As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 159 - Chilling Past Life Stories & Other Strange And Scary Stories

Episode Date: January 16, 2025

I wrote A Novel! It's a psychological Thriller titled "The Insomniac's Experiment"! It is available on Amazon for Kindle and physical versions, OR you can buy an autographed copy directly from me! (With a Bonus!) Signed Physical: ko-fi.com/s/bfdb8cb5f2 (limited, has sold out once already!) Digital & unsigned Physical: a.co/d/4voCEK1 Today, on the 159th episode of the As The Raven Dreams podcast, we have 10 True Chilling stories. These stories come from the shadowy corners of reality, where everyday life takes an eerie twist & ordinary people experience the extraordinary. Today we will be diving into some chilling Past Life Experiences, and other True Strange and Scary stories. There are two ad spots this time around: 19 Minutes and 62 Minutes So, turn down the lights, tune in, and let the haunting tales of everyday people take you down that dark and creepy road. Remember, these aren't just stories... these are true experiences that remind us that our world can truly be scarier than fiction. Time stamps for stories... Story 1: 00:25 Story 2: 05:24 Story 3: 19:22 Story 4: 27:04 Story 5: 33:20 Story 6: 44:40 Story 7: 47:28 Story 8: 56:54 Story 9: 01:01:58 Story 10: 01:06:26 Story 11; 01:13:14 Have a Story To Submit? ➤ https://www.astheravendreams.com Or Post to the Subreddit ➤ https://reddit.com/r/TheRavensDream Support the channel for Early Access AND more! Patreon ➤ https://patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams Join ➤ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkW0ihdMHfBUjQrMKjRto6g/join Or Check out the Merch Store! ➤ https://teechip.com/stores/astheravendreams Thank you to all of the authors that have stories in today's Video... LivingProof, CJ, MelissaB, Sharon Medeiros, Jay Been, Quinton, Sarah, Noodle, Vivalala, Christina O As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. 'As The Raven Dreams' is a community where we explore the darker parts of human existence through true and harrowing stories. From sinister encounters with strangers and stalkers, to terrifying experiences that defy explanation and unsettling mysteries that linger in the shadows, I am here to tell you the most haunting narratives ever whispered. Much Love, and Sleep Well... ----- #TrueScaryStories #AsTheRavenDreams #RedditStories ➤ Stories include a content warning for language and sensitive/disturbing content. Viewer discretion is always advised. ➤ ALL Audio of this Podcast are copyright of AS THE RAVEN DREAMS / RAVEN ADAMS and may not be duplicated, in any format, without explicit permission ➤ If you like any of the following stories, consider subscribing! - Dark Web horror stories, creepy lets not meet stories, stalker stories, Glitch In The Matrix Stories, Unexplained Horror stories, Paranormal stories, cryptid encounter stories, Crazy ex lover stories, creepy neighbor stories, quantum immortality, true scary stories from reddit, or any other True horror Stories! ➤ And Remember; You are loved, you are important, and you are valid. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Publié. Savourer. Admirate. And profite. Villaray, the voice that we love that we love. If you have a true scary story you'd like to share with the podcast, go to as-the-ravendreams.com and click the button to send it my way. Also, if the platform you're on has the option to rate the podcast or leave a comment, please consider doing so. And as always, thank you.

Hey, Raven. My name is J.C. I found your channel after a girl I was talking to mentioned she had a glitch while riding the train home from work. I loved your content so much that I even bought. a couple of your posters. Although my dog managed to get to the corners of them, they definitely have character now, I guess. For the record, I have remedied that situation.

I sent them new posters. I heard you read stories about all sorts of topics, so I wanted to share a really strange recurring nightmare I had as a kid. It was so intense that I wasn't allowed to sleep over at a friend's house for years, because of the screaming and sleepwalking slash sleep run. running that it caused. Even now at 35, it still sticks with me, and I even got a tattoo of it that covers my entire back. The nightmare never starts the same way, but one common scene is me walking through a desert at night under a full moon. I wander aimlessly until I stumble upon a small,

old-looking house made of concrete that had logs sticking out holding up the roof. It feels more like a shack than an actual house. There was a big window that showed almost everything inside, but I don't think there was any glass, just open to the elements. Inside, there's a candle flickering on a tiny table giving off an old Western vibe, if that makes sense. When I would knock on the old wooden door for help, no one would answer, and even though I felt lost and was barefoot, I never tried to push it open.

It just felt wrong. As I started to walk away, I would get this eerie feeling of being watched. I would turn around and look back at the shack, focusing on the window where the candle looked strange and distorted. The distortion would change as I moved. I stopped and stared at the candle. It was confusing at first, and I couldn't figure out why this candle looked so house-of-mirrors-like. Then I realized what was happening. A person, a transparent silhouette, was at the window looking at me.

I could feel it staring at me. It felt like bad news, evil, maybe. And while it never tried to come outside, I was terrified that it might. We just looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. When I finally found the courage, I bolted as fast as I could. Not stopping or looking back until sunlight broke the darkness, and then wandering aimlessly again until the sun was about to set. The wandering was uneventful.

Just everything was black. Rocks, plants, well, but the sand was sand-colored. The most memorable part of this nightmare comes next. As I walked, I noticed the black agave plants around me starting to shake and grow taller, writhing, vibrating violently, but also moved as if the black agavehaves. they were dancing. They didn't reach out to grab me, nor was I afraid they would. Eventually, I came to a steep drop leading to a valley filled with even more of these dancing

agave plants. But instead of focusing on those, I looked up to see two massive black sandstone obelisks towering in the distance, like skyscrapers. Above them was a huge black sun, resembling an eclipse but behaving like a normal sun. It was beautiful. I sat down on the soft sand next to the agave plants, mesmerized as I watched the black sun slowly sink between the two black enormous obelisks. It felt like I was in a trance.

However, just as it reached the middle, I snapped out of the trance and a surge of fear came over me. And then watched in pure terror as the black sun slowly made the rest of the way down, and the black agave plants vibrated even more violently. Right before it disappeared behind the horizon, I would wake up, somewhere else other than my bed screaming and sweating. This black sun dream haunted me for years, and even now, I still daydream about it sometimes.

