There's a Woman in my Living Area

 The events described take place for the most part in a land-marked building in lower Manhattan, New York City. The building is in disrepair compared to the shiny, luxury condos it borders. The rustic, industrial feel probably make the spirits who dwell within it's walls quite comfortable.

I live in a loft space. It's one big room with three windows and a kitchen on one side and two rooms taking up the back three windows. We have a big white couch in the living area (we have more "areas" than we have rooms). It folds out into a big, queen sized bed.

My friend, Isa, came to stay with me for the weekend. She was here three nights waiting for New York to get over it's media crazed hurricane fear and restart the MTA subway system. On the first night, Friday, we both slept soundly. I in my room listening to the rain through the open window, and she in the living area on the big pull-out bed. By Saturday evening the storm was blowing in and it wasn't safe to sleep so near a window so I relocated to the pull-out bed with Isa.

I didn't sleep well. Isa had passed out by midnight but I was up, drinking tea and turning out lights. When I finally went to sleep it was only to toss fretfully around. I woke up every couple of hours after some bad dream and then lay awake, listening to the hurricane with my eyes closed for fear of seeing one of the ghosts from my dreams.

I drempt I was laying on that pull-out bed in the middle of my apartment. Out of nowhere this huge woman's face appeared above me and started yelling angrily. What she was saying I cannot recall. Her face was huge, it would have been half the size of her body (if I could see her body). She had a hooked nose, pointed chin, bristly eyebrows and a loose neat bun on the top of her head. I remember being able to see the pores in her nose and the malice in her dark eyes. When I dared open my eyes and look around the apartment there was nothing there. I closed them again and five or six statuesque women in long, working dresses appeared. They were all brunettes with hair parted down the middle and held in a tight bun in the back. They all looked to be in sepia. Just standing there with their hinds politely folded, watching me. When I timidly opened my eyes again they were gone.

I spent the rest of the night curled up in terror waiting for the light to come back so I could move.

The next night the hurricane had past with minimal damage and I was back in my own bed. Without me there to take the brute of the paranormal force within my apartment the ghost of the old woman's face presented itself to my friend. She awoke in the middle of the night because she heard screaming above her. I asked her if it was angry, she said yes. I asked her if it was yelling, she said no, screaming. She couldn't remember the face after long. Just the angry screaming and uneasy feeling it left her with for the rest of the night.

The following night she was gone and I slept more soundly than I had in weeks.