As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 196 - Scary Rest Stop Stories & Paranormal Stories.

Episode Date: October 6, 2025

Today, on the 196th 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 Terrifying Rest Stop Stories & Paranormal Encounters. Today's episode was Partially written by Tom K, Find his other works here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DBVX81W7 If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to like or rate the podcast, and leave me a comment with your thoughts if the platform your own supports it! I upload episodes every 3 days, so there are 2 days between new uploads. The podcast consists of new scary story collections, Glitch in the matrix collections, and also what I call the "Dark Dreams" collections (which are older stories, remastered and layered with rain sounds). If you have a story to submit, would like to find where to listen to the podcast, or want to find me on social media platforms, all of that info can be found at https://www.astheravendreams.com You can also send stories into my subreddit (r/theravensdream) or email them to me at [e-mail] Want to check out some ATRD Podcast Merch? ➤ https://teechip.com/stores/astheravendreams Or for signed merch ➤ https://ko-fi.com/AsTheRavenDreams I wrote a novel, "The Insomniac's Experiment" by Raven Adams! Check it out on amazon (Or you can email me for a signed copy!) Join Patreon to get early access and support the Podcast! ➤ https://www.patreon.com/AsTheRavenDreams Check out my gaming channel with my pal Ghost_Ink ➤ @superNefariousBros On YouTube Thank you to all of the authors that have stories in todays episode... Thomas, Tanner, Tom K. , MollyAndMaggie, Emily F., Alyx A. , Riddhi, Worldharmony, Keely, Paige Hubbard As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. TimeStamps… Ad breaks after Story 1 & Story 4 1 ➤ 1:03 2 ➤ 10:57 3 ➤ 23:48 4 ➤ 31:16 5 ➤ 35:06 6 ➤ 37:40 7 ➤ 48:36 8 ➤ 53:05 9 ➤ 1:03:40 10 ➤ 1:10:13 ----- Disclaimer ➤ Episodes include a content warning for language and sensitive/disturbing content. Listener discretion is always advised. ALL Audio and visuals on this podcast are copyright of AS THE RAVEN DREAMS / RAVEN ADAMS and may not be duplicated, in any format. Bless This Mess. None of my audio is AI Generated, I am a real person reading real stories into a real microphone. #ScaryStories #UnexplainedMysteries #RestStopStories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hello and good afternoon, my lovely friends. It is crazy to me that we are already in October. Is it crazy to you? Does I feel like this year is just kind of flown by really fast while all at the same time taking forever to go away? Feels that way for me. Maybe I'm wrong. I don't know. Hopefully you all enjoy the content we have going for October.

I have some good plans going on. Yeah, a lot of stuff going on. a lot of work happening behind the scenes, so hopefully you guys enjoy it. I won't keep you too long. I'll just say today we have some paranormal stories and some rest stop stories, which are definitely some interesting ones. I have not ever done a rest stop topic, so pretty happy to have those on the channel. Yeah.

Hopefully I'll enjoy them. Hopefully I see you again here very soon, but until then, my friends, enjoy these scary stories. This was something that happened to me back in late August of 20th. I was taking a solo road trip driving from Montana to Oregon to attend my sister's wedding. I don't like planes, so if I can drive there, I will do so, even if it does take me longer. But I took a few extra days off work, left before my parents did, because they were flying, and thought that I would just have a nice little trip by myself. The drive was going to be a little over 12 hours, so I expected to stop in between there once to sleep.

The plan was to drive as far as I could, then sleep in my car at a rest stop. I ended up leaving a little later than I wanted, around noon, but I was finally out the door. The trip started fine. I had only stopped about three times. I was in a good mood and still had plenty of energy left in me. I had driven for about eight hours and was now starting to wind down. The first half of the drive was going so smoothly that I was thinking that I might make the entire thing. But I knew that that was probably not going to happen.

My eyes were starting to burn, and my back was killing me, so I knew I was going to have to stop. I rolled the window down to help keep me focused until I came across the next rest stop. The one I stopped at was pretty average. It had an older brick building with restrooms and a few vending machines inside. There were a few covered picnic tables and a small fenced-in dog park on the outside. So pretty average looking and nothing really stood out. In fact, when I pulled in, my car was the only one there. There were no other cars in the lot and none on the truck side either, which wasn't really a surprise.

It was a little after nine when I finally stopped, so it was pretty late. This didn't bother me because I just needed a restroom in a place to park to sleep for a bit. I got out and stretched, which felt great, and used the restroom too, but here's where it got weird. As I was walking out and back to my car, I saw someone standing at the edge of the parking lot, just in the grassy part after it. But it wasn't just some person standing there. It was a clown with a full get-up. He had the fluffy rainbow wig,

the baggy jumpsuit, with bright colors and shapes all over it, the big red nose and the oversized red shoes. His face was even done up. It was painted white with a giant red smile and diamonds around his eyes, with over-exaggerated eyebrows. And he just stood there perfectly still like a statue,

holding a single red balloon in his right hand with the other down to his side. When I tell you that I had the goosebumps, that is a fact, not just a saying. I felt the hair on my arms and neck stand up. I had stopped right at the edge of the sidewalk and stared at him. This clown wasn't moving either. There was a decent amount of distance between us, but I could still see his face clearly enough, that I could tell that he wasn't smiling or frowning or anything, just a lights on but no one's home kind of stare.