Even if my story doesn't make it onto your channel, it did, I want to thank you for taking the time to read it. This is the first time I've ever been. ever explained it in such detail. If it does get shared with others, I'm curious. Has anyone else experienced a dream like this before? I knew that I was different as far back as I could remember. Some people, my parents included,

say I just have an overactive imagination, but I know that it's more than that. I've carried this weight of fear and anxiety that seemed to have no rational reasoning. My parents, bless their hearts, tried to help me feel normal, but it wasn't their fault, nor do I blame them. For the longest time in my childhood years, the sound of raised voices would send me into a panic attack. My parents rarely fought, and when they did, the worst of it was my mom sighing and shaking her head at my dad. If anything else happened, it was never in front of me.

But even when my dad would raise his voice to cheer for his favorite team on TV, or the playful teasing between the three of us, it would leave me feeling overwhelmed and scared. I could never explain why. I just knew that even the most innocence of teasing or joking felt like an assault on my very being. My parents had a hard time consoling me in those moments too. They would smother me with love and explain that it was just a joke, and part of me knew it. Part of me knew that it wasn't malicious, but something in me would trigger my fight or flight,

and as a kid, that just meant a breakdown of crying and hyperventilating. They eventually decided that I may need professional help to figure out what was going on. They were beginning to worry that maybe something terrible was having to have. happening at school, or the babysitter they used once in a while, and maybe I was just too afraid to tell them. I tried telling them many times that there was nothing going on. I loved school and had several friends. Being a boy, we were all prone to teasing and joshing around, too, and it would set me off just as much. They learned that they couldn't sneak up on me, or shout because it would set off a panic attack.

But that's how I knew that these were good friends. We were still very young, but I remember being out at recess, and we all just played tetherball and they asked me about it. They didn't make fun of me or tell me to get over it. They asked, understood, and accepted me. That's why I'm still friends with them today. Anyway, my parents were convinced that, something was happening to me, and they thought a therapist would be able to help.

And in a way, I guess it kind of did. I started seeing a therapist that I'll just call Dr. M. I remember her asking about my fears and what scared me the most. She then had me do this exercise where I lied on her couch. We started going through memories that I enjoyed, and called out specific senses, like what I felt, heard, smelled, etc. She said this was to help put me in that time and moment to relive it. Then, she asked me to remember the scariest thing in my life.

I remember thinking how silly this was, that my simple fear of the dark or bugs could be the reason I cried or had an accident when my dad shouted with joy. But then, something came rushing back to me, something I remembered but couldn't explain myself. I told her I was afraid of water. She asked me if I had a bad or scary experience in water, and that's when I told her that I had drowned.

I remembered the burning in my nostrils and lungs, and I remember how my body felt as it filled with water when I tried to draw my last breath. That's when I started to remember. it. I had these visions of being held underwater, and no one was helping me. When she asked me to open my eyes, I just started crying. She asked me if I saw this in a movie, or if someone talked to me about this, if maybe I witnessed this in real life. But I told her that all of those were wrong. I very clearly remember being held underwater. I remember

things being shouted at me, very mean and hurtful things. Afterwards, she made me feel like my fears were valid, that I wasn't overly sensitive and that I just experienced something that not a lot of people have or understood. She taught me some breathing techniques and other exercises to bring me out of an attack, and I felt like my time with her was very valuable. Unfortunately, I only saw her three times before my parents told me they would find me another therapist, but never did. In the meantime, I did my best with the exercises that she taught me, but I still had bad days. I still didn't understand as a kid what it all meant, or even what I meant by what I had said in our first session.

As I grew older, I was basically led to believe that I was just sensitive and, had bad anxiety. But I felt like there was something more. Not to mention the awful nightmares that I would have about being drowned, too. But all I could do was shake it off and move on with my day. That was, until I was a young adult. I had been away at college and returned home for the holidays. One of those nights, I was sitting in the living room with my parents,

all of us enjoying a cup of coffee and watching TV, when something reminded us of an old toy that I had, which put us on the topic of my childhood. I'd made an offhand comment about how much the exercises helped that the therapist had taught me, and that it was a bummer that I stopped seeing her. I could tell when my parents weren't saying something. It's something I learned as a kid, too, especially when they were trying to keep something from me, like spelling things out. So, I just asked what it was.

Was there something up with the therapist, or something else? What they told me made a huge difference for me. My mom explained how the therapist told her about my drowning discussion. She asked me if I knew someone that had died that way, if someone in the family did, or if I had watched something and she declined all of those. she then asked if I ever had any accidents of almost drowning to which she also declined. Then, the therapist hit her with a hard one. She said that if none of the previous suggestions she mentioned were possible,

then her theory was that my fears may be from a past life. She wanted to explore the possibility that I was remembering trauma from a previous life. She told them that it could help me move. move on and possibly get rid of my anxiety problems if the past life was the root cause of it. As my mom explained this, I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. Could that be true? Could that really be what happened to me, to make me the way that I am? Is that even possible?

My dad jumped in and mentioned that this was the reason I stopped seeing her. He made fun of her, calling her a quack. and that was the reason he didn't believe therapists were real doctors. We had a slight argument then. One of the few times I've ever fought with my parents. I was upset. I lived with these thoughts and fears for all of my life, and because they didn't believe in past lives,

they weren't willing to take the chance on me to help me. I missed out on a lot of opportunities because it was so debilitating. I didn't go to parties. I rarely had parties myself. I just had one or two friends over. I grew up thinking that I was the problem, that I was broken, and my parents didn't seem to care about it.

When I went back home after that, I started looking further into reincarnation, stories and even therapists that specialized in it. I was determined to find a number, another therapist that specialized in past life regression, and to my surprise, there was one just about an hour away from my school. I went to see him one day, and I reminded myself to not get my hopes up. It started with me explaining to him why I was there. I explained my attacks and fear of people yelling.

I talked about my previous therapist and what I told her and what she had recommended. He agreed that there was definitely potential and wanted to try one of his regression techniques, and I was also interested in it. I will say that I was a little skeptical and hesitant at first. I wanted to hold on to this as being the cause of my problems, but then part of me was also worried that maybe it was a sham. Maybe I was just going to be a way to get money out of people

and lie about, quote, seeing something in me, right? I had to come back the week after the session, so it was possible that maybe he would even look up some stories to tie to my experience. But that's not what happened. He had me lie on a bed, and he walked me through these steps to put me in a trance, basically. From there, he would ask me questions about what I remembered.

