Stowaway Ghost Boy

I've noticed that some people have visited here looking for Brooklyn ghost stories, here's another.

A few days after we returned from traveling in the Yucatan 2 years ago, I dreamt that I saw my son wrestling with a very cartoon like ghost, as if this casper figure wanted to dominate my son, who was fighting for his autonomy. It went on for a while, this wrestling and shape shifting between them. I noticed that the fight was taking place in the bottom floor of a strange narrow building with many steps and staircases, which reminded me in feel of a pyramid my son had climbed in Mexico, The Temple of the Bee in the ruins of Coba. On that pyramid I watched European tourists practically skipping from step to step hundreds of feet above the ground while I clung to each stone for my life.

A few nights later my son awoke during the night and asked to sleep in our bed because he was scared. He was curled up in it when I returned to the room after doing something, and I felt my hair stand on end. I felt afraid of my son, and thought of the dream I had had.

The next night I dreamt that I was in a one story house with a large glass sliding door. I could see there was a boy outside in a dark forest, and I felt that he wanted me to let him in. He was about 5 or 6, had straight blonde hair and a dignified sad face.

I'm not sure how the dream ended, if I let the boy in the house or not, but from what happened I think I must have opened the door. I had a dream utterly unlike any I've ever had. As I fell asleep between my son and daughter while putting them to bed I had the most vivid dream-like experience. All the sudden I was conscious and there were people standing around my bed in white robes. A woman on my right had her hand on my heart, and there were at least two women at the foot of my bed chanting in a language I didn't recognize. All the sudden my hands were together in a position as if to dive and they were lifted up about 2 feet over my chest. Then I felt this pressure, and if someone were trying to suck something out of my brain through my hands. The feeling was similar to that intensity you feel when a nurse tightens the blood pressure cuff, but strong enough to make me feel like I would pass out. This happened twice before the chanting started to sound like a baby crying, and then I started to wake up and realize that indeed my daughter was crying. This bizarre dream was one of the most sacred moments of my life, to be in the midst of what suggested angelic beings. But what were they doing?

I can't believe that this time I actually got an answer. By coincidence I was reading a book by Antonio Villoldo which described many shammanic practices. In one chapter he describes his technique for removing entities from people, and it explicitly states that they are removed through the hands. I read this in shock, naturally. But it all gave me hope, to see that help arrived for this lost boy, that the souls of children really are looked after and shepherded home. It did me lots of good.