallway and stares at him. I asked her daughter not to talk about him anymore, that she was scaring the younger kids. When my roommate came out, her daughter started telling her mom about the "man". She had not fully believed me before now. Since then I have asked God to protect  us and not allow bad spirtits into my home. He still comes every so often. It seems that he wants to make sure the kids are safe. He just lingers in the hallway near their rooms, but never goes in them. And at night I feel something on my bed. But I do not think he is there to harm us. I do not know who he is, or what he wants. I am too afraid to ask. But I know there use to be an elderly couple that lived here before me... I wonder if he is looking for his wife.

The By Products...

Some days I just feel like I am being watched. I have found that it is hard for me to be around crowds now. When there are so many different conversations going on and so many lives intertwined; there are so many emotions that people carry with themselves. I tend to find myself overwhelmed and I draw into myself and become quiet and antisocial. I am not sure why this is exactly but I am wondering if anyone else feels this way. When you allow yourself to become open, there are sometimes things that effect you that you are not expecting. I am assuming this is one aspect of that. Sometimes I get flashes of pictures, such as once when I walked into the bathroom, I pictured someone dead and bleeding, other times as I walk through the house in the dark to get a drink of water in the night I have had a vision of tripping over a body on the floor. In these circumstances I simply say "no" out loud. It may not be very loud, but it is verbalized none the less. I tell it that it is not accepted in my house and that it must leave. I am not sure what it is that makes me see those images or perhaps it is possibly my own over-active imagination and nothing more. But what I do know is that I am in control and so are you. Know who you are and know what you will tolerate your own mind to see and experience. You have the power to tell things to leave. You have the authority to take charge of your home and protect your family. My three year old told me once that there was a man in his room who called his name. When he answered "what?" the man got in his face. I told him if anything like that ever happened again to tell it "No!" and to tell it to go away, that is it not welcome and cannot be here. Since then he has not said anything else to me.

Hi everyone! Please don't be shy. If you have an experience you'd like to share, email me @ ParanormalTrigger@gmail.com and I will post it for you. Also please send any questions or comments that you don't want to share on the wall here. Thank you! And always keep asking...
~Britt

Ready or Not?

About two months ago I was talking with my friend when an overwhelming emotion came over me. It was very loving but also concerned. It was not a feeling of being possessed, just a quieting of my own thoughts and sitting back and listening to myself speak. His mother had also passed away about a year after mine did. She told him to stop holding on to the things he blamed himself for. To stop remembering them every day and how that wasn’t healthy. I felt the urgency of her need for him to understand and let go. I felt her worry and her strong love as his mother. It was odd for me to feel that toward my friend, but once she had said what she wanted to I felt normal again. No weird transition or feeling of not having control over my body. I believe if I had wanted to fight it, the battle would have been easy for me, but it was something that was needed and again, the choice. Willing and able; I knew he needed to hear what she had to say. I was worried he’d freak out if I told him who really said that, but at the same time I felt that it would have more impact and meaning considering I was physically saying things I really had no idea about. I knew her words to him would carry a much greater value then my own. I did end up telling him and he took it well. He had to let everything sink in by himself for a while, but in that situation I think anyone else would have done the same. Always Keep Asking…

-Britt

The Guardian

Going back a little bit (because this was really before I ever communicated with anyone and I didn't really know what I believed yet) Nearly five years ago I moved to South Carolina to live with my fiancé before we got married. There was a presence in his room in the corner near the door. It comes at the same time every night (between 1-3am, except for day light savings, then it is 2-4am, so its assumed this "thing" lived before day light savings was invented). Everyone who has ever stayed in that room has experienced feeling it. You know exactly where it is and feel like you are being watched, however at this time no one had talked about it until I started asking questions. One night as we were laying in bed I felt it again and drew my eyes over to the corner of the room where it usually is, this time however was different. It was sitting cross legged on the floor near the bed looking up at me. It frightened me so much that I flung the covers over my head and drew up into my fiancé's back. It was a dark charcoal grey and had the body of a man (approximately in his 20's to 30's I'd guess) but I couldn't tell you what he looked like because he didn't have a face. There was the "appearance" of a face with shadows but no real facial characteristics. A few nights later I woke up in the middle of the night and felt him again, only this time a torso with a mist for legs was hovering over the foot of our bed. Again, same reaction; covers and back. I finally said something to his family at that point and that was when we all learned that there was indeed something or someone in that house. None of them had even mentioned it to each other at that point. I am assuming it thinks it is a guardian of the family and that it was only "checking me out" and learning of my intentions. The reason I believe this is because not long after, we got pregnant and I never saw him again. His presence in the room was less powerful and I believed he had no intention of scaring me, especially being pregnant. 