And the rest? I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't get to listen to the recording when we were done. I described a life of cruelty and pain that ended in a violent death. I told him my name was George. I had a huge birthmark on my face that made me look disfigured and was always made fun of, by strangers, kids in school, and even my parents. My parents were alcoholics. I was bullied by the kids.

Rocks were thrown at me. My parents beat me. I starved a lot. I described walking home and four boys following me. They started pushing me, taunting me, and talked about how I was a freak. They shoved me into the water and held me down, laughing, still calling me names.

until the burning in my lungs stopped until I couldn't hear or see anything. I was shocked as I listened to my own voice retell this story. There were no prompts by the doctor, only questions, such as my name, age, where I was. I told the story. I don't remember saying it. I don't remember any of it.

All I remember is what I thought to be an irrational fear of people and drowning, and now I finally had answers. From there, we talked about where we would go with this information. It gave me the opportunity to move on. I realized, besides my parents, being very opinionated on mental health, they did love me. They never did anything to make me feel anything less. Hell, neither of them even drank. They never hurt me, and I was never teased more than the normal teasing kids did at school.

I knew that whatever previously happened to me was in the past, and I could actually move on. The doctor asked me if I wanted to find out about the boy I once was, saying they researched that too as much as they could, but I declined. I was killed. back then. I don't feel like finding that person and looking into it would actually help me. I felt that it would just trudge up more grief and loss of time. I had enough answers, and it helped more than I ever thought it could.

I told my parents about it, but I don't think they really cared or understood or believed it. But that was okay by me. I was the only one that mattered there. It helped with a lot of my anxiety and mental health, and it's something I will never forget. At least, I hope the good memories don't leave because I think it's helped the past child and my current life heal from the trauma

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know, this is my first time submitting a story. I gave it a great deal of thought before

deciding to send this in. It's very personal to me and I've told very few people about it, but the stories you tell resonate with me, so I thought I would go ahead and tell my story to you. I'm a 52-year-old female from the UK.

I was born with memories of my previous life, and they were vivid to me before I could talk. My earliest memory is of recalling my own death in the life I lived before this one. I'll start with some background about me, as it's the easiest way for me to work through this, as I've never told this in detail before. I was born into an average family in a nice seaside town in the south of Britain.

I wasn't privileged, but I had everything I needed, and I enjoyed my childhood. Except for the fact that I used to dream I was in a room lying on the floor, and I could see other dead people around me, and people standing over me. I had a pain in the middle of my body. I felt heavy, and all of me went cold except for the center of my body where I seemed to be pulled up towards a bright light that got brighter and larger as I went cold.

My last thought was, why me? I hadn't deserved what had happened to me. Then I was into the lights, and then nothing, until I woke up with the horrible taste in my mouth, the same taste I could smell in my nose. I've since figured out that that taste and smell was blood, but when I was small, I didn't know that. As a child, I would sit up gasping for air

trying to get rid of the stench in my mouth and nose, and then I would look down at my hands and feel confused. Why was I in a child's body? I didn't even know the back of my small hands. I'd think about my name in this life, and it didn't sit right with me. I knew my name used to be something else, but it was gone. These dreams went on for years,

and in my teens, I spoke to a relative who was rather spiritual, and she said, don't worry, it's just a memory from a past life. Sometimes when people die suddenly in the, they haven't lived much of their life, their impatience to come back. You probably came back too soon and you're not supposed to remember how you died, but you do, because you didn't have enough time to heal from your past.

As I got older, the dream faded, but it hadn't left me. I'm still haunted by my last life in many ways, though not in bad ones. I have a sense of belonging with mid-century designs and furniture, and I adore collecting antiques. I've always felt like I'm a handful of years ahead of my real time, like I'd quantum leaped a few years before 62 and landed there but as a child, and had to grow up in a world where, for me, high-tech and sci-fi-type developments came along with what we call modern life.

I feel like I belong to the generation before mine. I hope that makes sense. It's the only way I can describe it. I was also quite older than my years as a child, and I often felt frustrated that I was so young when I felt like an adult, or at least felt as if I remembered being one. I was a very creative person and wanted a career in the arts, but I didn't have the family support for art or drama school.

So I took my own time and made me. my own path in writing. Later in life, I found painting too, and I still enjoy making abstracts. I have a happy family, one adult child, a solid relationship, and I'm told that I don't look my age. But inside, I feel a lot older. Like, I'm not really Generation X, even though my birth certificate says so. Over the years, I've tried to look into my past life. I once searched for crime scenes with people on the floor,

and I saw a picture of the St. Valentine's Day massacre. The way the bodies were littered and the blood, it struck a horrible, familiar cord with me, but only because it was the bodies on the ground, a multiple killing. I felt no affinity with any of the people or that era. and seeing one picture that gave me such chills was enough. I don't delve any deeper into other possibilities,

but it's always there, and to know I've lived before makes me happy to think there's more than just the life that we have. I visited a psychic, who specialized in past life readings, and when I asked her about mine, she went silent and looked away, and then suddenly switched to vague and standard lines about love. life in ancient time and Greece. And when I asked her, what about my most recent life, the one I told you about? She said the same thing my relative had said years before, that sometimes when dying too young and violently, people are impatient, and they rush to come back and bring memories with

them that they shouldn't recall. Then she smiled and started rapidly changing the subject. I've tried through meditations to reach back to my other life, and I've had results that I feel are authentic. I remember I had a fancy fountain pen that had sentimental value. I know I liked music and shopping, and I adored the fashion back then. I get a general sense that I was happy in life

until that life abruptly stopped. But what I would love to know, know, is what happened to me in that life. I died in a horrible way and came back before I was ready. And as a result, my childhood was haunted by the same dream over and over. I hope this account hasn't been too long, as I've never documented it before. But that's my story. And if anyone has any suggestions about why I died and what could have led up to it,

I'd really like to know. Remembering my death right from an early age in this life is a haunting experience and leaves a lot of question marks for me. I hope this isn't too long and I've done my best to lay out the facts of my situation. Maybe some of your listeners can help me unravel the mystery I've tried all my life, but I've never seemed to get anywhere.

