Question From A Reader: "Why did you choose to submit your story to The Dead Files...?"

We are working on blog entry Semana del los Muertos - trecera parte  (Week of the Dead -part three).  The week before filming was terrible for us from an activity standpoint. So many things happened during that week that it would be a huge blog entry if we did it as a single post.  I've always wanted the blog entries to be quick reads so I felt the best way to share this part of our story was to break it up into 4 to 5 entries.  Thanks for your patience as we are working on it as quickly as possible.

In the meantime, here's a question we got.

"Hi from Australia!  We watched you on The Dead Files and love reading your blog. We were curious why you choose to submit your story to The Dead Files over other shows?  And would you consider being on another show as there is so much more to be told?"

Thanks for reading our blog!  Our continued goal is to share our story openly so I really appreciate you reading the blog.

If you've followed our blog, you know that watching  paranormal shows in hopes of finding a solution to our problems was one of the things we did.   We started watching Ghost Adventures and bits & pieces of the show kind of helped us.  However,  the show was more about capturing evidence then it was about finding out the Who/What/Why, as well as how to deal with it.  Ghost Adventures also turned into more a theatrical performance.  It stated leaving us with more questions than answers.   The Dead Files came on right after Ghost Adventures and Jennifer started watching it first.  I joined her in watching it about a month later.  We liked the show because it taught us a lot and gave us hope that our problems could be solved.   It somewhat answered the Who/What/Why questions we had too.  We liked how it wasn't about getting evidence, it was about finding out what was there and how to deal with it.  Jennifer & I felt the show was about educating & helping people.  It also felt more legitimate than all the other shows.  In a nutshell, that's why we turned to them.

Our first experience with The Dead Files wasn't really an experience with The Dead Files.   Sadly we were victims of a paranormal team that misrepresented themselves as working for the producers of the show.  (Click Here To Read About That)

We finally got through to the right people at Painless Productions and thankfully they chose to accept our case.  We can't thank them enough for all the help they gave us.  We have never regretted our decision to be on the show.  As a matter of fact, we feel they saved us.  If you need help, we strongly recommend The Dead Files.  You can submit your case to Help Me Dead Files for review.

As far as being on another show, we really haven't thought about it.  I guess we would consider it as long as it allows us to share our story in a way that would help others who are dealing with similar experiences.   So, who knows, maybe someday in the future you'll see more of us & our story on television.

If you have a question, we encourage you to ask.  Our goal in sharing our story continues to be to help those who are suffering and just need some courage to get the help they need.  No one should suffer in silence.

We've made it easier to submit questions too!  Just Fill out the "Contact Us" Form on upper right.

If your question is for one of us in particular, please say who it's directed to.   Also, we won't publish your name unless you specifically ask us to do so.

Semana de los Muertos - la segunda parte

It's Mid-May 2016 and filming was scheduled to begin within a week.  We were nowhere close to ready for that to happen.   The house was a disaster and we were exhausted, stressed, and running out of time. The constant attacks from whatever was here had caused our house to have fallen in disarray.  It's tough to do even the basic things when you're in pain, sick, scared and just exhausted on a daily basis.   I wasn't feeling well at all.  My head was spinning and pounding almost on a daily basis.  I was having trouble concentrating, sleeping, and my joints were beginning to lock up from pain.

I was having a very difficult time tuning out the voices.  They were speaking to me nearly non-stop; talking over each other but not at each other.  It was like they were just talking to hear themselves talk.  No matter how hard I tried I could not always disconnect myself from them.

New voices were starting to arrive on a daily basis.  Some speaking languages I didn't know as well as in accents which made it very difficult for me to understand them.  One of the voices really stuck out to me even though it wasn't English I felt connected to it.  I couldn't understand it but it felt comforting and soothing; like it was teaching me something.  The language seemed Native American and even though I had no formal education on the ins and outs of it, I felt in someway I understood it.

Over the next few days, the Native American voice started to drown out the others.  It didn't completely silence them but it certainly did soften them a bit.  At night I could hear a soft low chant as I laid in bed.  It was calming, like a lullaby.  The chant soothed my nerves and allowed me to drift off to sleep.   The chant became a nightly thing.  I was starting to learn it and found myself humming it as I laid in bed.   For the first time, I started to feel somewhat decent and, on a small scale, I was starting to be productive again.

While I contended with the voices, the activity inside and outside of the house continued.  The screams of the crazy woman had turned into a panicking scream of desperation.  It was like she knew that she was failing at stopping Amy Allan from coming.   The spoon was starting to disappear and reappear with a vengeance and figures started to appear.