The Helping Hand

I have had several other experiences but I am not sure where to go from here while waiting on pending compliances about other stories. One I can share with you that happened about two months ago. I just moved across the country and I was house sitting for my sister. I put the kids to bed in the guest room and was laying on my sisters bed trying to quiet my mind of the anxieties and thoughts that had been keeping me awake since last October. As I lay there with my eyes closed thinking how badly I wished my mom were still here and how I had not anticipated that coming home would be such an adjustment for me, nearly as hard as it had been moving away in the beginning. I lay on the bed with my arms over my head and felt a hand slide into my own. It startled me so much that I actually thought someone had walked into the apartment and I had not heard them come in. I yanked my hand back and shot up looking around, but no one was there. I could not have even mistaken it for the hand of my son or daughter because it was adult sized. It was literally as though someone was standing at the side of the bed, reached over and held my hand. I was slightly uneasy, however I cannot say that fear truly entered my mind. I don't believe it was my mother or my brother, but perhaps an angel? I will most likely never know, but at that moment, someone somehow knew that I needed support and in that way I knew I would never truly be alone. As always, keep asking. The answers will come if we want them badly enough and seek with endurance because this road is very very long. There will always be friends with helping hands and others like-minded will share in your journey with you. You are never alone.

Hello There, Please Don't Do That Again

A few months after we moved into our new house, the kids were down for naps and I was hanging up clothes in our walk in closet. My husband was in the military so there are combat boots and gear all over the house. He also had a pair on the top shelf of our closet (which I myself could not reach). As I was hanging clothes I was just thinking over all that had to be done that day when suddenly the boots lifted off the shelf about an inch of so and dropped back down. I froze with fear, but I decided that this is my house and be it friendly or not, that was not acceptable. I have rules when it comes to things of this nature, because to be honest it does still frighten me. My home is my sanctuary and even the good things do not take place inside my house (hence the conversation in my car and the restroom at work). I decided not to be afraid but to acknowledge it and stand my ground. I said something along the lines of, "Good morning. I know that was you. I don't like those things so please don't do that again." Two years later and not another single incident (a side from the windows wanting to keep opening a crack, but I have not completely ruled that one out as the pressure within the house yet, so that doesn't count) :) Always keep asking!
-Britt

The Visitor

Nearly 2 years ago we had just built our first home and I gave birth to our second child; a daughter whom we named in memory of my mother. In the hospital I had complications giving birth. I knew my husband was holding my right hand and was standing by my right shoulder and I felt my mother-in-law holding my left hand and standing at my left side. After I had my daughter they rushed her into intensive care because she had fluid in her lungs and they had my husband go with her. This served two purposes, because they would not let him back in the room since they could not get my bleeding under control. I felt myself getting weak and tired; I was scared because no one would look me in the eyes. I kept telling myself I had to make sure my daughter was alright and I could not feel happy until I knew she was okay. They finally got things under control and moved me to another room where I got to hold her for the first time. Everyone let me rest for a while and I was in a daze as I was feeding her. I was talking with someone who was sitting in a chair at the end of my bed while I was holding my daughter. We had about a 20 minute conversation and I remember feeling very happy. My daughter sneezed and it jolted me more awake. I looked up and felt disoriented. "Wasn't there a chair at the end of my bed?" "Wasn't I talking with someone for a long while?" I felt confused as I tried to remember who I was talking to and where the chair went. I realized I was talking with my mom. I wish I could recall the conversation but I am sure it was filled with much love. A few weeks later, after things had settled, I spoke to my mother-in-law about the event. We talked about the delivery room and she said she thought about holding my other hand but for some reason felt that she shouldn't and that she had been near the midwife during the delivery in the hospital room. "Then who was holding my other hand?" We looked at each other and both knew; my Mom. Always keep asking.
-Britt