And thank you for reading this, Raven. Hi, Raven. It's been a long time since I submitted a story, mostly because I wasn't sure if I really wanted to share this part of my personal history. I've since heard four similar accounts to mine, and figured that maybe it's time to share so more people know they're not alone in this experience. I know it doesn't fit with the themes you've been reading lately, and I will have to censor it a bit for other's safety,

but I assure you that this story isn't just a story. This happened. Also, I want to warn the listeners that the story is graphic and sensitive, so if accidental self-harm is an issue, they should skip it. It was November of 2005. I was visiting family on one of my weekend breaks from the Job Corps. I didn't have contact with my father, so FAFSA denied my application, losing my scholarship to the university I'd been accepted to. After that, I didn't know what I wanted to do, and my best friend was going to job course, so I went with. I was at my brother's house, bored of the few video games I'd brought with me,

and I decided to try an over-the-counter hallucinogen that one of my other siblings had done. I won't state the name of the medication, but the gist is that you take a whole box, and you'll sleep for a couple of hours and then hallucinate. The problem was I had bought the wrong medicine. I did have the hallucinogen, but it also had other medications that could be lethal if overdosed. I fell asleep with my eyes open, waking much later than I expected. My eyes were so dry that it hurt to blink. I tried to stand up and couldn't.

I crawled into the bathroom and began vomiting. My brother came to check on me and I said, I think I need help. Then the jaundice kicked in. My brother and his wife called the hospital. They found the packaging of the medicine and rushed me to the ER. I was so far gone that they admitted me immediately. The doctor tried to get me to drink three glasses of a mixture of activated charcoal and honey,

but I could only hold down the first. Thinking I was resisting treatment, they put me under and pumped it in with a nasal tube. Only I woke up from the anesthesia and ripped that out. Then the doctor ordered scans of my stomach, and while I was lying in the bed waiting, I suddenly felt like I was floating. I opened my eyes and saw myself lying on the bed, with my sister rubbing my back.

I was floating away with no control of where I was going. Then everything went black. I was still aware of myself, but I was no longer floating. I was in a pitch black space. I couldn't see my hands or feet, but I could feel them. I took a step forward, and it echoed. The space sounded like the inside of an enclosed concrete parking garage.

I figured it couldn't go on forever, so I kept walking forward. The echo of my steps sounding like water dripping. I kept calling out. Hello, is anyone there? but I got no answer. I walked with my hands outstretched for what felt like hours, but I never found a wall. And then suddenly,

I felt something grabbed me by my neck and yank me backwards. Not like a hand, but like cold water. Then I was falling back towards my body as doctors were putting paddles away. Everything then went black again. I woke the next day around noon, handcuffed to a bed in a glass room. I'd been moved to self-harm, watch.

The doctor came in and told me that due to the small size of my stomach and the overdose, they thought I had done it intentionally. I explained what happened, but I still had to be cleared by a psychiatrist before I could leave. The doctor told me that I had died for about a minute, but they'd been able to restart my heart. Then, they did an ultrasound, and found that my stomach was much smaller than normal, and since I wasn't waking, they put the nasal tube in my other nostril

and pumped the charcoal in slower, until I had digested enough to absorb the medication. The psychiatrist cleared me, but still wanted me to stay for two weeks, which my family was against since I would be kicked out of my program. I did go back to Job Corps, and was put in their rehab program since it was the closest thing they had to self-harm. I never took that medication again, as the doctor said that my body would likely see it as a harmful substance and reject it.

Honestly, the whole experience changed my entire outlook on life. I had no desire to go back to the black space, and life just seemed so much more bright and colorful. The job core psychiatrist also did more harm than good. They couldn't accept that I didn't want to end. it and they would put me in uncomfortable situations to try to force me to say that I did. I didn't stay there long after being released from the rehab program. I didn't graduate and just came home and got my life going.

Anyway, listeners, don't be stupid like I was. If there's anything on the other side, I didn't find it. And I never did get the experience that I had intended. All in all, abusing any substance is just not worth it. And Raven, as always, thank you. I hope you don't have to edit this too much to be able to use it. Hi, Raven. I want to share an unusual event that happened recently.

I'm not sure how you'd categorize this, but I trust you'll find a way. So on October 27th of 2024, I was unloading the dishwasher and doing it. meal prep for the work week ahead. I was listening to a podcast about angels to entertain myself while completing these tasks. The woman in the podcast explained that people can manifest what they want by connecting to their angels and spirit guides and asking them for exactly what we want or need. She went on to explain that our angels and guides wants to help us, and they want us to manifest positive things in our lives.

As I listened intently, I made a concerted effort to keep an open mind without dismissing her claims altogether. I've shared several stories that you have beautifully narrated for your audience. These stories involved glitches, paranormal experiences, astral projections, and visitations. A few of these stories were about my aunt that passed in 2015. The story that I'm sharing with you now is also about her. You see, I was extremely close to this aunt. And since her passing, visitations, astral projections, dreams, signs, and unexplained experiences have only increased.

From the time I was 11 years old to her deathbed moment in March of 2015, my aunt promised that she would never leave me. In fact, when I was very young, she would lovingly tease that she'd haunt me after she passed. She also had a great sense of humor. She said that she would haunt me from the afterlife as a way of getting me to behave myself or comply with a request. Mostly it was a light-hearted way of telling me, a spicy little girl, that she'd always be with me, even after she was gone. I don't think she wanted to make it a conversation about death. So, as I listened to this woman on the podcast, I began thinking about my aunt and about some of the life challenges I'm currently experiencing. These challenges are nothing too horrible, just the usual run-of-the-mill challenges that life presents.

Then I thought, why not? Why not give it a try? Why not ask my angel, who I assume to be my aunt, to give me a sign that she's around to help? I've had experiences and signs my whole life. Why should this be any different? Why not see if she really is around and willing to help? You see, since I was four years old, I've been what some called highly intuitive. I've seen angels had glitches, out-of-body experiences, astral projections, visions, and a multitude of signs.

I've experienced premonitions both in dream and awake states. my premonitions have come true on a global scale and on a personal level. I'd experience premonitions with no rhyme or reason, or supporting evidence as to why any of these events would transpire. They just sort of happen out of the blue. Based on all these experiences, one would assume that I wouldn't be a skeptic of the supernatural or of unexplained phenomena. One would think I'd be extremely open to that

which we cannot see or explain. Oddly enough, even with countless otherworldly experiences throughout my life, I admittedly still had doubts. I mean, seriously, how could my aunt, who's been gone for nearly a decade,

answer me on command from beyond the veil? Could she? By now, you and your listeners can see that although my skepticism was at the forefront of my mind, I was at least willing to test the idea, as the woman on the podcast was suggesting. Although what I really wanted to do was test my aunt. I wanted to see if she was actually listening to me in that moment.

