Ever since I can remember, my mom has always told me there's no such things as ghosts. She still commits to this story to this day, and I feel like she won't say otherwise anytime soon.

This story begins around the time I was 3 or 4. My house at the time was a two story house perched on a hillside that led down to a lake roughly 80 feet from our back porch, we lived outside of Monmouth, Illinois. The basement had access to the outside through a pair of sliding doors, and the stairs had a small sub-room before the actual basement with no doors. I began having dreams around this age that all shared a common theme. Now, I don't know when these dreams began, but I remember it roughly at the age of 3 or 4, but it might've been earlier.

Every night at that house, I was so scared to sleep. Not because I thought I saw stuff in the dark, or because I was apart from my parents. I was scared to sleep because of the pain my dreams gave me. I had this repetitive dream that I would be trapped in our basement at night. No lights, no one awake. Fearing I would get in trouble, I always tried to enter the sub-room and climb up the stairs. Though, I would never be able to climb up these stairs, regardless of my ability to do so in real life.

Eventually, it got to the point where I started to notice at the computer room (across the room to the basement stairs) had someone, or something in it other than computers. This thing would peak what I assumed to be it's head out every now and then, and watch me try to get up the stairs as I desperately struggled to get upstairs. I assumed this to be my mom or dad threatening to spank me if I don't go to bed. But as the dreams continued, this thing got more and more comfortable with me in the basement - too comfortable.

Once it got comfortable enough with me to come out of the computer room and start trying to grab me and chase me, I began to notice it's features, and I'd even named it. Maybe I'm repressing what I really remember to make it less horrifying, all I remember is that it's name was "Yae". To describe this thing, you're going to have to use your imagination for this. It was a brown square with a leathery-looking texture. One of the top corners was rounded,  and that's where his face went. His legs were short, thin and twisted. His arms were long, thin, and just as twisted. His face was 3 horizontal black slits that seemed to never move, yet change with time. He was longer then he was wide. I've tried my best to re-create what he looks like in MS paint.

Yae started to become more "active" as my parents began to fight. He would now catch me as I tried to run up the stairs, grabbing me by my ankle area and dragging me back into the computer room, screaming the entire time. The sensation felt awful, it's comparable with the sensation of feeling cherry-red heated barbwire wrap around my leg. I'd always wake up crying. In certain instances, I'd start the dream in our kitchen, or hallway, or other bedrooms in the house, but it would always be at night.

One dream started with me in the kitchen, but in our pantry. I opened the door to peak out. I stepped out of the cabinet and quietly shut it. Scared out of my mind, I began to try to run to my parent's room. As I made it to the hallway, I saw Yae exit their room and begin to charge me, I turned the other direction and began to run, but he grabbed my ankle and dragged me to the basement, though I screamed and cried and tried to stop myself, he continued to drag me like it was nothing. When we reached the basement, he flung me into the computer room and charged in after, slamming the door. I woke up and began crying. Within minutes my mom ran into my room, grabbed me, and took me into her room while my dad went to the basement. Later that night police showed up and began looking around our house.

My dad told me 11 years later that they thought someone had broken in, as they heard the computer room door slam shut after a loud thud was heard downstairs.

Eventually, my parents had a divorce, and things only took off from there. Yae was my encouragement to stay awake, so I tried hard to stay awake at night, though I failed. The dreams only expanded from there, my dreams started with me in church, at daycare, and all other places I went as a child, and always at night. At church, doors would be locked and I couldn't go through them, often leaving me as a sitting duck.

At age 8 we moved out of that house, and the dreams stopped. Dad said when I woke up the next day after moving, I was quiet, but happy.

On the same day when I was 11 (referencing earlier), my dad had told me that those dreams first started after we had visited my Aunt and Uncle in Missouri. We had slept in the basement over there. My cousin had an imaginary friend in the basement over there that had begun a mean streak.

It started to get him into trouble and hurting him. Once my dad had told them of the nightmares I was having, they were all over the issue. Saying that they thought it was weird that it felt calmer after my mother and I had stayed there. I've got to say, there's a lot I'm curious about. I'm going to try to reach out to my Aunt and Uncle again, and see what else I can find out about the issue, as well as communicate with my parents.
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