It didn't help much that he was standing under a light, which made it that much creepier. We both just stood motionless for what felt like ours. What the hell was he even doing there? There was no reason for a clown to be at that location. Not like anyone was having a kid's party at 9 p.m. at some random highway rest stop. And to make it worse, I broke eye contact long enough to look around and notice that there were still no cars in the parking lot. So how did he get there? I wasn't in the restrooms that long, but I suppose it was possible that someone dropped him off there.

but why? On the off chance that someone else would be there to scare them? Then I did something that I still can't explain. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Maybe it was just a nervous instinct as a way to say, Hey, I see you over there, but I raised my hand and waved. Just a little wave, almost without thinking about it. and as I waved at the strange rest-stop clown, I thought to myself,

What the hell are you doing? So I went to lower my hand, and to my surprise, the clown raised his hand and waved back. But it wasn't a slow, casual wave like mine was. It was an enthusiastic and theatrical gesture with his whole arm. Then he smiled. And even from a distance, I could see his massive, exact, exaggerated, toothy grin spread across his painted face. After waving like that for a few seconds,

he dropped his arm back down and went back to that eerily still position. But the smile remained. Let me tell you, that was terrifying. To see someone smiling like that with no other bodily expressions, it was uncanny. Like I mentioned, the smile was way too forced, too wide, too fixed. like someone who didn't know how to smile. That was enough for me,

so I slowly walked toward my car, trying to sort out my keys without taking my eyes off of this clown. I reached toward my car and went to look at the door to insert the key, when the clown raised his right arm and let go of the balloon. I looked at him as he watched the balloon, which caused me to look up at it too. I watched it float up and up until the sky. until I saw some movement in the corner of my view, as well as heard shuffling toward me.

I looked back down, and I saw that the clown was shuffling his feet quickly in my direction. He wasn't running. He wasn't even hardly walking. It was that little shuffle kids do without picking up their feet. I caught him in the act, getting just a little closer to me, but he stopped once we made eye contact again. I did not like that. I didn't like the idea of him approaching me, and I certainly didn't like that he tried that while I wasn't looking. The whole balloon thing made it seem like a distraction in a way,

even if he was loud about it the entire time. So I unlocked my car without taking my eyes off of him, and his creepy smile, hopped in and immediately locked my door. By the time it took me to start my car and put on my seatbelt, he had managed to get a lot closer to me, to the point that I may have hit him with my car door if I opened it. I slowly backed out of the spot,

went around him and got the hell out of there. I looked back once more as I drove away, and I saw him waving again, but it was more of a slow mechanical wave. I watched for quite some time, making sure that no one followed me from the rest stop. It seemed crazy because I still did not see a single car there, so it wouldn't make sense that someone would follow me. But that just made it all that much worse. I still had no idea where he came from.

If he was standing there when I pulled in, I would have seen him and probably wouldn't have stopped. I wouldn't say that I'm afraid of clowns, but I certainly am not a fan of them, so having this random clown standing around a dark rest stop was pretty freaking terrifying. Was that all he was planning on doing? Was to just stand around and freak people out? What was the purpose of trying to get closer to me? And what would have happened if he had? That experience woke me up enough to go another hour, so until I stopped at a 24-hour gas station instead of sleep.

There were no other events after the clown either, so that was preferred. Once I arrived at my sisters, I told her and a few other people over time what happened. It just became one of those creepy and unexplained things that I was unlucky enough to experience. It wasn't until a few years later that I realized there was this whole clown pandemic thing. and after watching a video about it, I realized that it took place around the same time that I saw that clown at the rest stop. And I wonder if that is what he was doing there. Was it just a copycat?

An art thing? Or just someone trying to get pictures and a little prank? To this day, I still have no idea. And I just hope that it was someone trying to have some fun, and not something more sinister. Lazzangue surgellied, puissance-molyne for 15 minutes. We're like it's their dojo.

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Admire. And enjoy. And enjoy. And enjoy Raveh. Hello, Raven. I've been a listener for years now. Often playing your episodes on repeat

at work or the gym. I love your cryptic collection and anything you cover on creepy things in the woods. I know you run this by yourself, so keep up the amazing work. Thank you for that. My story is not of the crypted variety, but a paranormal encounter. And it stuck with me since childhood. I'm nearly 28 now.

I grew up in a small lakeside town in eastern Michigan, friendly, easygoing, and full of happy people in old neighborhoods. Growing up, I lived in my dad's old childhood home, which his family had moved into in the early 1950s. It's a small white house, very quaint with two little bedrooms, a large attic that served as a third bedroom, a little living room, and a standard kitchen. Eventually, after having two kids, my sister, Mallory, who's six years older than me, and myself, my parents had an addition put on to the back of the house. the house to include a dining room, family room, and a second full bathroom to accommodate the

increase in family size. Perhaps creepy things were already happening before I was old enough to realize them, but my earliest memory of the happenings in that house is when my sister, in her preteens at the time, started to complain about a shadow man she kept seeing around the house. Mallory's bedroom was in the attic, and she recanted a memory of coming down the stairs, in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. The attic stairs led down to the living room, which opens into a narrow hallway with a bathroom

and two doorways at the end facing each other, my room and my parents. As Mallory cautiously eased her way through the dark living room and passed by my parents' open bedroom door, she did a double take. Standing behind my dad's side of the bed was the unmistakable form of a very tall man with the hat. Not the hat man,

per se, no glowing red eyes or trench coat. And my sister didn't struggle with any of the conditions people who see the hat man do, like sleep paralysis. She saw the form of a man, average build, standing over my parents while they soundly slept. Upon telling the story, Mallory mentioned that she felt no sense of fear, dread, or really any negative emotion. She remembered feeling surprised by this. and instead felt a steady sense of calm and even safety.

She made her way back upstairs and went back to sleep with no issue. After telling the story to my parents, they laughed and said, Oh, that's Robert. He's been here for as long as we can remember, as if it were the most natural and obvious explanation. Being about six or seven at the time, I was freaked out, and not at all okay with this so-called Robert, Robert entity in our house.

My parents assured me that he had never caused any harm and that he was just watching over us. Over time, Mallory and I grew to be okay with this, despite my initial reaction. Good thing, too, because Robert was very active. He creaked floors, appeared in dark corners, that identifiable hat always perched on his head. once he even proved his good nature by moving a panhandle off of a burner right in front of me, my sister, and my mom. My mom had been cooking dinner and without thinking left a metal panhandle over a stove burner that was set on high. Had she gone to grab it, it would have severely burned her hand and caused major damage.

The three of us watched with our own eyes as that pan did a full 180-degree turn on the stove. moving the handle to a cool burner so it wouldn't burn my mom. She said a big, thank you, Robert, and we all chuckled at his kindness. Still, something was always off. Even knowing how benevolent Robert had proven to be, I still didn't want to run into him. I could never get up to go to the bathroom at night, despite my parents being right across the hall from my room with an open door.