I wanted to see if she was really there for me and would never leave me, like she promised. I wanted to see if she really had the ability to manifest a sign that would communicate her presence on my command. I decided to give it a go. Why not? What was there to lose? So right there, in my kitchen on a beautiful fall Sunday afternoon, I spoke out loud to my aunt.

I haughtably said, if you can hear me, I want to see a fox now. I live in a coastal area of New England. My home is on a peninsula, so there's more water around us than forest or heavy foliage where a fox are typically spotted. That's not to say there aren't fox in our area. There are, but they are seen quite sporadically. In fact, I've seen a fox two or three times in my backyard in the last five years. I specifically asked my aunt to see a fox knowing that it would be a long shot for her to conjure a fox, and simply make it appear in my field of vision right on command.

After saying it aloud, I started looking out the kitchen window, then I walked a few feet over to the slider and took a good. good long look around my backyard. For a fraction of a second, I thought I saw a fox and I felt hopeful, but it was just a fallen pile of reddish-orange leaves that collected and poked out from underneath one of our evergreen trees. I continued to unload the dishwasher while peering out the kitchen window every few seconds. My skepticism increased with each passing glance.

So, I just continued to unload the dishes and put them in the kitchen. their respective places. No more than two minutes from the time I asked to see a fox when suddenly a fox appeared. I couldn't believe my eyes. Right there, in my very kitchen, was a fox. No, it was not the kind of fox I was expecting to see, but it was a fox nonetheless. While unloading the dishwasher, I reached in and picked up a small collection of appetizer plates in the dishwasher to put them back into the kitchen cabinet.

In that moment, something told me to look down. So, I complied. When I looked down and saw what was in my hand, I was speechless. Right there on top of the small appetizer plate that I was holding was a picture of a fox. I couldn't believe it. It was truly unexpected. I never imagined that it would happen,

like virtually on command. I was imagining a fox, you know, like a real live living creature. Not a picture of one on a small appetizer plate. Certainly not one that I'd be retrieving from unloading the dishwasher. That thought never entered my mind. In that moment of shock and awe, I could telepathically hear my aunt's distinct laugh in my mind. I could clearly hear her saying with her thick,

accent and somewhat broken English. You didn't think I was listening, did you? He didn't think I could do it, huh? You didn't say it had to be a real fox. I felt like she was laughing at me looking out the window and looking out the slider, but not in a mean way. It was so obvious that she was taking complete pleasure in my utter shock. She made it clear to me that she was delighted to be having a little fun with this whole thing,

just as she did when she was alive. It's hard to explain how I knew she was reveling in this moment, but I fully felt it throughout my entire being. I don't think I'd believe it to be any more than a strange coincidence if she hadn't been so true to form and how she telepathically communicated her sheer enjoyment. I continued to feel an absolute awe from what I had just experienced. In the moments that followed, and after telepathically hearing her laugh and speak, I had what some would characterize. eyes has a mental download. I believe she unequivocally saw me looking out the kitchen window for a real fox, while never anticipating I would see one on a small plate.

I also felt she never wanted me to doubt that she was with me, just as she promised. It seemed as if she was flexing her afterlife muscles while maintaining her sense of humor. This was her way of showing me that this was no random coincidence. It was indeed deliberate. In this download, I'm confident that she was trying to communicate that there's so much power and support around me from the other side. I simply just have to ask for help when I need it. I also got the message to be specific.

It was just like the woman on the podcast had said. In retrospect, I recognize that went from a spicy little girl with countless opportunities to see and experience what others could, cannot, to a bit of a rigid adult, always looking for or expecting answers in the way that I anticipate. I'm often gravitating towards skepticism in spite of all my experiences. This seems to be my first line of defense. I feel comfortable with concrete answers that make sense. This is more my comfort zone. As I reflect on so many of my experiences, I realize that I need to trust in the unknown sometimes.

Trust in my intuition, and I don't always need to know the why. In other words, I need to have a little more faith. I don't always have to understand or make sense of things that can't be explained, and I don't have to have all the answers exactly when and how I want them. Honestly, I'm forever grateful for this experience. I know that I'm not alone in this life. Aside from my family and friends, there are angels and guides watching over me. I also know that it's okay to call out to my angels and spirit guides.

I think I've always believed that my aunt is my angel. I guess I just kind of doubted whether or not she's nearby and ready to help. This experience has taught me to trust that, although I can't see things unfolding in certain ways. Or on my time table, it doesn't mean my angels and guides aren't working on my behalf. I hope this experience serves as inspiration for your listeners. I'm sure their angels and guides are around them, waiting to be called upon for help.

And may your angels be with you too, Raven. Thanks. Hi, Raven. I'm listening to your podcast for quite a long period of time, and I have this interesting story that is really scary and still gives me goosebumps when I think about it. I almost remember every single detail of that day. So, basically, in 2020, me and my husband were at a furry convention, and I was just walking

around without my husband trying to find Surs. And then, like, the whole entire world froze or something. I don't even know what happened, but, like, basically just everyone at the convention, like, disappeared. I heard this horrible, sick moaning sweat. I went to investigate it, and I went to this strange back room. There was this tall, thin, pale thing or something with pure black eyes, curled up in a ball with its mouth wide open, and it didn't have any teeth.

It definitely wasn't a human, and it had this awful, dusty, fishy, kind of moldy smell coming from its mouth. I couldn't move at all. Then this creature came up to me and stood in front of my face for what seemed like four hours. Then everything went back to normal and it was just like nothing had happened. I was walking around the convention with my hobby again. I honestly don't know what happened that day. I saw that creature another time when I went to another furry convention

and the exact same thing happened. But this time instead of it being a palish white color, it was reddish and had white eyes. I don't know if it was the same creature or something related to it, but I'm super scared to go back to furry conventions with my husband. It only happens when I go to a convention with SIRS. This experience has completely traumatized me a little because now I have a fear of everything

and I can't really do anything without feeling like I'm being watched because I smell that same dusty, fishy, moldy smell that came from its mouth. I'm really curious if anyone else has seen an interesting creature like this at a furry convention, or just any time at all. I have no idea what this was, maybe some kind of glitch in the Matrix allowing me to connect with demons from hell or something, or maybe a ghost or something. Please just let me know, and thanks for reading my stories.

