True Mystic Experiences
by Danyel Boone
I grew up in Rochester, New York. When I was a child, my family thought our house was haunted. There were many reasons for this. We heard sounds in the middle of the night, had visions of what were thought to be ghosts, and felt certain sensations in different rooms of the house.
I had some encounters with these strange happenings as well, but there is one incident that I remember best. When I was about five years old, I had dreams of voices calling me to the attic. Sometimes there was more than one voice, but there was always one that stood out the most. It sounded like a man’s voice. It was very deep, and instead of being scared of it, I felt a lot of comfort when I heard it.
One night I dreamed of the same voices calling me up to the attic as usual, but this time, I acted on what they wanted me to do. In my dream, I got out of bed and went to the attic door, which was in the corner of my bedroom. I opened the attic door. It was night time, but it wasn’t dark enough to obscure my vision.
There was a window on the left side of the staircase that went into the attic. It was broken, and there was a clear plastic bag covering it. I climbed up the stairs of the attic. They were warped and all broken up. When I reached the attic, I noticed that it was small, and it smelled musty. We never used it, so whatever was up there had been up there for many years. The wood floor of the attic was rotten, and a lot of the floor boards were missing. Still hearing the voices calling me, I saw hands coming out of where the floor boards were absent. This must have startled me, because I woke up.
The next morning I told my mother of my experience. She told me that I ¬shouldn’t be scared, and she brought me to the attic to prove it. I was a little wary of going in again, but I did it anyway. As we walked up the stairs to the attic, I noticed that everything was the same as it was in my dream—even the broken window. The only thing missing was the ghosts. I was amazed.
After that I had dreams of the voices calling me about once a week, and eventually they faded away. But never again did I go into the attic in my dreams. Now that I am older, I believe that this was my first out-of-body experience.—Rochester, N.Y.