Ghost in the Valley

I grew up in the San Fernando Valley in the late 60's and 70's - that swingin' movie-star place that people don't usually associate with hauntings.

My parents bought our home just months after I was born in 1963.  It wasn't a very old house at that time, as it was built in 1952.  It was lovely and spacious and well-built, and I was very lucky to have grown up in such a nice house.  My father had some remodeling done, and had a pool built.  It was the ultimate Southern California mid-century home. But it held a dark secret.


As a young child, I was constantly aware of a presence that I couldn't quite put my finger on.  I felt watched by this presence every day of my life, as far back as I can remember (which is a long way, I have a good early childhood memory).  What's more, I constantly saw wisps of black out of the corner of my eye.  Although it could happen anywhere in the house, it usually occurred when I was in my room, looking at a toy or a book.  I would see what appeared to be a person dressed in black fleet silently past my doorway in the hall.  Then I'd look, and nothing would be there.  Nothing was ever there.

Even though I grew up with this phenomenon, I never got comfortable with it.  Especially when things changed at about age 5 or 6.  At this time, I began hearing a man breathing in the dark when I was trying to sleep.  When I first heard it, I ran into my parent's bedroom and told them about it, but they said it was just my imagination, and to go back to bed.  I had to lie there in the dark, half petrified and hiding under the covers, as I heard a man breathing just a few feet away from me.  On one occasion, I was lying awake and became aware of the breathing.  I suddenly realized that the breathing was synched up with mine, which was different than other times.  So I held my breath and it stopped.  When I resumed breathing, so did the unseen man.  Needless to say, I was terrified and losing sleep most of my childhood.  I brought it up with my parents many times, but they always said the same exact thing - it was just my imagination, go back to bed.

I remember one specific night when I was about 7 that really stands out.  I woke up in the middle of the night, and in the darkness, I saw someone standing in the doorway - but not all black, and not fleeting away.  This time, I saw the clear outline of a person, but hazy - and strangely, a softly glowing dark pink.  My mother had a dark pink, filmy chiffon nightgown, so at first I thought it might be her.  I said, "Mom?" - but there was no answer.  So I stared at it, and I assume it was staring back at me.  I realized that the entire thing was pink, from head to toe, and couldn't be my mother in her short summer nightgown.  I was shivering cold even though it was a warm night.   I didn't call to my parents because I already knew what they would say.  Eventually, slowly, I fell back into sleep, and never saw the pink apparition again.

As I got older and transitioned into a young teen, I learned to keep my door shut all of the time.  I realized that I only saw these things in doorways.  If I kept my door closed, at least I wouldn't see the dark shadows that constantly haunted my peripheral vision.  But then new things started happening - I began missing things I had left on my dresser or on a shelf.  I remember saying out loud, to an empty room "Whoever took my things better give them back now!"  Later, the things were returned to their right spots.  This was a game that the presence continued to play with me for a long time.  At this point, I had long ceased trying to tell my parents about my experiences.  They just happened, and life went on.

The winter of my 15th year was remarkable.  We had several storms that year, which dumped a lot of rain on Southern California.  I'm sure it was an El Nino winter, but I don't remember anyone calling it by that name back then.  One night there was an especially vicious storm, with thunder and lightening and strong gusty winds driving the rain onto my windowpanes.  It was too difficult for me to sleep with the lightening and thunder and noise.  I had my cat sleeping next to me, as usual. Suddenly, he leapt up, facing the foot of my bed, with his fur standing up.  I saw exactly what he was reacting to - there, looming over me, was the ghost.  My mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out.  I was frightened stiff!  The ghost was all black, in the shape of a man wearing a fedora hat - but I couldn't see any features of his face.  He leaned over the foot of my bed, inching closer.  His hazy outline becoming a bit more defined, I could see him wringing his hands in dismay.  I felt he was very distraught, I remember that clearly.  All I could do was squeeze my eyes shut.  I kept thinking, "Go away, you're scaring me!"  I couldn't speak and I was shivering with fright.  Outside the lightening and thunder raged on, but slowly I felt my cat relax, and I felt the warmth coming back into my limbs.  I dared to peek out from under one eyelid, and the ghost was gone.  The next day at school, all the kids were talking about the mighty storm of the night before.  I didn't mention what I saw to anyone.  And the strangest part?  I never saw the ghost again.  That was the last time I experienced any paranormal activity in that house.

Fast forward to my late 20's.  I was living in Hawaii at this point, and the house had long been sold.  My father had passed away, and I came home to mourn with my sister and mother.  At one point we were talking about the old house, and my sister said "And you know that house was haunted."  I had never talked about the ghost with my sister, because she was several years older than me, and she moved away when I was still fairly young.  I was surprised and said, "Yes it was, and Mom, you never believed me."  She then surprised me further by saying "Yes, I know it was.  I just didn't want to scare you when you were little."  I was pretty shocked - she knew all along about the ghost and never acknowledged it.  Then we all started telling our ghost stories, about what we had seen and experienced.  When I started to tell the story of that stormy night, my mother knew exactly the night I was talking about.  It was so easy to remember because of the noteworthy storm, and because I knew exactly how old I was at the time.  When I was finished telling what happened, she picked up the story from there.  She said she was also awake, and that the ghost came into her bedroom, and began pacing at the foot of my parents' bed.  She said it came closer to her than she had ever seen before, and she also felt the deep anxiety emanating from him.  She said she'd had enough, that it was the last straw.  She sat up in bed and said in a firm voice, "You don't belong here, you're dead.  You need to go into the light now."  The ghost stayed still and she repeated herself a few times.  He slowly, gradually faded away.  And that is why I never saw him again.  My mother sent him into the light.

My sister and I talk regularly about the ghost now.  It's a shared experience that no one else really understands.  And what's more, after my mother passed away, my sister and I were together when Mom's ghost came to us, just a few days after she died.  She stayed in the doorway, like all polite ghosts seem to do.  A black shadow with hazy edges, silent and floating, she kept watch over us for the night.  After that, we never saw her again.  But we miss her and talk about her all the time.

It has been interesting to me to see the rise in popularity of ghost hunting shows.  I now have a name for the fleeting black wisps and ghostly black human shapes that I saw so often - Shadow People.  There couldn't be a better name for what I experienced.  As a mature lady, I have made my peace with ghosts.  I'm not afraid anymore.  After all, ghosts are just people.  I wish I hadn't been afraid before, but I was only a child.  And I hope the ghost of our Valley home has been resting in peace since that stormy night in 1978.