I love your stories so much, Raven, and thank you. Thank you as well. Okay, so this is going to be pieced together by both events that I was around to witness and things that my cousin told me about. My cousin Amber and I have been close since before we could talk. Our birthdays are literally a week apart, me being the older of the two. We hung out together all the time and even stayed at each other's houses, like best friends.

We were best friends. She was like a sister I never had. I had three brothers, so being with her was a nice escape. As we grew up, we stayed close, and I actually hosted and put together her wedding and baby showers, so you can bet that I was there when her son, Carson, was born. I helped out after he was born when needed, and that's what caught me here. Carson would say or even draw things that a child like him should have no knowledge of.

Carson liked to draw and color. Amber would have to have supplies everywhere, otherwise the boy was prone to picking up a marker and going to town on the walls. She didn't mind him doing it on his bedroom walls. In fact, she encouraged him with a chalkboard paint wall. But she made sure to tell him, that all the other walls, and the walls in other people's houses, were off limits. Most of the time he understood.

But he didn't draw the normal things you would see a kid draw. Stick figures, houses, dinosaurs, or superheroes? No. Carson liked to draw planes, or people holding big guns and wearing helmets. At first, we all thought he was just unusually interested. interested in military history. Maybe he'd seen something on TV. His dad watched a little bit of everything, so it was possible.

But even for a child, his drawing seemed really detailed. It was uncanny. He even drew a person on his wall that was as tall as him. He looked like he was wearing a green jacket and pants. He was holding a long gun and had on a dark helmet. it. He had long brown lines on each side of it that looked like he was supposed to be in the trenches. It was just incredibly detailed. Amber told me that she asked him about it, and he denied seeing it somewhere and claimed that it was him. She asked if he drew himself as a soldier,

like in a movie that he saw his dad watching, and once again he said not only no, but that the movie he watched was all wrong. He mentioned how the uniforms were wrong and explained what they should look like, and talked about the guns that they used. After hearing this, Amber didn't know what to think, so just let him go back to what he was doing and that was the end of it. But one of the things that she couldn't ignore were Carson's fear of loud noises, like fireworks, and the nightmares he would wake up to.

while other kids would be having fun lighting stuff off he would sit back in fear covering his ears he didn't cry or scream it just flat out looked like he was someone getting war flashbacks his eyes would be large he would cover his ears and he seemed to constantly be looking around like he was trying to remember where he was or find an escape route eventually i bought him some really hefty headphones, like those ones from the shooting ranges, and as long as he had those on before the fireworks started, he was okay.

He still didn't like to be around them, not even smoke bombs or sparklers. As for the nightmares, I remember Amber telling me about them, and she looked honestly concerned for him. She said he'd been sleeping in the recliner one night as they were watching TV, and she saw him start shaking or shivering. His brows were furrowed and he was biting hard on his lip. When he would start to cry or whimper, she would wake him up and she would talk him through it, telling him it was only a nightmare.

But he told her, matter-of-factly, that he knew what nightmares were, and that what he was seeing was from his old life. He talked about memories of bombs falling, planes with red circles on their wings, and his friends that he had tried to save. Amber was shocked. She didn't know what to say or tell him. She told me all she could muster were things like, you're safe now.

Then there was an event that I experienced with Carson, too. We had a small get-together, which consisted of Amber's parents, my aunt and uncle, her brother and sister, her husband, and myself. We had all finished eating, and kind of dispersed about the house.

Carson dragged me to his room, wanting to show me something he got recently. While he was showing me his new toy, he stopped to take a drink of his water and coughed, like he'd swallowed it wrong. I patted him on the back and joked around, saying, calm down, Carson, don't drown on me now. But once he caught his breath, he looked me right in the eyes and said,

I wasn't drowning, Lisa. I know what drowning is. I just stopped and, looked at him with my hands raised, like, okay, my bad. But then I was curious. I asked him how he knew what drowning was. I'll never forget the way he looked at me. Like he was about to school me on something I've never heard of before.

He sat on the floor holding his new toy boat and explained how he used to work on a big ship. Before I was Carson, I used to be John. That's when I worked on the ship. There were a lot of planes that flew over, and we all knew what that meant. He explained the loud rumble he heard and how much the ship rocked until it went under. He talked about how cold the water was, and then he drowned. That was the first time I'd personally heard any story like that from Carson, and I firmly believed it was his past life.

There was no doubt in my mind. I asked him for more information about his boat, and he corrected me, and then explained the differences between a boat and a ship. I mean, what more proof would someone need? Why would a small child know not only the finer details between a boat and a ship, but also details of what I could only think to be the attack on Pearl Harbor? We moved on in our conversation and went back to his new toy. Before I left, I told Amber about what he had said to me,

and she said that she was just as shocked. She hadn't gotten that much out of him before. She wanted to see if she could get any more information, so she actually took him to a museum that had a small exhibit on Pearl Harbor, and we were surprised. When he saw some of the replica scale models, he actually gave details of the ships. He pointed out different parts of them and where he worked.

He named off some friends and where they were. He even explained how they all perished, the ones he knew or saw. His voice seemed a little solemn, which is understandable, right? But I asked him if he was sad remembering all of that, and I remember him sighing as he looked up at us with his little round face and said, No, I was told right before I went to sleep for a long time, that I would get to be a boy again because John was a good person. And just like that, he smiled at us and,

was back to exploring the exhibit. From then on, Carson rarely brought up John unless someone asked about it, until, eventually, he stopped talking about it altogether. Some people, myself included, even tried to ask about it, and he told us that he couldn't remember, until at one point he said he didn't know or couldn't remember at all. That was about a year after we took him to the exhibit. it. It was like that finally allowed him to understand what happened and accept it, allowing

John to move on. Amber wanted to look into this John more, but she didn't have much to go off of. John isn't exactly a unique name, especially back then. But she's hopeful that she should be able to narrow it down quite a bit if he was truly on that ship all those years ago. I'm ready to go down that rabbit hole with her, though, and learn more about what my little nephew may have experienced all those years ago. Hi, I'm not sure what this story should be classified as, but I tagged it with a few options. I've always gotten depressed during the autumn time. I'm not sure if it's a vitamin D deficiency issue because of the reduced sunlight, or what,

but I can't sleep at night, and nothing works to keep me awake. It's like there's something draining me. This spirit hasn't always been with me. She only started appearing two years after I moved into my new apartment. Before you ask, no, I didn't do any spells, summonings, or use a Ouija board. From what I know, nothing I did caused this. There's something in my house that gets active during autumn, and I'm not really sure why. It could be because Sawin or Halloween happened around then, so whatever it is becomes active.