I would wake up, have that awful sensation on the hair of the back of my neck sticking up, too afraid of what was on either side of my bed if I turned my head. Because the thought that was always in the back of my head was, what if it wasn't Robert that was causing these feelings of dread? What if there was something else in this house that Robert was protecting us from? Besides hot pans, of course. I hated being left alone, would often sprint from room to room, as I turned lights off behind me to make sure I never got caught in the dark. As I got older, and could be left unattended, I dreaded the rare moments that I was left home alone, especially as evening set in.

I couldn't stand to be in the addition of our house alone, as it was the largest area of our home and had the most hiding spaces. The basement was also off-limits being a dark, dank, terrifying storage unit of towering boxes and strange shadows. At any moment, I was sure that something other than Robert would appear. One school night when I was around 12 years old, my sister was at volleyball practice, my dad was at work, as he had transitioned to night shifts at the time, and my mom was finishing dinner while I sat at the dining room table to do homework. Our neighbor, Jane, called out of the blue to ask my mom if she'd be willing to dog sit unexpectedly, as she'd been called into work. My mom agreed, hung up, looked at me saying, I'm just going to run across the street to talk to Jane and get everything for her dog.

I'll be back in a little while, okay? I'm sure that she saw me hesitate, as she added, it'll just be for a little while, and your sister will be home soon. I stared, large-eyed and terrified as she walked out the door and across the street. I sat at the table and continued to do homework, telling myself, It's only for a little while, right? Nothing bad can happen in just a little while. I repeated this to myself as I wrote my essay, and eventually the distraction of work took over and calmed me down for my state of distress.

It had probably been about 20 minutes at this point, and I assumed that my mom got stuck talking to Jane in a classic Midwestern goodbye. Another while passed, and I heard a sound, the unmistakable creak of a door near the landing that went down to the basement. I was startled, at first, almost ready to panic, but then I remembered that Mallory was due home from volleyball at any minute. I heard the groan of the floor by the doorway and footsteps jostling down the basement stairs, accompanied by a giggling, and a soft voice that sounded exactly like Mallory's saying,

Come on, come over here. Still calm based on my assumption that Mallory was home. I called out, You know, I hate the basement, Mallory. Just come back upstairs and sit down. Again, that voice called out. Come here. Come here.

Cut it out, I said again. More irritated now at my sister. but no one responded. That's weird, I thought. She's literally just around the corner. She should have heard me. I got up, walking across the kitchen to the basement stairs by our side door, where Mallory had just come in.

I peered down the basement steps, but it was dark and no one was there. At least, not that I could see. As a feeling of dread came into my stomach, the door next to me suddenly opened, causing me to be. scream out. There was Mallory, home from volleyball, and my mom right behind her with Jane's golden retriever Rea. The three of them cascaded in the door asking me what I was doing. I burst into tears grabbing Mallory's shirt and demanding to know where she had just been. I just got home, what are you talking about? Mallory said, obviously concerned.

My mom chimed in. Sweetie, Mallory just got out of the car and met me in the driveway, before I came in. No one has been here except for you for 30 minutes. I heard someone giggling and running on the stairs, I cried. They told me to come down there with them, and I assumed it was Mallory playing a joke. I was seriously freaking out. I mean, there had never been voices before,

and there had never been children's footsteps running around or luring someone to come with them. My sister and mom didn't seem to know what, to do about this, as they hadn't heard it themselves. They didn't necessarily dismiss me, but they said that it must have been Robert. No matter how much I explained that it definitely was not Robert, no one seemed to care. Maybe they were already too desensitized to paranormal activity, or they just knew that I was the biggest scaredy cat of the family.

We sat down for dinner and carried on with the evening, me on edge the whole time. That night, after dinner, Raya, the neighbor's dog, was sitting in the living room with us, when she started growling and scratching at the floor. The section of the living room was situated right above the main storage area of the basement, where the voice and footsteps had led and were trying to lead me. Raya, what's wrong, girl? My mom asked, but her growling soon turned to snarling, as she continued to dig at the living room carpet in a frenzy.

pacing the room back and forth in between scratches and barks. This freaked out my mom enough to look at me and say, I'm checking the basement, and she immediately went to the stairs, turned on the lights, and brought a flashlight for the areas that always seemed dark. After a few moments of Mallory and me cowering on the stair landing holding a still whimpering Rhea,

and waiting for my mom to return, she came back up looking relieved. Well, there's nothing down there. I was worried a little bit that maybe someone had broken in and was in our basement, but all clear. We're okay. But it didn't feel okay. Later that night, Mallory and I went onto the family computer. Yes, this was back when you had one desktop computer for the whole family.

And we looked up information like hearing children's voices, and children's voices luring me somewhere. Sure enough, we found it. multiple articles and websites talking about how a demonic presence will often mimic or create a doppelganger of someone you know, and trust to entice you to come closer to them. There are various beliefs and myths about spirits that mimic the living for nefarious purposes, and many stories about spirits who exist to protect innocent people from these entities, like Robert, I said to Mallory.

As we continue to read about what we can only distinguish. describe as a mimic demon. Nothing like this has ever happened again, and with time Robert's presence also dissipated. Eventually, we moved out of that house, but still owned it. My dad was letting my aunt live there full time. I haven't been inside in years, but any time I was, I always felt that lingering sense of being watched or pursued in some way. If that was a mimic, what was it trying to lure me?

me into. What intent did it have? Is it still there? Did Robert protect me while I was home alone from something sinister? Whatever it was and whatever its intent, to the mimic residing in my childhood home, I hope that we never meet again. Hi from Minneapolis, and welcome to Minnesota. Thank you. The company I work for used to have me traveling for work a lot. However, it was always to the same places because I was basically the only guy that could train people on the machines that we used. So when there was an issue with said machines, or if they hired new people that used them, I had to be there to help out. Therefore, I've always rented, and I have a lot of hotel rewards points.

but the reason I'm writing to you today is to share a story that you reminded me about that happened to me on one of those drives to help with a new training class. I was driving from a city on the outskirts of Minneapolis to Illinois, so not too long of a drive, but it was a pretty boring one. To be more exact, Iowa is a boring drive, very much agree. Unless you're in Des Moines, it's pretty empty and there's not much to see. but one thing I've noticed in Iowa specifically, and maybe it's like this in other states too, but in Iowa, their bathroom stalls in the rest stops are ridiculously short, and I don't understand why.

