Holding me down - dream walker/restless spirit/lucid dream/incubus attack?

It hasn't happened in a while, but I had a feeling I wasn't alone the second I closed my bedroom door. I knew i was going to be held down tonight. After hearing my mother talking in her sleep. She told me she was speaking with her birth father but couldn't understand him because she wasn't listening with her heart. I heard the tail end of their conversation and it sounded like gibberish to me. I quickly went back into my room and closed and locked the door behind me. I have to smile now at the futility of that. He doesn't care if a door is closed. A lock does not matter to him. He will come anyway. So I unlocked the door. My hands shake now as I type these words because I know what he looks like now. Watching me and even before I have seen him in my mind's eye, I feel he is going to make himself known to me. I've seen him in my minds eye. A Native American man. Crouching in tan buckskin tunic and pants with fringe and beading. He's holding a bow in one hand and staring at me. He's wearing war paint, a single white streak bisecting his tanned faced, cheekbone to cheekbone. He looks at me. I'm laying alone in bed. My son is visiting relatives and my fiance is at work. I am alone and I know he's there. I can feel it about to happen and I hope that if I could somehow get to sleep quickly, he will move on. I never fall asleep fast enough. Just as my eyes droop, a thought pops into my mind. "I am not alone. An entity." The vision of him crouched in front of my closet staring intently at my bed, at my sleeping body, flashes in my head. I see him as if I am sitting on the foot of my bed looking at him head on then I see him and my bed with me still lying in it as if I am standing near my door. I can't move. I can't speak. In the past I have seen his shadow tumble across the wall of my room and knew it was going to happen again. I wore my hair in a certain way, two corn rows, braided from the bottom of my head to the crown and tied together like a wreath at the top of my head. He does not like this style. I learned this the hard way. My head  was violently jerked back and up off my pillow as the braids are tugged and my head shakes before I land back down on the pillow. I at first thought it may have been a bad dream and then it happened again. He does not like this style and I haven't worn it since. This is the first time that I have gotten a clear look at him. This spirit, demon, vision, I don't know what it is or what he wants or why he chose me to visit but I am not afraid anymore. I can make myself move. I can free myself from your thrall. I will look you in the eye one day. I am not afraid anymore and I know you will come again. Out of respect because I suspect we are somehow connected, I will not wear my hair in the way that offends you so. But I have to know... Are you my grandfather come to look in on me after speaking with my mother? If not, then either way I need to know why you come and why you insist on holding me down.