DURING spring break of my senior year of high school, I was staying at my best friend’s childhood home in California, relaxing and enjoying the sunshine, but something felt off.

The energy in the room I was sleeping was heavy and felt stifling.

I felt so suffocated that I finally confronted my best friend’s mom about it.

She nonchalantly responded: “Oh yeah, the previous owner died in there.”

My suspicions were confirmed: I was sharing a room with a ghost.

She went on to tell me that the spirit was mainly harmless, just a bit annoying.

The old lady’s ghost was known to open cabinets, hide things, and knock stuff over.

She wasn’t malevolent, but she could certainly be a burden.

That night, I struggled to fall asleep, as I could feel her presence in the room.

I eventually dozed off, but I didn’t stay asleep for long.

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I was awoken at around 3am to a feeling of total despair.

In the corner of the room, I saw a dark figure standing.

Seconds later, I felt pressure next to me, as if someone was lying in bed beside me.

I froze in terror, unable to move.

I felt hot breath in my ear as something whispered in my ear: “I’m not as bad as they say.”

I ran into my best friend’s room screaming and refused to sleep there ever again.

Last month, I was visiting California and saw my best friend in Southern California, miles away from her childhood home.

We discussed the ghost because the memory still haunts me.

That very moment, her mom texted her, asking if we were talking about the spirit.

Apparently, the ghost was “back,” and her mother said I was “stirring up the dead.”

Even miles apart, this entity from beyond knows how to give me the heebie jeebies.