One night as I was taking out the trash, I stepped outside and noticed something out of the corner of my eye.  As I looked up, I saw him.  A young man, maybe a teenager, wearing a Civil War era uniform.  He was walking slowly from the fence line to the backside of the garage.  I froze, I couldn't move.  I just looked at him as he slowly walked.  His head was hanging down and he was dragging a rifle by the barrel.  I just watched and didn't speak.  He looked up at me and the look on his face was one of overwhelming sorrow and pain.  I was overcome with sadness.  He walked behind the garage and I went around to see if I could still see him but he was gone.  I have never felt so much sorrow and pain in my life.  He was so young and yet his life must had been so hard and tragic.   A life filled with horror, pain, and death.  It was like I could feel all his emotions overtaking me all at once.  His sorrow and pain were more than I could handle.  I became emotional and broke down.

I went inside and told Jennifer about what I had seen as tears filled my eyes.  It was heartbreaking and really took an emotional toll on me.  Of all the things I had seen up to this point, this was the one that shook me up the most.  It wasn't that it scared me, it was that it was such an emotional experience.

I could feel others too.  More had come and I could sense them walking around the property.  I just couldn't see them.  It was like they were lining up to get their shot at us.  The worse of the week was to come.

Question From A Reader "what were your experiences as a young kid...?"

I am continuing to work on blog entry Semana del los Muertos - la segunda parte  (Week of the Dead -part two).  This entry is requiring some collaboration from each family member as everyone saw and experienced something different.  I appreciate everyone's patience.  I hope to have it done by the end of the week.

In the mean time I got the question below and thought I would do a quick answer entry.

"what were your experiences as a young kid with seeing, hearing or feeling entities, voices etc. how did you deal with it?"

I recall 3 particular events (experiences) when I was younger that, looking back at them, make a lot of sense now.

The first was when I very young (5 or 6).  My parents were having friends over one night and were playing cards in the kitchen.  I could hear all of them talking.  I don't recall where my room was in relation to the kitchen but I think it was on the opposite side of the house.  My mother had put me to bed earlier but I couldn't fall asleep.  So, like any normal youngest, I started calling out for my parents.  They couldn't hear me over their talking and the music, so I stood on my bed and started yelling for them.  They still didn't hear me.  After one loud yell I heard a voice in the corner of my room.  "Shut up and lay down!"  It was a male voice and one I had never heard before.  No one had come into my room and I couldn't see into the corner as it was dark.  I could still hear everyone talking in the kitchen.  I was terrified.  I laid down and didn't move.  I never told parents what had happened.   One thing to keep in mind is that this was way before any kind of  baby monitoring system plus, I could tell it was not a transmitted voice.   To this day, I still remember it like is was yesterday.

The second time was when we lived in a house in the Houston area.  I think I was in 4th grade and I had been having problems sleeping.   One night I got out of bed and looked out the window.  My bedroom faced the front yard and had a full view of it.  As I was looking out the window I notice a red glowing light moving in our yard.  It would move from one end to the other.  It would stop at the street and then move back toward the house.  I watched it for what seemed like 10 minutes.  Finally it stopped in the middle of the yard and just hoovered there.   All the sudden it rushed toward my window.  I stumbled backwards and fell into my bed.  I worked up the courage to look to see if it was still there but it was gone.  The next morning I told my dad about it.  He said it was a bug or something.  I told him no way, it was the size of a baseball and was red.  He told me stop making stuff up and to stop lying to him.

The final instant happened when I was in 5th or 6th grade.  We had just moved into our house in Austin and we had a huge backyard that bordered undeveloped wooden land.   I was in the backyard playing and my dog started barking at the fence line.  I went over and saw a little girl walking through the woods.  She looked about my age and was wearing a white cotton dress.   She started walking a circle around a tree and yelled "Hello".  She turned, looked at me and smiled but didn't stop walking.  I yelled out to her again and she stopped, then turned and glared at me.  Her eyes were black and I was overcome with fear.  I ran inside the house and told my mother.  Naturally she didn't believe and told me I was just imagining things.

As I have said many times, I was raised very conservatively.  I remember my dad telling me that no one would like me or other kids would make fun of me if I told them these things,  So since my parents didn't believe me what could I do?   I did the only thing I could and suppressed all these past experiences.  I closed up and blocked things.  I guess over the years I got so good at it that I could dismiss things without even realizing I was doing so.   One of the most important things that I've learned through our experiences is to listen to my children when they speak of their experiences.  Don't dismiss them and always be supportive and caring


 I hope that everyone likes the Q&A part of the blog.  If you have a question, we encourage you to ask.  Our goal in sharing our story continues to be to help those who are suffering and just need some courage to get the help they need.  No one should suffer in silence.

We've made it easier to submit questions too!  Just Fill out the "Contact Us" Form on upper right.

If your question is for one of us in particular, please say who it's directed to.   Also, we won't publish your name unless you specifically ask us to do so.

Question From A Reader "When Did You Start Believing Something was happening?"

As we continue to get questions regarding our experiences,  we've decided we're going to answer some of them as a blog entry.  Our thoughts are that if the answer requires more than a couple of quick sentences then we should share it here.