God's Grace

This post comes from another anonymous reader. I have left it just as it was sent to me via email. Enjoy and always keep asking.
I was 11 when my Grandma Grace passed away. My Dad had taken my brother and I to go see her one last time. She was very ill with congenitive heart failure, and even the slightest movement hurt her badly. Dad told my brother who was only 7 to say goodbye. He said see ya later and left her room. I went over and knowing this was my last time kissed her fuzzy cheeck and told her I loved her and I wanted to be like her when I grew up. She said she loved me but was ready to go be with Grandpa Ernie. That night while I was sleeping I suddenly woke up. I saw my Grandma in my room. I felt an overwhelming sense of love and safety seeing her there. She walked to sit next to me on my bed. She gently touched my cheeck and said she loved me. She said you have to be strong for your Mom and Dad, don't cry for me. I am going to be with Grandpa and there is no pain. She said God is real and he loves you. I will always watch out for you. Be kind to your brother, you're his sister and you have to protect him. I told her I would do my best and that I loved her. Then she was gone. I was not ever sad or scared. Just blissfully happy and felt extremely loved. A feeling of love that I have never came close to feeling again. It poured over my body relaxing everything. The next morning I went upstairs to get breakfast. I casually told my Dad that Grandma Grace had passed away. I told him that she does not want him to cry for her. He was so angry that I would "make up" a story like that. He told me to eat breakfast and go to my room. While I was eating my cereal the phone rang. It was the home that she was living at. They told my Dad that Grandma had passed away that night. He never spoke with me about it again. But her one last goodbye helped heal pain in my heart. I never did cry about loosing her. I held my parents at her funeral and let their tears stream down their face. I was angry with everyone for crying because she had asked us not to. She was not hurting and at the time I could not understand why everyone could not just be as happy for her as I was. I have not seen her since that night. But I know that she is with my Grandpa and Jesus in heaven.

Sorry, Wrong Number

     One of the things I have learned the hard way about communicating with people is that every person has their own energy; their own "feeling". I don't know the exact terminology for it but I call it their spiritual imprint. Every individual, living and "dead" has an energy pattern that is as unique to them as their physical finger prints. The love that you feel for your mother, your father, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings (male and female), your children and friends. You love them all. That is very real, but if you sat and thought about it, each love is different and unique. In this same way when you try to communicate with some individuals it comes naturally and has a high success rate because you already know them and what it feels like to be talking with them (even if you've only met once).
       One day my coworker's mother passed away due to an illness. She was very close with her and I wanted to help her. I asked what her mother's name was (for this post I will call her Jane Smith). I tried to talk with her mother and received a message that talked about her brother and the concern the mother had for his emotional state and how he was dealing with the death. I asked my coworker if she had a brother. She said no. It was then that I realized that merely having a name would not cut it. How many Jane Smiths are there and have there been in the world? Do you see my point? It is possible to receive transmissions from the wrong person if you have no spiritual imprint to go off of. It posed a question in my mind and made things start to make a little sense. I, for one, have never believed in psychics (before you get offended I know that some are real, please read on). I thought they were people who were really good at psychology and preyed on individuals who were vulnerable and seeking answers for whatever is ailing them. Sometimes you hear on TV a psychic will ask an individual to bring with them something that had belonged to their loved one and from this they are able to communicate. It is because a part of them is imprinted on that object and can help to identify the right person. I also believe that a bit of caution should also be used with this theory though. The longer someone has been gone, the less their physical object back here truly mean to them. However, the love that people have for each other is something that never fades. I have not received permission to share the story of how I learned this yet, but I can tell you that it is just as effective (often times MORE effective) to use the individual themselves instead of an object and have them concentrate on their loved one. Have them think about them and remember them and just take a moment to lose themselves in the fond memories they shared with them. They will then bring to life the spiritual imprint, or energy, and you are able to sort of "tap into" that energy and recognize that the person you are speaking with is truly the intended one. 
       Others have said that slightly detailed information will also help narrow down the individuals and achieve a higher success rate by identifying the relationship between them (i.e. Jack Smith who was married to Jane Smith) the possibility of multiple relationships with those exact names is significantly lowered. However nothing is ever 100% due to many many factors. Some to include; who you are and your confidence level, who the person asking for your help is and their true intentions, the free will of the individual you are seeking out and of course the will of God and what is truly beneficial or would actually do more damage than good. There is such a thing as knowing too much and at times it can be damaging to a persons psyche. All these factors need to be remembered when experiences have low success rates. It helps you to take a step back and reevaluate what you are doing and why. Always Keep Asking.

