As The Raven Dreams Podcast - ATRD Ep. 230 - 19 True Scary Paranormal & Past Life Stories

Episode Date: June 20, 2026

Today, on the 230th episode of the As The Raven Dreams podcast, we have 19 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 paranormal encounters and Past life memories. Would you like to participate in the postcard exchange? It comes with a free ATRD Sticker! Just Send a post card to the following... Lucas PO BOX 8198 Rochester, MN 55903 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 on 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... Kisu, Faith, A .C. Smart, Mandy, Jessica, Orange Sherbet , Roads, Jim K, Liz and Pat, willow water, Kia G, Amon A, MyDogCooper, Loranda, ebony, The Lunch Lady, Mika, Sebastian, Rodd in Los Angeles As Well As Any Author That Has Requested Anonymity. TimeStamps… Ad breaks after Story 1 & Story 8 1 ➤ 1:11 2 ➤ 13:01 3 ➤ 21:51 4 ➤ 26:56 5 ➤ 33:25 6 ➤ 39:11 7 ➤ 43:45 8 ➤ 46:42 9 ➤ 48:32 10 ➤ 50:59 11 ➤ 59:59 12 ➤ 1:04:35 13 ➤ 1:14:08 14 ➤ 1:26:40 15 ➤ 1:28:11 16 ➤ 1:39:12 17 ➤ 1:42:05 18 ➤ 1:51:32 19 ➤ 1:53:20 ----- 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. Note: The podcast nor the host endorses any advertisements played during the podcast, ads are not chosen by ATRD or Raven Adams, they are chosen automatically by the advertisement systems by the platforms that host the podcast. I do not endorse, support, or promote any opinions or statements made in any adverts played during the show. #ScaryStories #UnexplainedMysteries #ParanormalStories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hey there, friends. Hope you're having a lovely Saturday so far. Today, we have a significant collection of paranormal and strange stories, although there will also be some past life stories sprinkled in there. I've decided that past life stories are probably appropriate to put with paranormal stories. Hopefully, you enjoy this collection. It's a pretty good one. I know I enjoyed it. Paranormal stories are always intense and intriguing. definitely send the old chills down your spine, which we need as we're quickly approaching the hottest parts of the year here. If you're not in the part of the world that has summer right now, I kind of envy you.

I don't like the heat, so. If you have a story you want to share with the podcast, of course, go to ashtherravendreams.com and click the button to send it my way, or email it over to as the raven dreams at gmail.com. Both will get directly to me. All that said, friends, sit back, relax. and enjoy the scary stories. I've had this lingering feeling in me for as long as I could remember. I had a pretty average childhood.

I was a middle child, both of my parents were together throughout it, and we all had our share of disagreements and arguments. No one was violent or aggressive beyond the normal sibling throwing something at you when you wouldn't get out of their room. We were all loved and cared for, and they encouraged us to pursue what we wanted. But that was my problem. I didn't really know what I wanted to do after high school.

I had a really hard time figuring it out because honestly nothing appealed to me. I always had this feeling of incompleteness. You know, when you leave for a trip and you just have that feeling like you know you forgot something, or maybe left something at home and you can't figure out what it is, It's kind of like that. Really simplified.

The feeling was constant and never went away. I went to therapy for it in my mid-20s thinking maybe there was something wrong with me. My therapist was good and suggested that I was mildly depressed and possibly just searching for a deeper meaning in my life. She recommended mindfulness, journaling, and reading it back or even sharing it with her to see if there were patterns or things that might help me. She even suggested community involvement that maybe helping others might show me what I'm missing or yearning for. I didn't have any reason to disagree with her or even think her ideas were silly. I hadn't chosen a major or even went to college. I was working full-time at a job that was mediocre at best just to get me by.

So maybe I was needing a deeper meaning to my life. I started volunteering in different areas. I helped at animal shelters, charity runs, food drives, children volunteer events, anything I could find. I had a lady that ran a lot of the events in the county, emailing me personally, because I volunteered so much. And most of it felt good. I felt like I was starting to make a difference, whatever it was, but it still wasn't filling that void. And then I had a conversation with a friend who had begun working in hospice care. She was telling me about how so many of the patients had no one there visiting them.

She explained how it seemed like many were dropped off into these homes and forgotten about. And how much fun she had on the good days. And she suggested that I try looking into volunteering at nursing homes. She had good points. If I felt the way I did, what if someone there felt the same? I dreaded feeling like this on my last days. And if I could give someone a little bit of peace and solitude on their last days, that felt impactful to me.

I couldn't volunteer at my friends because they were full, but she did recommend a few in the area, so I just picked one up and called. They did have volunteer time and were more than thrilled to have the help. I started going on Saturday mornings. I helped pass out breakfast, and then we had time for activities. Puzzles, card games, or for some, just conversation. Most residents welcomed the visitors.

They loved talking and having new checkers, challengers. I remember one woman who thanked me for playing with her because she thought her friend there had been cheating and was happy to play. They were welcoming, and I really enjoyed it. But there was one woman there who kept to herself. She always sat near the green room, but when I was there, I would constantly catch her staring at me. It happened quite often in the nursing homes. It could be someone with a disability or Alzheimer's.

I've had one mistaken me for a grand kid and they wouldn't let me go. It wasn't alarming or weird to me. In fact, I just remember this feeling of loneliness as I watched her. when our eyes met she would just look away back into the green room but after weeks of this same behavior i finally told myself that i needed to get her involved i needed to hear her story and show her that i saw her when the activities started i grabbed a deck of playing cards and walked over to her and asked if she would like to join me for a game. I barely had enough time to sit down when she looked up at me and said very calmly, are you related to a girl named Patrice? I told her no. I didn't know anyone by that name.