If you haven't been blessed with stopping at a rest stop in Iowa, then maybe this will help. I'm a male and about 5'7, which isn't exactly towering, but in one of those short rest-stop stalls, I can literally rest my chin on top of the stall walls without even trying. Even the bottoms are raised higher, leaving maybe a foot and a half gap at the bottom. It's like they were designed to cover the important parts,

and then everything else was just an afterthought. So, anyway, there I was on this drive by myself, when nature called with that intensity that comes from, too much coffee, and not enough bathroom breaks. I made it just outside Des Moines, not wanting to deal with the traffic, but the closest thing available was a rest stop, so that's where I went. I pulled into one of those typical rest stop areas, and from the outside, it looked totally normal. There were some old picnic tables that looked like they hadn't been used or treated

since the early 90s. There was a semi-parked in the truck area and a beat-up looking sedan that looked like it had seen better decades. There was the small brick building where the restrooms were with those high fluorescent lights that make everyone look like they're dying, and the old hand-driars that do nothing but lightly breathe on you. I walked into the men's side that had the three urinals, three stalls, and the smell of industrial strength disinfectant, mixed with something less pleasant. Basically, it was your normal side of the road rest stop.

It seemed empty, which was even better, so I picked the middle stall, noting again how absurdly short these things were. I have a smart watch that connects to my phone, so when I felt my watch buzz, I looked at it. That's when something changed. The light above me seemed to dim, like a shadow had passed overhead, but that didn't make any sense. I was inside of a windowless building with lights and definitely no sunroof, so I looked up. There was a guy staring straight down at me from above the stall partition, eyes wide, unblinking and locked onto mine. And to further add that this was not just some nosy or accidental glance over the wall, he had this unsettling smile.

not friendly or embarrassed like you would expect from someone who accidentally looked over a stall, no, this was deliberate, like predatory. His hands were gripping the top of the partition, like he had just been hanging there watching for God knows how long. For a split second, we just stared at each other, not knowing what to do or more so just trying to process what I was seeing, until my fight or flight response finally decided to kick in. This was creepy and unsettling and just really confusing for me.

I hope none of you have been in a similar situation, but how exactly does one handle that situation? I had to try and, well, finish what I was doing, but also to get this man to stop staring at me. So I started by shouting at him. I remember using some very not so nice words and telling him to get the F away from me but the guy didn't even flinch

he just continued staring at me and smiling I stood up and quickly pulled up my pants and then brought my arm back like I was going to swing at this guy that is when he finally pulled back he looked back into his own stall and said in an almost disappointed tone Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else.

I didn't stick around to ask any questions. I called him something and then quickly left the restrooms, nearly running back to my car. My hands were shaking as I got back in and locked the doors immediately. I sat there for a good ten minutes, engine running, watching the building. I wanted to see this guy that thought it was perfectly normal to watch people in those, moments. The thing is, he never came out. So after about ten minutes of waiting, I had calmed down enough and told myself that I just needed to get out of there and I left. It wasn't until I was

back on the road and thinking the whole thing over when it finally hit me. No lie, he said, I thought you were someone else. Who the hell exactly was he expecting to find in the men's restroom at a rest stop on some random evening. Was that something he just frequently did? Did he know someone else that was supposed to be there? But then I started thinking more like, what if he thought he was in the women's stalls? Was that his intention?

Because that thought made me sick. Either way, this grown man was peering over a stall excitedly at me. and then thought that I was someone else. But to be honest, I'm glad that it was me over someone a little more vulnerable. I was at least able to scare the guy, and hopefully that was enough to make him not want to do what he did again. But let me tell you, I do whatever I can to not stop in Iowa, and if I have to stop, I plan for gas stations, because there is no way I am going back to why. one of their rest stops.

My grandpa and I shared the same birthday. When I was born, he told my mom that I was the best gift that she could have given him. We had this special bond, one that I can't explain. Unfortunately, for me, he died when I was 11. I'm 34 now, and I never got to know him as an adult. But amongst the many memories I have with him, I will never forget this one. My grandpa somehow knew his death was near. At the end few years of his life, he lived in a nursing home in our small town.

His room had a large bay window that looked right out into the front courtyard. He so very much enjoyed this window. He would admire squirrels, bunnies, even passing by traffic on the street and sidewalk. He loved this bay window so much. I'm given the backstory and sentiment of. of this bay window, also a brief description of his living situation, because it bears significant later on. About every other day, my grandma, his wife, and I would go to the local dollar store and buy his favorite snacks and visit him. Lemonhead's candies were his favorite,

and I picked them up every time for him. Another thing Grandma and I did for him was decorate his space for holidays. The year he passed, I remember so vividly around Christmas and for New Year's, we put up some decorative window clings on his beloved bay window. They were angels playing horns, stars, just saying things like, Happy New Year, Merry Christmas. Random holiday-themed things like Christmas trees, presents, etc. A few days after New Year's was over, Grandma and I visited to Redemption. decorate his space for the next upcoming holiday.

We were taking off the window clings, and my grandpa says, Leave the angels. I'm going to need them soon. They'll help me home. At the time, being 11, I remember hardly understanding the mystic and stoic sentiment of his statement. But my grandma was shocked. She said, no, no, I'm taking it all down. That's not true. He pleaded with her. No, please. Keep the angels up. I'm going to need them.

My grandma sighed in disbelief, but we did leave the angel clings on his bay window. My grandpa passed away in that very room six days later. After his passing, we were collecting his things from his room. We get to the window side of the room, and my grandma and I are shocked, as the memory of him asking to keep them up hit both of us. I'll never understand how we could have possibly known that this time was coming. Now as an adult and having experienced my own premonitions, etc., I wonder how all this came to him.

Did he see it happen in a dream? Did he have a deja vu of the moment? Was it a vision or just simply a thought he couldn't shake? I'll never know, and I still ponder the whole situation sometimes. I still have those same angel window clings in my memory. box as a keepsake. Holding on to them not only reminds me of him, but also of the innate power of the universe that we cannot explain.