Don't worry...we will continue to tell our story and Semana del los Muertos - la segunda parte will be finished soon.

I got this question recently. "Early on, you talked about not accepting things were happening.  When did you start believing that something was happening?"

It's true that when we first moved here, I didn't accept the fact that things were happening as well as how they were effecting us.  I was raised very conservatively with, what I like to call, "single mindset thinking."  I always tried to find logically explanation for everything that occurred and I repressed my experiences from my childhood that could have help me realized what was happening.  So it took something that obviously couldn't be explained logically and the experience would have to involve me.

My belief started with the scream.  I was home alone and working in the basement.  It was winter and was cold & dark.  Some odd things started to happen while I was down there. I dismissed them until the crazy women scream so loudly it hurt my ears.  It scared me to death and I got out of the basement as fast as I could.  I was so terrified that I waited outside in the cold until Jennifer and the girls got home.

At that point I couldn't deny that something was indeed here.  That's when I began to believe.  I unintentionally opened myself up after that experience too and I didn't even realize that I was doing so.
"Can You Hear Me Now!"
I wrote about this experience in more detail in blog entry "Can You Hear Me Now!"  Just click on the text to read it.

I hope that everyone likes the Q&A part of the blog.  If you have a question, we encourage you to ask.  Our goal in sharing our story continues to be to help those who are suffering and just need some courage to get the help they need.  No one should suffer in silence.

We've made it easier to submit questions too!  Just Fill out the "Contact Us" Form on upper right.

If your question is for one of us in particular, please say who it's directed to.   Also, we won't publish your name unless you specifically ask us to do so.

Semana de los Muertos - Primera parte

A few members of the crew had been out to the house taking still shots and scouting places to set up.  Our producer had been in contact with us nearly every day checking on us.  So far our experience with The Dead Files had been great and a source of relief.  We weren't well but we were getting better.

However with all the good that seemed to be surrounding us, there was bad too.  At times the house felt heavy along with a feeling of anxiety that was overwhelming at times.  Those feelings manifested themselves into activity.  Doors would slam, silverware would crash onto the floor, we would hear heavy footsteps, light bulbs burned out despite being recently changed, and the scream...the scream became louder, stronger, and more terrifying.

The voices in my head were overwhelming.  They talked over each other and I couldn't make out what any of them were saying.  I wasn't sleeping well and felt nauseated every day.  It seemed like I had a never ending pounding headache that wouldn't responded to anything I took.  My joints were hurting so badly that every move I made felt like a new experience in pain.  Despite it being late May, I was cold most of the time.  I was falling apart piece by piece.

As I laying in bed one night in excruciating pain, I could hear the crazy woman whisper.  I couldn't make out what she was saying as it was a soft whisper.  The pain was overtaking me and I  prayed for relief.  Sadly the only way I thought to get relief was to have God take me.   I heard her whisper "finally" in my ear but then I heard someone else say, "keep fighting."  I'm not sure if that was just my inner voice or if someone was there taking care of me.  I finally drifted off to sleep.

My peaceful sleep didn't last long.  Out of nowhere I was awakened by a burning pressure on my chest. It felt the same as the when the medium from that paranormal group had her hand on me.  My initial thought was heartburn from something I had eaten however when I tried to get up I couldn't.  Something was holding me down and I felt the pressure increase on my chest every time I tried to move.  I tried to talk but couldn't and my breathing began to become painful.  Out of nowhere, I was slapped across my face.  After that, the pressure on my chest went away and I was able to get up.  I made my way to the bathroom and I notice my face was red where I had felt the slap.

We could just feel things getting worse and the house was heavier than it ever had been.  No one was sleeping and we were at the point of physical exhaustion.  There was also a lot of tension between all of us.  We were arguing and fighting between ourselves over the smallest things, things that never bothered us before or were trivial.

We were working as quickly as we could to get ready for the filming.  Working around our exhaustion was hard enough but trying to work around the activity made it even harder.  Things would disappear and then reappear.  They would return in a form of some kind of cryptic message; clothing folded in the form of an upside down cross, silverware pointing in certain directions, and drinking glasses turned upside down.  The smell of cigarette and pipe smoke was nearly constant smell throughout the house.

I knew things were getting worse, I could feel it.  I tried to remain strong but it was taking a very hard toll on me.  The voices were overwhelming and I couldn't keep them straight.  One afternoon, I heard one voice come through louder and clearer than the others.  It repeated over and over again.  It sounded like Spanish.  I grabbed a piece of paper and did my best to write down what was being said.  I got enough of the message before it faded away.

'No son los demonious parecen, solo una linea de almas perdidas, algunos fieles algunos no mas estan llegando'  (Click on text to see translation)

The translation was rough but I got the message...the week ahead was going to be a long one.