I've never really heard of a ghost only showing up during a month. When it starts, I feel like there's a person watching me from my doorways, and when the doors are closed, I can still feel someone standing there, waiting for it to open. So it's making changing the rooms difficult, and I feel extremely. trapped when it does. You know that feeling when you just can't leave a room? It gets worse over time. I start getting nightmares that won't stop or leave me alone,

and then it turns into night terrors where you're awake, but you can't move. I swear I see an old woman standing in the doorway watching me, and I know that I must fall asleep somehow because I wake up the next morning just feeling exhausted. The next night she always gets closer to me, just to the end of my bed, and she waits for me. Gradually it ends up to where she's standing over me, and I can see every single wrinkle in her face. Her skin is green, and her hair's a mass of gray, and she wears this long Victorian-style dress.

Every tooth is sharp, and she has a smile that is far too big. She barely looks human. The longer it happens, the more my allergies get worse, and I always seem to come down with some type of illness. Usually a stomach flu or something where I struggle to keep food down. Whoever this ghost is, eventually she'll be sitting at the end of the bed and watching me, and I'm unable to move, call out for help, or do anything to stop her.

If I manage to whisper for her to go away, laughs at me and keeps going. I know what'll happen next because it happens every single year. She will climb up on my body and sit on my chest, and I will struggle to breathe.

I feel short of breath and usually end up gasping. I don't know why whether I passed out because I'm so scared or what. But I wake up the next day gasping and looking around at my empty room. And she isn't there.

The end of the autumn doesn't really bring me a sense of peace because the hauntings do become worse. The old woman becomes increasingly powerful and aggressive towards me. She'll dig her nails into my face, her face now close to mine, and as soon as the season changes, she disappears. My health at this time is always low, and I seem to get sicker during the wintertime, but I don't have to deal with her. I've never been able to find out the source of how or why. I live in an apartment building that was a big fancy house hundreds of years ago, so maybe she's the homeowner who's angry at me. But why just me?

Why not the other residents of this place? Before people offer these suggestions, I've done cleansing on the house. I've put up protective symbols. I've prayed. I've asked a priest and, witch to come to clean the house, and it's never gotten better or worse after each one tried. I've done everything I can try to to keep whatever it is away.

I don't know what she wants or why she comes back every year, but I'm worried that one day it'll scare me so much that it'll actually kill me, and I think maybe that's what it wants. I think I'll end up moving to see if that helps. I hope that'll put an end to end it once and for all, but I don't know what I'll do if it ends up following me to a new place, because after that, I'm out of options. And I guess I'll just have to accept whatever comes. I never went on rides at amusement parks. I was the designated bagholder, the one who cheered from the sign lines,

perfectly content watching my friends fly through the air. But this time they convinced me, it's just a gentle, old-timey gold mine cart ride, they said, laughing as they nudged me forward. I could already feel a sense of dread, but I ignored it, climbing into the rickety cart and taking a deep breath. The whole setup looked eerie, like a relic from a bygone era,

with dark splintered wood and rustling metal bolts that looked like they hadn't been tightened in decades. The tracks wound through dim, rocked, tunnels and hugged the edge of a cliff, looming ominously over what seemed like a drop into oblivion. As I strapped in, or tried to, my stomach sank. The seatbelt wouldn't click. I tugged at it, desperate, but it refused to buckle. Panic shot through me. Excuse me, my seatbelt isn't buckling, I yelled, looking at the worker a few steps away. But he was already signaling for the cart to move.

unable to hear me over the hum of the machinery and excited chatter around us. Hey, wait, I shouted louder, waving, but then he turned his back completely oblivious. The cart lurched forward and I was thrown back in my seat, gripping the edges for dear life. My friend noticing my pale face looked down at my seatbelt and instantly knew that something was wrong. He grabbed my arm and pulled me closer, his own face tightened. with fear. Just hold on, he whispered as we creaked up the steep incline, with metal grinding beneath us, just climbing higher and higher along the cliff's edge.

Then we plunged, the cart hurtled down the track, whipping around sharp corners, the wind tearing at us as we shot out of the tunnels into the open air along the cliff. I felt myself sliding, slipping out of the seat with every twist. My friend's hand was the only thing anchoring me and I clung to the sides. My fingers aching as the cart rattled along, barely holding on to these ancient tracks. Inside the tunnels, shadows loomed, giving the whole place a haunted feeling. Cold, damp air rushed past, carrying the scent of rust and stone. But outside, where the cliff dropped below, my gaze was fixed on the jagged rocks hundreds of feet down.

The ride swayed as it twisted around. each bend leaning too close to the edge. Every second felt like a battle to stay in my seat, my friend gripping me tighter with each sudden turn. Finally, the ride screeched to a halt, and I staggered out. My legs were shaky, and my heart was pounding like a drum. The adrenaline hadn't faded. It had only morphed into fury.

I saw the worker standing there completely unaware of what I had just gone through. the terror, the helplessness, all of it boiled over. I stormed up to him yelling loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. Do you realize what could have happened? I could have flown out of that cart. My voice echoed sharp with anger and disbelief. People stopped to watch as I let him have it, pointing out how he hadn't done anything to check the seatbelts,

how he hadn't heard me when I was calling for help. I didn't hold back, venting every ounce of fear and frustration right at him. His face went pale, and soon enough, a supervisor came over taking in the situation. I saw them speak quietly off to the side, the worker looking down, nodding sheepishly, and by the time I walked away, I knew he wouldn't be keeping his job. Since that day, I have never set foot on a ride again. I'm back to being the one. holding the bags and cheering from a safe distance, and honestly, that's exactly where I'm going to stay.

I am one of only a few people who had a full past-life spontaneous regression, past-life experience, as an adult, without hypnosis. This was not some kind of mental illness episode, I assure you. I'm a perfectly normal woman, now in my 60s. It happened when I was in my 30s. I was in a difficult, unhappy marriage with young children. I was depressed over some incident that I don't recall now, an argument with my then-husband.