The one thing I do know for certain is that I can only hope someday I'm at peace with leaving this earth like he was. This happened with me a few days ago. When I was returning home late in the evening by subway, or as we call it the metro, Among all the metro stations in our city, one is said to be haunted. That was the one where my family and I were waiting for the last train of the day. It wasn't too late at night, but since it was the last train, the station was not as busy as it usually gets. It was my third visit to the station, and I didn't see or feel anything the previous two times.

It's common for people to jump in front of running trains, but that doesn't make every station haunted. I couldn't understand why this specific subway station had that kind of a reputation until that day. I was waiting on the platform with two family members. There were a handful of strangers minding their own business. But there was this one girl that appeared weird. She was wearing a plain white gown. Her black hair was down and she didn't have any luggage with her. And she was facing the wide pillar.

She appeared odd, but in our city it's not uncommon. to encounter crazy people in the streets. After staring and gossiping about her for a minute, we shifted our attention. The last train arrived shortly after, and one of my family members had looked in the other direction as the train headlight was hurting her eyes. That's when she noticed that girl again. I'm glad that she brought our attention to the girl as well, because, although scary, it was my first time experiencing something like this

I kind of liked the thrill. The bright light fell on her body, and she started to, well, I'm unable to find the right word, but, like her entire figure began to fade, dissolve, evaporate, and when the light passed her, it was an empty spot. No girl, no soul. It was freaky as hell, but no one else, besides us three, seemed to have noticed it.

It was spooky, but we didn't feel. feel unsettled. The vibe was hollow okay. Many people have ended their lives in those tracks. We didn't inquire about it, but that must have been some poor girl who died there. It can't be my imagination as all three of us witnessed it happening. Just a few years ago, my daughter and I took a road trip from our home in Kentucky to see my sister and her little family in Florida. She had just had her third kid and her oldest. was just a few months older than my daughter. Our kids got to play together for a little while

before they moved to Florida, but they had been so young that they didn't have much memory of it. I wanted her to know her cousins, and I, my nieces and nephews, so I was excited to go see them. I was far from wealthy, but I wasn't struggling and plane tickets were too expensive, so I just decided we could drive there.

I hadn't done something like that, this with my daughter yet, so I thought it could be fun with the two of us, and just seeing how she would handle it. She was nine at the time, so still pretty young, but she's also very observant and a curious child, so I knew it would be entertaining the whole way through. We got the car packed up the night before and then left the next morning around 6 a.m. The drive was going to be a minimum of 10 hours, but I knew that we would have to stop a few times, which would add to it, and that was fine. I was hoping we might come across some interesting places to stop along the way, too.

The drive started out smoothly. My daughter, Maggie, was still in and out of sleep in the first hour or so, which helped me get out of the city quickly. Afterwards, she was fully awake and watching everything outside, asking all the questions and wanting to take pictures of everything, too. So we were having a lot of fun. But, as kids do, she did start to get a little restless. So I looked for a rest stop for us to stop at and have a little lunch. I had packed a cooler full of sandwiches and lots of snacks for us to eat along the way. So I thought we could stretch out and have lunch there.

We stopped right outside of Atlanta, Georgia, and the place even looked pretty nice. There were a few other cars in the parking lot and people walking around. There were some picnic tables covered by gazebos, so I suggested that we have lunch there. When we pulled in, I had my windows cracked, as it was a nice day, so I could hear the small bantering from others around us. But I could also hear a man talking that was close to the building. He had one of those reflective vests on with the black shirt underneath and khakis. He was right by the entrance to the building and facing out towards the grassy area, just, talking. At first glance, I assumed that he was talking to someone standing behind the large

bronze statue. I think if it was of a woman holding a kid or something like that. It was large enough that I couldn't see anyone or anything on the other side of it. Anyway, I saw him holding one of those long grabber arms and talking, as he would look back towards that statue. We got out of the car and started walking toward the building, and that's when I could really hear the man's speaking. It sounded like he was explaining the process for picking up and taking out the trash bags, and he sounded a bit irritated as he spoke. I looked over to see who was getting the stern talking to, and to my surprise, no one was behind the statue like I thought. A little odd, but I shrugged, thinking maybe it was just him fuming about something being done wrong, or maybe the person he was

talking to had walked around the building where I hadn't seen them. Either way, it was none of my concerns, so we just entered the building and used the restroom. Once we finished, we left the building, saw the guys still standing nearby and talking to himself, and Maggie chose a table to sit at. We both walked back to my car, me not being comfortable with her being anywhere by herself, and we grabbed our food. We went to Maggie's table of choice, which was kind of. close to the statue.

I knew she had taken a liking to it, so I wasn't surprised that she chose it. Anyway, we sat at the table and we had our sandwich, chips, and grapes, and that's when I really started paying attention to the worker. He was still constantly talking. I had a clear view of the area now, and this wasn't just muttering to himself. And there was definitely no one else around that he could have been talking to. He would say something, there would be a pause as if someone was talking, and then he would say something again. And before anyone asks, no, he wasn't even wearing some kind of earpiece.

We were close enough for me to look at his face and ears when we walked in and out of the building, and as we sat with our lunch, and he turned his head. I was having a hard time both keeping an eye on this guy while also paying attention to my daughter. She was talking and asking questions about where we were, but this guy was getting progressively more and more angry. His voice would get louder. He would let out one of those sarcastic, angry laughs, the ones you hear during an argument, like,

huh. Unfortunately, the louder he got, the more attention Maggie was starting to pay attention to him. She asked if he was mad on who he was talking to, and I had to explain to her that I didn't know and to just focus on our lunch. But as I tried to ignore him too, he got louder, shouting things like, should have listened, I told you no,

and some other things. I could see a few people walking around staring at him too, and Maggie was paying full attention. I could tell by her body movements that she was starting to feel uncomfortable, and I didn't like that. So I started putting everything in the bag and asked Maggie to carry her chip,

and hold my hand as we walked back to the car. We were back on the sidewalk leading to the parking lot when Maggie, being a child, was still staring at this man while he was yelling. He apparently made eye contact with her too when I heard him shout, You! And then pointed at us. He started storming toward us, and I yanked Maggie to stay behind me. My heart was pounding as he stopped right in front of us and yelled,

You just don't understand. Nobody does. And then snatched the bag from me, threw it on the ground, and began stomping on it. I heard Maggie gasp and picked her up to hold her as the man began punching the cement trash can holder over and over. I was frozen in fear, knowing that I needed to take this time to run to my car, but I just couldn't move and I still hate myself for that. Thankfully, there were other adults there to witness this. Soon, two younger guys ran up to us and stood between the man and us telling him that he needed to leave. The angry man got in the face of one man, and I feared that I was about to watch a fight. I didn't want Maggie to see it, so I finally broke out of my stupor and dashed to the car.

