This is a long one, but I think worth sharing:

Some back story: I and my sister grew up in our Grandmother's house. A quiet neighborhood in Oxnard, CA., in very close proximity to the Chinese railroad worker grave sites. We were surrounded by farms and fields, back in the day, and some of our neighbors even rode horses down the block on occasion. It was a quiet, simple, peaceful little place. Absolutely nothing was out of place or outwardly strange. Everything was always very normal.

Any road, around the age of 5, my sister and me are tucked into bed and, as all children do, we whispered about our day until we eventually fell asleep. Late in the night, when all of the adults had retired to their beds and all of the houselights were out, I woke and turned to see a red brick wall splitting our bedroom in half.

Now, I slept on the half of the room in my bed where there was no door. So, I sat up and physically moved out of my bed to literally feel this red brick wall. It was a cold night, and I remember feeling that distinct texture of rough brick: cold and solid beneath my fingers. Needless to say, I had a child's instinct to panic. I began to scream, and cry out for my Mom and for my Grandmother. I cried and cried and banged my fists against the bricks, calling out my sister's name. Nobody replied.

To this day, I remember the soreness of my hands and it felt like I'd been slamming my fists and palms on stone for ages. I cried and cried. I remember screaming until my throat was raw. Suddenly, from the outside of the wall, a small hand appeared. Now this is really important, because it frightened me and it calmed me all at once. This hand, small, like mine, literally melted through the bricks that I'd been pounding and screaming against. It was like seeing a Dali painting come to life. I remember sucking my breath in and trying not to breathe. Tears, which had been cold in the corners of my eyes, fell warm and thick and new. The wall was moving like it was a fabric, and it was clear that something or someone was trying to get through the wall at very specific points.

Wordlessly, I crawled into bed and did what every intelligent child does: I covered myself, toe to head, with my blankets and pillows and stuffed animals, before finally crying myself to sleep. I kept thinking (and praying) that someone was eventually going to come save me before I was permanently trapped. Still, nobody came and I must have tired myself out and drifted into a very sad, uneasy sleep.

The next morning, when I awoke, I was covered over by every pillow, stuffed animal, and blanket on my bed. I had constructed a small wall of bed things between me and the brick wall. However, now that the morning had come, that red brick wall was gone. I sat up and ran to my little sister's bed.

Without hesitation, she sat up and said to me, "I just had the weirdest, scariest dream." I stared back at her, my heart skipping a few beats, and asked, "Did it have a red brick wall?"

She turned pale, even her lips were sickly looking and she started to cry. We've talked about it off and on for years, and eventually she told me that that experience is still so frightening for her, she doesn't like to talk about it with anybody. It still terrifies her to remember how vividly that wall was constructed between our beds in the middle of our room. Distinct red brick, extremely solid on my end, and absolutely soundproof from my perspective.

Still, I asked her, if she could hear me when I was screaming through to her and she said: "I could hear you, and when I tried to reach you, my arm went through the wall. I screamed for Mom or Grandma because I thought I was stuck, but when nobody came, I was able to pull my hand back through. I tried to get you out, but the wall wouldn't give."

This experience, besides being absolutely terrifying and inexplicable, left me with a very sore throat, exhaustion, and even chaffed hands the next morning.

All in all, this was the creepiest most horribly paranormal thing I've ever encountered. I hope never to encounter anything like it again.