I went into my bedroom because I didn't want my children to see me upset, sat down on my bed, and started to cry. And suddenly, I was no longer in my bedroom. I was another person in another time. and place. I was walking through a Native American village with two white men, and I was showing them the village and telling them about what they were seeing. I had been chosen for this honor because I could speak and understand French like them.

The other villagers were afraid of them, and had never seen white men before. I believe I was a captive who had been traded by another tribe who raided white settlements and stole what they could. These people were not hostile, but peaceful people. I was considered middle-aged. I was married to an important man in the tribe, a chief or a medicine man. I had two sons who I was very proud of, because they were showing themselves to be brave warriors,

and daughters to help me in day-to-day tasks. I had retained my ability to still speak French because I would go to an outpost where a priest, a missionary, lived, so I could speak with him using my first language. As we walked through the village, the trappers remarked how surprised they were that we had laid down planks of wood to walk on, like in white towns. And I was explaining that we must do this in the spring when the ground thaws,

or we would sink in the mud. We were in the woods, and I could smell the scent of balsals. some fir trees and wood smoke from our fires. There were no tepees. There were rounded huts made from sticks and grass and mud. I could feel the rabbit for lining my moccasins and the do-skin of my dress on my thighs as I walked. We approached a large low structure with a stick roof and no walls. I told them that this is what we moved into when the summer approached, so we could catch the breezes,

and it was more comfortable to sleep. I warned them that, as we went inside, that they must not look directly into another family space, as this was considered a rude violation of their privacy. When we arrived at my family space, I welcomed them to sit down and offer them food and drink. As we sat and talked, the scene started to fade, and the walls of my bedroom started to appear.

I was very confused, and I didn't know what was happening. It took at least a full minute or two for the other life to fade completely in my current life to reappear. I didn't remember who and where I was at first, but it slowly came back to me. I spent the next few weeks crying for my other life because it was a much happier one, and I desperately wanted to go back to it. I tried for months afterwards to make a spontaneous regression happen again, but I could not. I was immediately convinced beyond doubt that reincarnation was true, and that I had lived that lifetime hundreds of years before,

even though I grew up as a Catholic and had no knowledge about reincarnation other than having heard of the concept of it. But it changed the whole course of my spiritual beliefs. And for many years, I studied Native American spirituality. It would often go to powwows trying to join in with the indigenous people there to feel like I belonged. But I only felt like I was in exile. I've never had another experience like this, but it seemed to leave a door ajar in my brain. And I've had flashes of memories of other lifetimes since then.

One memory was, as I was watching a tall ship's seat. sail into a harbor in Newport. I suddenly felt a rush of excitement at the sight of it, and had a memory of being a Hawaiian who had fallen in love with a ship captain, and had agreed to leave my sunny island and my people to sail back to New Bedford with him on his whaling ship. I was rejected and treated cruelly by the white people there, and he soon became ashamed of me.

And I died cold and sick, longing to go back to. my warm island and my happy and loving people. In another flash, I was a Jewish grandmother, desperately trying to hide my beloved grandson in the drawer of a built-in kitchen cupboard because the Nazis were coming to arrest us. But he'd been hidden there for a few hours and started to cry as the soldiers were approaching. And my heart sank as I realized I was not going to be able to save him. And when I was a child of only two,

Two, one of my first memories was grabbing on to my mother's leg as she tried to leave me with my grandma so she could take my older brother and sister to see the fireworks on the 4th of July. Because I was certain that if she left the house when the big booming noises started, she would die, and I would never see her again. I was hysterical and shaking and sobbing, begging her not to go. I believe that was the result of a past life memory where I lost my mama to a bombing. I've concluded, after having all these memories, that it really isn't cool or helpful to our current life, that we aren't meant to remember them. It's enough to deal with the life we have now. These are my experiences, and I hope that you find them interesting.

Hey, Raven, I found your channel a few months ago. I especially enjoy your glitch podcasts. I've even had some glitch experiences myself, but they've all been too minor or unimportance to share. This story, however, I wouldn't necessarily classify as a glitch and is a different strange experience that I've had. Anyway, on to the story. I have a memory of waking up and being surrounded by this black abyss, sort of.

I don't really know what to call it. it might have been some sort of tunnel and I know I saw multiple tunnels in front of me. These tunnels had light shining from them with words above them. I remember knowing that this event took place before I was born, for context. And see, it gets much weirder. The tunnels had words above them that had mental and physical characteristics of what I was going to be like when I entered the world. It sounds crazy, I know, and somehow I could read this, and I immediately knew the context. I remember reading somewhere that almost no one besides, like, poets can read their dreams for some reason,

so this probably wasn't a dream. But maybe it was. I don't know. I knew that I had limited time to choose the characteristics of myself or the tunnel that I was going to enter, So, yeah, that's all I really remember of the memory. Also, I don't really remember this as being a dream experience. For one, how hard is it to remember dreams? Well, very.

But the thing about almost no one being able to read in dreams kind of tripped me up. Anyways, I think that I've gone on for too long, and I hope you guys enjoyed this experience. Hey there, friends. I hope that you enjoyed this experience. collection of scary stories on this episode of the As the Raven Dreams podcast. If the platform you're on has the option to follow podcast and you enjoyed my work, please do consider doing so. Also, leaving ratings and reviews are super important for the algorithm to support the

growth of the podcast. I'm just one guy doing this. I don't have a team. It's literally just me doing everything. So any supports like that is greatly a pretty important. Never expected, though. So if you go above and beyond with that, I do appreciate it. Some platforms also allow you to leave comments, and if you feel inclined to do so, please do. I would appreciate that.

I do have a Patreon in a merch store that you can also check out if you want to support a little further. The Patreon side of things get you early access to all of my content. It is formatted differently as it goes in line with what my YouTube channel is, but it is the same stories. Just different collections. There is also a website. as the ravendreams.com, or you can check out pretty much everything about me, my social media platforms, fiction stories I've written if you want to read those, as well as submitting your own stories, which there's a big button on the front page you click to do so. And those stories basically

keep the podcast alive, to be honest with you. So, yeah. All that said, friends, I do hope that I see you again here very soon. Until then, remember that you are loved, that you are valid, that you are important. You're the best you that you can be. Don't forget it. And until next time, much love and sleep well.