I got Maggie in the back seat, told her to buckle in and closed the door locking it. I stood by my door and watched as the two men walked with the angry guy toward the entrance. The angry guy continued to shout, and I heard one of the men tell him to go until the angry guy threw his hands up, flipped the bird, and walked into the building. The three were now inside, and I could just barely see one of the men off to the side. I got in my car and waited, wanting to make sure that everything was okay, and I calmed Maggie down. Shortly after, the two men walked out, one stood by the door watching where the angry guy entered, and the other one walked down the sidewalk and grabbed my bag that I had forgotten all about.

I rolled down the window and handed me my now dirty bag with the hull of our chips crushed, and the rest of our grapes and sandwiches turned to mush. I'm just glad that I only grabbed the two sandwiches, and I didn't pull out the entire cooler, so at least we weren't completely without. I thanked the man and he asked us if we were okay. Maggie wasn't crying anymore and was now playing with one of the dolls that she brought, so I assumed that she was just shaken up a bit. The man explained that the guy obviously worked there,

not only based on him trying to clean up and wearing the vest, but he also went into an employee office of some sort, using a code. He said that they were going to call the cops because they were concerned that he may try to do something like that again, or maybe get worse. I agreed, because his actions terrified both of us. And what if he decided to swing on someone instead of the trash bin? I don't know what was wrong with him,

and I assumed it was something more than just a bad mood since he was clearly arguing with himself. I thanked him for stepping up and letting us get back to my car, but when he asked if we wanted to make a statement, I declined. I didn't want to be there any longer. I didn't want to scare Maggie anymore, and to be honest, we still had five or six hours left to drive. He understood, and he made sure we were okay once more before we left.

On our way out, I actually saw two cops coming from the opposite direction, wondering if they were heading to that rest stop. Once back on the road, Maggie asked a few questions about the men, as expected, and then she was back to her normal self, and even took a nap. I was able to compose myself, too, and was no longer shaking. The rest of the drive was fine, and even the rest stop that we went to after that, was pretty empty, so no interactions with people, thankfully. I kept to gas stations as much as I could.

Thankfully, we got to my sister's place with no other issues, and didn't have anything nearly as terrifying happened while we were there. So, to whoever those men were who stood up to that angry man, thank you so much, because I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't. And to the angry man, I hope you're doing better these days, but also, let's just never meet again. I'm a newer listener to the podcast, but I've been listening to the glitch stories nonstop since discovering as the Raven Dreams.

This experience isn't a glitch, though. I want to share a story about a physical sign I received from beyond during my late teens. My sister and I were still living at home. We lived about 45 minutes from the nursing home that my maternal grandmother had been moved to. Inevitably, we received the call. And my mom, sister and I bundled into the car and headed out to be with it. with her. I had never experienced death up close. Upon arrival at the home, I became so uncomfortable with the idea of being in the room at the time of death, especially with my distraught mother crying,

which she rarely ever did, and my sister short of temper, then I finally left the room and sat in the car. I felt useless. As I sat in the car, feeling overwhelmed with guilt and afraid that I'd be seen as abandoning my family, I began wondering when I should return to the room. I didn't want to inadvertently witness the death, yet I didn't want to arrive late and appear uncaring. I'm not religious, but I asked for a sign. I remember seeing a bird and wondering if that was the sign, and then I saw a distant jagged bolt of lightning and wondered if that was the sign. I finally gave up the silly notion of a sign and went back inside the nursing home. Thank goodness she had died.

I wasn't happy that she was gone, of course, but grateful not to have been there to witness my mother's pain at the moment of her passing. Plus, the whole death thing was a bit spooky for me. The feeling of guilt wouldn't leave me, and I couldn't say anything because I wasn't about to make this about me. But I couldn't get over the question of what time my grandmother had died. Did I return soon enough afterward to be of some comfort to my mom, or was I late and disrespectful? On the highway home, I was in mental anguish, so I just stared out the passenger window in this sad, quiet car, overwhelmed with the thought of what time my grandmother had died. I guess I didn't know what else to do. Then, I suddenly noticed an unusual-looking car passing us on the right.

It was a powder blue and looked like something from the 1950s, although it appeared to be in new condition. Inside was a very old white couple, both with white hair. The man was at the wheel. They both looked straight ahead, and as the car fully passed us, I saw the license plate, DTH 309. I immediately knew that this was a message to me. I knew without a doubt that it meant death at 309. My anguish about the time of death was immediately eased.

I can't describe how much that message meant to me. When the death certificate arrived in the mail later, I knew what it would say, but I had to look for the time of death anyway. Sure enough, it was 309 p.m. For years, I assumed the sign came from my grandmother. Over time, I began to think maybe it was from another relative or guardian angel. Later, I began studying new-age spiritual ideas and have come to the idea that an intermediary of some sort from beyond reached out to me. Since childhood, I'd collected license plate imagery and loved siding plates from states I hadn't come across yet.