Muddy River

       The second experience I had with communicating with those who have gone before us was just shy of the one year marker of my step brother's death. His best friend was driving under the influence and hit a tree. My mother-in-law asked me if I could also speak with him. I had not tried again in nearly a year. My entire view of what I believed was real and possible had shattered at its foundation and I struggled with this and feared for "doors I could not close" and what that might bring into my life and my home. I discussed my anxieties with a close friend of mine who claims to speak to her relatives quite regularly (perhaps a story for another day). She explained to me that my fears were true and that if I was not careful I could invite something "evil" into my world. However, she offered words of comfort and peace to me as she went on to explain that God is in control of these doors and that by going through Him and not by myself, that He was the one who was opening these doors and likewise He alone closes them, thus protecting me from any accidental "intrusions".
       I meditated on this and prayed asking for his covering and blessing. I also asked my step brother's friend for his free will; if he so chose to comply. I began with the first question, so familiar to me now, "What would you like for me to tell your family?" I waited in silence in a quiet bathroom stall at work while I was on break. Nothing. 
       I began to think about him and the memories made me "feel" his presence again. This time it was different. I did not receive any message of words, but rather a vision of a muddy river bed where the stream came into a still pool before slowly spilling into the slow moving river and dirty sand covered the shores. These are common to see in many places in South Carolina where we lived. Not far from the small river was a house. It was white with two stories and a decent sized yard. Not much of anything was particularly interesting on the property aside from its distance to the tree line which led to the muddy water. I wasn't sure if what I was seeing was his version of Heaven, where he was "recovering" and happy or if this was a real place. Again, I asked another key question, "How will they know that this is really you?" I could only make out two words, "my cat." Now, being the person I am, I assumed he had lost a cat as a child and was now reacquainted with it where he was, but I am always careful never to give others my personal opinion because it could completely ruin the meaning. Since I am only human I cannot possibly know the significance of even the smallest detail. Therefore information, odd or not and sometimes not even complete, I try to relay it just as I receive it.
     I told my mother-in-law what I had received and she kept it to herself, only to find out a few days later that he had been planning on building a house in a location very similar to my description. As for the cat, he had left it behind when he died... More often then not, I wish there were more answers and more closure. In this situation there may have been had the family been told, but my mother-in-law chose not to share it with them for fear of people approaching me and asking for my help. With my gift still in its infantcy this seemed like the safest option. Yet again, another choice. Maybe some day I will feel the need to share this with his family...we shall see.

Goodbye Grandpa

This story comes from a new reader in Oregon. She requested to remain anonymous.

       When I was pregnant with my first child, my grandpa got really sick, so sick that hospice had to step in. At the time I was working as a hairdresser and I could set my own hours at the salon. When I was not working I would spend as much time as I could with him.  I was not ready for him to leave and I asked him to please hold on until I had my son so that he could hold him before he left us.

       He said he would try, but that God had a plan and it might not work out that way... The day before he passed, he got a really high fever. His hospice nurse told me I had to tell him that it was ok to let go. It was the hardest thing I had ever done, but I knew I had to overcome my own sadness, because he deserved better. I whispered in his ear, "Let go Grandpa. I will be ok and I promise this child will hear stories about you!" He passed away that night. I woke up to the phone ringing and they gave me the news. I went straight over. Once we had laid him on the stretcher, I got my first contraction. I tried to keep quiet because they were not very close together. I waited at the house until the hospice nurse arrived. She took me into the other room and asked if I was alright. I explained that I believed I was in labor. She looked at me smiling sweetly and said, "That baby was waiting for a spirit."

       I had  my son a few days later; it was a very long labor. The first night that I was home, I was devastated that my husband made me put our son to bed in his own room. I heard him crying and got up to feed and change him. When I walked into the room, my grandpa was standing next to the crib looking at my son and my son was looking right back at him. It didn't occur to me that I should be afraid and because of this I was able to appreciate seeing my grandpa and their union. I was thrilled that he got to meet my son! I reached to pick him up and my grandpa grabbed my arm and looked me in the eye saying, "You're doing a good job. I'm proud of you." I turned to sit down and feed my son and had a sudden realization of what had just happened; he was gone and I was sublimely happy.

