After a few days of lurking on "nosleep", I decided to share my own story. The only reason I felt that it was necessary is because of inspiration from others. Or the comfort in knowing that I'm not alone. Basically, I'm not in immediate danger (at least I hope not) by some forces of evil, but I'm definitely involved in something strange. I'd like to use this subreddit as a place where I can post my supernatural occurrences in my home and hopefully gain some advice from all of you readers out there. Perhaps some of you can share your own ghost stories and we can relate over not being able to sleep at night. That is the point of this thread after all. I will post some stories from my childhood, stories as told by my parents, sister, and even some of my close friends that used to stay the night here with me. I hope you enjoy them, I'm getting the chills just by writing this.

I live in a suburb in Michigan, it's relatively safe besides some petty theft here and there. One night we made the mistake of not checking to make sure every door was locked and by morning we discovered our front door wasn't completely secured. We may have gotten lucky, but that's just how safe the area is.

We moved into this house while my mom was pregnant with me, so about 18 years ago. From what I've been told about this house it's a cape cod style home built in the early 1900s/1920s. Before my house looked the way it does now, it was connected to my neighbors house. This never made sense to me. But my parents explained that long ago (probably in the 1800s) our house and my neighbors house used to be one. Our living room has a glass door that I assumed lead nowhere and didn't serve much purpose. But when I look out the door it stares directly to the side of my neighbors house. When they were conjoined, the door lead into a den which is now my neighbors house. (I will provide a picture upon request) For sake of selling the property, they renovated both houses and split them apart. I always thought they didn't do a great job, part of our front lawn is technically part of their front/side lawn. The only thing separating our houses is a privacy fence. (Pictures will be provided upon request)

Now I'll start with a more recent story, that may or may not be creepy to all of you skeptics or believers out there, but it did scare me.

When we moved in it was my parents, my sister (she's 3 years older than me), baby OP (my mom was about 6 months pregnant with me when they moved in), and my older brother (he's 9 years older than me). Everything seems normal so far, right? Almost, but our family isn't a "typical" family. My brother was born with special needs. My mom had a natural child birth and the umbilical cord ended up wrapped around his neck, cutting off the oxygen supply to his brain. Luckily they were able to save him, but the lack of oxygen caused brain damage. The brain damage wasn't obvious until he started to reach those "milestone" ages, (ie. crawling, sitting up, saying words) and he wasn't developing like other babies would. My mom had another son from her previous marriage, so get maternal instincts kicked in and she knew something was wrong. My brother was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy with multiple severe physical and cognitive disabilities. The cognitive disabilities wouldn't be prevalent until he was in a developmental school. He had a wheelchair that had a neck support for him, along with a vest with buckles that kept him propped up. He had ankle straps to keep his legs in, and a seat belt. On the back he had his school backpack attached. My brother couldn't walk, despite how many times they tried leg braces and occupational therapy. He couldn't sit up, talk (he communicated with us through grunts, gurgles, and giggles), and he was fed through a feeding tube that was inserted directly through his belly button (three times a day I had to administer his medications in there when I babysat him for my parents). Despite the doctor's saying he had the mental progression of an 18 month old infant, my brother understood more than most would ever believe possible. I would talk to him daily about anything that happened, he would look at me with a look of intense concentration on his face. He would laugh when I would tell him a joke, and he was quite ticklish. Once when his occupational therapist (a young, attractive woman) was walking away, he leaned over the side to watch her backside as she left, always with a grin on his face. My brother was in a school for individuals with special needs from the age of 3 until he was 25. He passed away almost 2 years ago. I don't want to divulge into his death since that's another long story in itself, but giving you this background information on my brother is key to what I'm going to talk about next.

When I say my house is a hotel for the deceased, I mean it. It's not only strangers, but for my brother too. It's just as much his house as it is my own, so I don't mind his presence.. He's just proven himself to be quite the jokester. After he passed, our house had this eerily quiet feeling. It was as if we could still feel his presence, long after his funeral had passed. In the following months household items started to go missing. We assumed that we had just misplaced them, and then we moved on.

Then things started to get more and more strange. On my bedside table I keep the usual items: box of tissues, a book of poetry, pens, a notebook, and a picture of my brother. Every night I would look at his photo before I went to sleep, and every morning I would wake up to see his photo face down on my table, sometimes on the floor. No big deal, I would move it back. But nothing helped, it just kept falling forward. So I finally got fed up and placed a jar of change in front of the frame, there! That will keep it from falling forward! Then I came back to my room later that day to see that the jar of change had been moved slightly to the side and his photo face down again.