I believe this intermediary contacted me using the type of symbol that I would understand, and I'm forever grateful. I recently lost both of my parents, and although I'm not expecting any signs, I'm half hoping for a flock of quails as a symbol. I'll let you know if it happens. Now, I want to start this write up off a little bit differently than usual, because while I know this won't be going live until long,

August, you are correct, Tom. I'm writing this in July. July 18th, to be exact, and I only make this so specifically known because I picked this case rather arbitrarily, because at a glance it seemed like an interesting case with some substance to it. Well, upon diving into the meat and potatoes of the research,

it was discovered that the anniversary of this case was exactly 23 years ago that day. It felt like some kind of surreal, moment of pure harmony with the universe. With that being said, let's get into Alexandra Nicole Zapp's heart-breaking story. Alexandra Zapp, or Allie, received a phone call on July 18, 2002,

from a friend of hers named David Scully. He invited Allie to come to a charity Sunset Cruise with him and Allie happily agreed. She met her friend that evening, and they set off on the boat for a night of dancing, drinking, and making merry. They talked about their work, their passions, and what they hoped for in the future. Ali had recently left her job with U.S. sailing so that she would be able to relocate to New Zealand,

pursuing her dream of sailing on an America's cup boat. While talking about her traveling plans and watching planes fly in and out of Logan International Airport, Ali told Scully, that's what I'm going to do next. I'm going to fly planes. Allie was not originally from the East Coast. She had been born and raised in Portland, Oregon. In 1988, she did go to a boarding school in Connecticut,

but once she had graduated from there, she was back in Portland attending the University of Oregon for two years before she accepted an editing position in New England, which saw her relocate to Boston Mass. And Allie wasted little time getting involved in many of the charities located in her area, including the French Library, the Boston Ballet, and Courageous Sailing Center, where she taught children how to sail. In November of 2001, Allie took a job with U.S. sailing and made the move from Boston to Newport, Rhode Island,

which was where she was living the night she accepted David Scully's invitation to join him on the charity cruise. After the boat returned to the dock, Allie and Scully went to a concert at the Fleet Boston Pavilion. A little after 11 p.m., Scully drove Allie back to her car, apologetic that they had not had more to eat while they were out on the boat. In good spirits, Allie assured him that she would be fine and opened her glove compartment, showing Scully the half dozen or so power bars that she had stashed there. Besides, she told Scully, I can always stop at a Burger King on my way back. to Newport.

And that would turn out to be a truly fateful decision for the young woman. And sadly, while Allie could not possibly know what she was driving towards, she climbed in her vehicle, hopped on I-94 and began her trip back to her home in Newport. Once she had gotten off I-94 and onto the desolate stretch of Route 24, Allie made good on her promise to stop at a Burger King, when she pulled into the Burger King rest stop and Bridgeway. water. Before making her way to the restaurant, she went to the public bathrooms marked open 24 hours to make her own little pit stop. But little did she know that the second she pulled into the parking lot and had gotten out of her car, she had caught the eyes of a very dangerous and impulsive

predator. Though that awareness would be shattered the moment she opened the restroom door, and she saw a man standing there with a knife in his right hand. Ali fought, and she fought hard. When her assailant clamped his hand over her mouth, Ali bit his fingers. When he put her in a chokehold, she clawed his forearms. She headbuttered him, kicked him, and screamed, but it was no use. For all of her fierceness, the attacker was twice her size and armed.

She was stabbed numerous times in the neck and chest. Then her attacker propped her up in a bathroom stall, and completely unrecognizable as she sat with blood flowing out from where she rested. And now, this heinous assault leaves us with a very important question. Who was the monster that committed

such an atrocity on a vibrant young woman like Ali Zap? For this, we have to pivot toward the monster that they let free. We actually know a lot about Allie's killer. In fact, we pretty much know his entire life story. Although I'm not going to regale you with his entire story, we'll start where, as they say,

things become relevant to the conversation. Paul Leahy, despite a fairly stable upbringing, was a high school dropout and drug addict by the time he was 18. In the wake of his mother's passing, his behavior only escalated and he became a sexually violent and deviant young man that in 1984 attacked a 13-year-old babysitter at his brother's home, and essayed her while holding a knife to her throat. His story really doesn't get much better from there.

Over the next several years, he would spend time in and out of prison, on probation, and all the while still indulging in his deviant behavior, and each time being released back out onto the streets. Several times, judges in the justice system had chances to put this predator with no obvious signs of changing his violent and miscreant ways, behind bars, and away from the young women that he seemed to enjoy tormenting so much. Each time, though, some judge would cite that the prosecution had failed to prove this,

or even at one point, asking a 13-year-old girl for oral is not on the list of a sexually delineated offense spelled out in the law, which, as an aside, is sickening. And so once more, a predator was let loose among the unsuspecting women of New England. And while the legal arguments around Leahy were going on, he was released from prison and moved back in with his sister and her new husband. The couple shouldered the financial responsibility of Leahy's court costs, and they provided his food and cigarettes, and for the first few months, his biggest contributions were in the

form of taking care of their dogs and other domestic chores around the house. Until he was able to land a job working the late night shift at the Bridgewater Bridgewater Burger King, a job which his brother-in-law drove him to every night. And on the night of July 17, 2002, on his way to work, Leahy was especially giddy because it was payday. From there, the aftermath. In the moments after the attack on Allie, an off-duty state police officer, Stephen O'Reilly, had heard Allie's last frantic screams, followed by a loud thump, and then rushing water

while he was in the nearby men's restroom. He approached the women's restroom with his gun drawn. It didn't take long to spot the river and lakes of blood, and Leahy was standing at the sink with a deranged look in his eyes. When O'Reilly asked what happened, Leahy just said over and over, I lost it. Of course, Leahy would plead not guilty of the murder, despite having been caught all but in the act.

Ali's parents came to the East Coast and set up an office in the Fairmount-Copley Plaza Hotel, where they began working with the Plymouth County Sheriff's Office. And this is where a lot of the truly atrocious facts about Leahy's past and the repeated releases after numerous violent crimes against the young women and girls of New England. This particular case also came at a time that was very dangerous for women in the Boston area. Just two days before the attack of Alice, Ali Zapp, an 18-year-old girl from Chelsea was attacked, bludgeoned, and immolated. Just hours after this, a real estate agent was attacked in the home of a would-be cellar.