       I waited a long time before I told anyone because I was fearful that no one would believe me. Finally I broke down and shared my story with my grandma. She smiled at me and shared how he had come to her as well and thanked her for caring for him and told her how much he loved her.All in all, he visited my mother, my aunt, my grandma and I to say goodbye.

My First 'Real' Story

      I had just lost my mom and 10 year old brother, about a year later suddenly my step brother and his girlfriend too. I called my dad crying and told him what happened. He asked me what made me sad the most about losing my brother. I told him that there were things I wanted to say to him. My dad told me to believe that my step brother could hear me and to go ahead and tell him everything that was on my heart and while I was at it try to talk with his girlfriend too. I felt foolish, but it did make me feel better. I walked outside (I felt uncomfortable doing it in my house) and look straight out into the backyard and believed he was there and could hear me. Later, as I was driving I decided to talk with his girlfriend, Samantha who I had only met once; the night they died. I asked Samantha, "What do you want me to tell your parents?" knowing I'd never see them... A thought came into my head and said, "That I love them and I am ok." Skeptical, I said, "Well...that is what I would want to say to my family too, but how will they know that it is you and not just a thought I made up?" knowing that Samantha was an only child I was confused when I became overwhelmed with an emotion of urgent love for biological brothers. Specifically male, this love I could relate having my own biological brothers and sisters. I said ok and that was the end of that. I called my mother-in-law and asked her if Samantha had any brothers or sisters. The result was inconclusive, but assumed no. I had the opportunity to go early to Samantha's viewing and felt a strong and urgent desire to be there. I was told her family would not be present but we could pay our last respects to her. When we arrived I learned that her mother was there and my heart flew up into my throat. I had two choices. 1) I could pay my respects and leave and never have to think of this again, but always wonder what could have been or 2) I could face my fears and tell Samantha's mom that I thought I had spoken to her daughter and relay her message. After painful deliberation I decided I may never see them again and no matter what, if it were my daughter I would want to know. I gathered the courage to approach her mom and asked if I could speak with her in private. I was terrified. What if she didn't believe me? What if she thought I was a horrible person and why would I say such a thing to her? But I had made up my mind and I told her. The only trouble was, I was so scared that I spoke so softly she had to ask me to repeat myself! Again, I mustered up the strength to look her in the chin and tell her my story. When I looked up at her she had tears in her eyes. "Oh crap!" I told myself...and I wondered if she would be angry. A man came to her side and took a protective posture over her. She looked at him and back at me and asked me to tell him what I had just told her. For a third time I told him my story, this time able to look both of them in the eyes. Without missing a beat, Samantha's mom introduced the man as one of Samantha's many brothers. I had assumed she was an only child because of her characteristics, but it was because she was not only the only girl in her immediate family, but also the only girl in our whole generation for her family. Countless cousins, all male gave Samantha the characteristics of an only child. Samantha's mom continued to explain that she had prayed and begged God for someone, anyone to just tell her something. She just needed to know that her daughter was ok. 

    That day I made a choice. We are all given choices every single day and we are the only ones who can use what we have to help others, even if it is just to bring peace and comfort for a moment. Will you have the courage to face the odds and walk in the truth?

Please feel free to email me with your stories and I will post them on here (you may remain anonymous if you'd like). Also become a follower and post comments on the stories and feel free to share your stories that way as well. There are so many people who need to know they are not alone and are trying to understand what they are dealing with. Keep Asking. -Britt

About the blog

Hi Everyone,
   I just wanted to take a moment and explain why I created this blog. I have been searching for years to find people like me. I know they are out there and on many different levels, but I am still having a very hard time getting several opinions and experiences together. This is not a sight for discussion; however opposing opinions have a right to be posted so long as they are not out of spite, immaturity or lacking in common sense. :) With that said, I want to give you a general idea of who I am. I am not someone who was born necessarily with the ability to speak to people who are no longer living among us. This is something that happened to me about 3 years ago when I was searching for answers after several members of my family started passing away in car accidents. Now it is an ever-growing part of my life that I am trying to understand and control. I would like to be able to use this gift to help people. But I want to hear your stories too. What have you experienced? What have you learned? What equipment (if any) do you find helpful and how long have you noticed your gifts?
  Keep Asking. -Britt