Then more and more items began to disappear. It caused bickering amongst my family, thickening the tension between us. More recently I remember having a pink flower clip that I wore in my hair one day and I placed it in my hair accessory box in my room one night. The next day it was gone. I accused my sister and demanded she return it to me, but she vehemently denied having it. "Besides," she said, "wouldn't you have seen me wear it today if I took it from you? You just wore it yesterday and put it away, now it's gone. Why would I take it just to take it?" Damn, she was right. I could have asked my parents, but what would they want with it? I let it go, I guess I could just buy a new one.

Then things got even more strange. Me and my whole family were becoming plagued with vivid nightmares of my brother. One I can remember is being at the hospital during his final days and a nurse saying to me, "you can't go in there, your brother is dead." I can see past her and my brother is looking at me, wide eyed. His body is contorted in the most grotesque way. He didn't look as peaceful as he did when he really did pass. I woke up that night in a cold sweat, in tears. It was 4 AM. What was significant about the time was in the last few days of his life when he was at home he would always wake up at 4 AM, screaming. His feeding tube was leaking badly, his stomach bile on his stomach. The only thing we could do was clean him up and frantically call his doctor. He was in so much pain. The doctor said that the only thing you can do is have his tube surgically replaced. That made sense, his tube was getting old, but it would take a long week before he could get it surgically replaced. It was heart wrenching to hear his screams and cries so late at night. Always at 4 AM.

When I would wake up at this hour from these terrifying nightmares, I would hear footsteps going down the stairs. I asked my parents and sister the next day if they were walking downstairs at 4 AM, and they all said no. My mom piped up, "you heard those footsteps too? I was hoping it was you going downstairs to use the bathroom.." I felt this chill go down my spine. The footsteps became more and more frequent. To this day I hear them in my parents room above me in the living room, or romping around on the hardwood floors in my room. Then the steps will stop for a while, then descend down the stairs. Once they reach the bottom step, no one will be there. It happens any time of day, even in the afternoon.

The only reason I'm starting with the supernatural occurrences I believe to be my brother is because last night I had another nightmare about him. This time I was in his room, he was laying on his bed like normal. Except he wasn't alive. His body was rotting, the smell was enough for me to feel like I was going to faint. I was desperately trying to leave his room, but the bedroom door was locked. This wasn't right! I was at his funeral! I cried as they closed the casket and he was buried! This wasn't fair. I woke up at the dreadful time of 4 AM. I was too scared and exhausted from a 40 hour work week to notice if I could hear footsteps.

This morning when I woke up I went downstairs to the living room as usual. On my way to the bathroom I passed my brothers room. I stopped for a second and looked at the white wooden door. The door was closed, but I could easily picture his room, untouched since his passing. I let out a small sigh and continued to the bathroom. But I got this sudden chill, despite the summer heat. It wasn't a normal chill, no. This chilled me to the bone. As sudden as it came, it was gone. But then I could smell an unusual scent.. I know this scent.. But where is it from? When did I smell this before? Then it hit me.. My brother. It was my brother's soap. I've always been sensitive to scents, and I'm picky with what kind of soap or lotion I use, (I prefer unscented products) or else it'll drive me crazy and make be break out into a rash. I couldn't believe it, it's his soap. When he passed away I never smelled that soap again. My mom threw it away since it reminded her too much of him. I wasn't sure how to feel, but I'm torn between grief and fear.

Lately I've been feeling his presence again, and he sure does like messing with my family. I know I shouldn't be scared, but how else should I react to a ghost? Let alone the ghost of my deceased brother. It hurts, but in some odd way it's like he never left. It's strangely comforting.

This is one of the many strange visitings in my house. It's like the spirits come and go, much like a hotel. I don't have much knowledge on ghosts, so why are they so attached to my house? Could my brother be here because it's a place he's most comfortable with? Perhaps he's just checking on us, and he doesn't mean to scare us. There's so many questions I may never get the answers to.

If you've stuck through my rambling until the end, I really appreciate it. If you would like me to type up my other experiences with the ghosts in my house then let me know. I'm finally willing to share them. Advice and your own experiences are welcomed!