It was also found that of the 18,000 convicted sex offenders in the States, that only 1,000 of them had ever actually been registered as they were supposed to. In court, Leahy's officer was arguing that it was not his client's intent to murder Allie. He was just deciding whether he was going to rob her or not, and his actions were all in a reaction to the situation that had spiraled out of control. Now, please, indulge me for a moment here, as I try to make a little sense of this myself. It sounds like the essence of the argument is that Leahy wanted to rob Ali,

and because she fought back in self-defense, that would be why he stabbed her more than six times. Anyway, you slice it, this is a pretty foul argument for anyone to ever try to make. However, I can actually leave this particular case on a bit of a high note. For all the tragedy that comes out of this story, the shattered lives, the traumatized victims of Lee's past, and the terrible loss of young Ali Zapp's life, there are also some good things that have come of it. Changes that have been made. Oh, and Lehi, yeah, despite his lawyer's scumbag argument,

Lehi is finally off the streets for good. He was found guilty of first-degree murder and is still rotting in prison with no possibility of parole. Beyond this, I don't really have any afterthoughts to add, other than stay vigilant, stay safe, and keep fighting. This all happened when I was probably about 20 years old. and everything in this story is 100% true. My boyfriend at the time, now husband, Tyler, and I were home alone at my mom's house.

I do want to mention at this time that we had been regularly trying to astral project with no luck, which may have made me more vulnerable. We were hanging out outside and upon coming back into the house, I told him that I was going to go upstairs to shower and he went down to the basement to play. play video games. I headed to the stairs. I took one step and instantly this wave of heaviness and almost lightheadedness came over me.

I have no health or mental health conditions, don't do drugs and had not been drinking. As I slowly made my way up the stairs, the air felt heavy and dark. I had to practically drag myself up the stairs while holding on to the railing, feeling heavy and just very weird and not myself. self. After what felt like forever, I made it to the bathroom to shower. I went to brush my teeth,

and I couldn't even manage to grab my toothbrush before I looked at myself in the mirror. The person that I saw in the mirror was not me, but I could not take my eyes off of her, or it. It looked almost just like me, but I knew that it wasn't me. I felt that I could see something else peering out from behind where my eyes should have been, like my soul. soul was not the only thing in my body. It's hard to explain the sheer dread and simultaneously the compulsion to stare and not look away. I forgot all about showering or using the bathroom for any other purpose. I was utterly sucked into the mirror in what I was seeing.

The creature that was not me began to talk to me, using my voice box, but not at all my voice. It said all sorts of vile, disturbance. and perverted things to me. It touched me against my will, and it didn't feel like my own touch. All of this was happening, and I could still not break away from my mirror trance. And time seemed to have no meaning, as later I realized this went on for hours, most likely. Luckily, eventually, I was able to yank myself away from the bathroom counter and move my gaze away from this terrifying staring contest.

I dragged my body with so much effort, I felt that I only had partial control over it, over to my bed, which was only about 20 steps from the bathroom. I laid in bed flat on my back and heard a loud, terrifying voice localized right above my face. Needing to get away from this voice and this unseen entity, I turned on my side with effort only to realize the voice did not move. It was still right above me now. It was directly talking into my left ear only. This made it feel that much more real.

I started to feel the sensation of hands on my body. When it crawled up me and straddled my body wrapping its arms and legs around me, tight, cloying even, all while the loud whispers continued. The new distressing assault in my own bed continued for quite a while. All while I was screaming for help internally. If you've ever seen the movie Get Out, it felt like that deep, dark place he goes in his own mind.

I decided to attempt to telepathically contact my boyfriend for help. I just began thinking, Tyler, come now, come, please, I beg you, I need help, please, Tyler. Please, Tyler, come now, help me, help me, Tyler, please, help me. Two minutes later, Tyler came into my room almost breathless like he'd run up the stairs. He said, are you okay? I felt like you were calling me for help. I wanted so badly to turn to him and say, please help me. Something weird is happening.

I think I'm possessed, but instead against my own will, I sat up straight and said in a creepy, monotone voice that was still not my own. Hi, everything's okay. Go and just leave me alone. Now I'm fine. I said this unwillingly, but the real me deep was screaming for how. help, crying and pleading for his help, for him to just stay with me. Then he said, okay, well, you're creeping me out, so I'm going to go.

No, please don't go. Now I was all alone again, crying internally for help and for it to go away. I'm agnostic, but still I prayed silently for any higher power to please help me, to save me. The whispers were insistent, but somehow I ended up fond. falling asleep. The next morning I was surprised to have woken up okay and back to being myself again, despite having a fear of mirrors and feeling pretty cool about this telepathic ability. Nothing like this ever happened again, and I still, to this day, have no idea what this

was. If any listeners have any idea about what this may be, please let me know on the subreddit. Two years later, in our new apartment, my boyfriend was going to the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth and doing my hair, and I looked at the back of my head. It turned around with a small handheld mirror. While looking in the reflection of the other mirror's reflection, I caught Tyler's reflection. He turned to look at me in the mirror. His head seemingly turned at an unnatural angle, and he smiled, the creepiest most demonic smile ever.

I screamed and yelled at him asking why he was freaking me out like that. He persisted and even insisted that to this day, he did not look at me in the mirror like that. I wonder if that was the thing of the past showing itself again. Thank you, Raven, for reading. I'm obsessed with your podcast, and your voice is so cozy. You make me feel like a kid again at a bonfire telling scary stories. Thank you very much for that. Hey, I just wanted to tell you about a few times that I encouraged some weird things. They aren't as unusual as your other stuff, but a teen can get her away sometimes.

Anyway, the first time is from a few months ago. Me and my older sister, let's call her Macy, were in my room at my dad's house after school. We were just talking about something and she suddenly asked, Do you want to try to talk to the ghosts here? I nodded, not knowing exactly how it would work. Macy sat beside me and kind of like, summoned the ghost. I knew because it took over my voice and body. It was like it possessed me without doing anything.

She asked a few questions. The answers were vague, mostly. We asked if there was anything to look out for, and the answer creeped us out. Afterwards, I could still feel the ghost inside of my body. It shook me so much. I don't know if I should be careful or not, but I now always feel like something is watching me ever since we did it. Hey there, friends. I hope that you enjoyed this 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 support like that is greatly appreciated. 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 astherravendreams.com, where 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.