She was quiet for a moment, and I stayed silent myself. I thought maybe she was having memory issues in mistaking me for someone else, and sometimes they can work through it on their own. Sometimes nurses have to intervene, but that rarely happened. After a few seconds, she softly said, Gosh, you look just like her, just like the way she looked when we were kids. She was certainly there with me. She knew I wasn't Patrice, but she clearly meant a lot to her, and I felt something digging at me to find out.

out more. So, I asked her about Patrice. The woman I was speaking to was Eleanor and Patrice was her best friend from childhood. They had met in grade school, and from then on, they were inseparable. She seemed to stop a few times, waving her hand like she was rambling, but I encouraged her to go on. She smiled as she talked about Patrice. She joked how Patrice couldn't sit still. She constantly had to be doing something, always wanting to be useful.

She held a tutoring club after school. She helped with their church, delivering meals to those in need, organizing clothing drives at their school. And then she looked sad. She had tears in her eyes. I asked her if she was okay, and she explained that Patrice had died when she was 22. Eleanor, Patrice, and two of their friends were driving to Patrice's boyfriend's house, as a surprise, when they were struck by another vehicle. Eleanor was the only survivor.

Not only did Eleanor live with the survivor's guilt, but a huge amount of grief for losing her three friends. Patrice had so many plans for life. She told me about how she was going to go to this big college to become a doctor. She wanted to help children and foster them. She cared for everyone more than herself, and she talked about how the world was a little emptier and colder without her, and she said that she's felt that since she learned she was gone. My heart felt so heavy as she told me this,

like I personally knew her and was also grieving her. It's hard to explain, but in that moment I had this overwhelming feeling. It was like that feeling. of emptiness I'd had was growing and that I just wanted to cry, right there, in front of Eleanor. She asked if she could show me some pictures, and I agreed. I pushed her to her room, and she directed me to an album in a cabinet. I handed it to her, and she flipped through all these photos from another time. She pointed out some as she glossed over them and then stopped on a page with Patrice.

and not ever knowing this person, I knew immediately it was her, mostly because she really did look just like me. The picture was of her at a party of some sort. She had one of those pointy party hats on. Her hair was short, curly, and a dark color just like mine. She had a dimple in her left cheek, just like I do. Her facial structure as a whole was just like mine. She could have been a sister or a distant relative.

As Eleanor and I talked more, I really had no one in our family by the name of Patrice. We sat in her room as she told me about her. She told me more about what she liked to do and what she wanted to do and as she talked. All I could think was how much she sounded like me. her yearning for more, wanting to do more for others. I'll never forget how she put it.

She had more to do than time to do it. And I felt that. I told Eleanor how I knew how Patrice felt, and that was why I was there in that home. I was trying to find myself. Eleanor smiled at me and she said that maybe I was one with Patrice. Maybe together we were trying to live again, and live life fully.

And that stuck with me. After I finished my shift there, I went home and really thought about what Eleanor had told me over my leftover dinner. I didn't really believe in anything in particular. I do believe in ghosts and spirits, but was never really religious. But I took her words to be more or less. like a possible past life. Maybe I look so much like Patrice because I used to be her.

Maybe my yearning for a more fulfilled and purposeful life is because of her. She wanted to do so much, but her life was taken so early. I did a lot of thinking that night, and I told my mom and a friend about what I experienced a few days later. My mom didn't think much deeper about it past it being a sign to figure out what I wanted to do with my career. My friend, on the other hand, jumped fully on board with the idea that I clearly had a vast life. Either way, I did take it seriously. I went back to school and became a social worker and a paralegal, and I found myself helping the elderly everywhere I could.

I'm now the POA for several people who have no one left, and I can't imagine doing anything else. I certainly don't have that feeling of emptiness anymore. I continued volunteering at that nursing home and even had some time with Eleanor. She seemed to believe the same, that I was giving Patrice a second chance at life, and it's like after acknowledging that, a burden was lifted from my shoulders.

I think I found my purpose, for both of us, and I just hope that I'm making Patrice proud. I used to live with a friend of mine for six months in a house that was over a hundred years old. Without going into too much detail, my friend needed a flatmate suddenly, and since I had nothing keeping me in the city where I was living back then, I decided to help her out, and I moved to this countryside farmhouse. There was my friend, my friend's three cats, and a horse, and her brother-in-law's dog, which his family was unable to keep in their city home. Since the house was old without electric heating, most of our days went by getting firewood ready for the winter, as well as watching movies and playing games. These were some of the best months in my life.

The house was really big with ten different rooms, as it had been serving in her family for generations. Actually, my friend's family had lived on that spot since the 1720s. I love to live in a historical place like that. Albeit, it was not always easy as it lacked some modern luxuries, like heating from a shower and bathroom, which had to be warmed up with wood in the winter, before showering because otherwise the water froze on the tile floor and made it slippery. Also, some of the rooms were so cold that in the winter,

winter mornings, wallpapers would be covered with ice. But still, I liked it there. Since there were so many rooms, I could choose where I wanted to stay. I chose a bedroom near the kitchen and living room, not far from my friend's bedroom. I stayed there for the summer until fall came and it was too cold to sleep in without heating. For the fall and winter, I moved into a room with a fireplace. after I had lived in the house for a few months, something weird started to happen. I started to hear banging from within the walls. I thought it was the house settling and I didn't pay it any attention, or that it was the residential ghost who lived in the attic and used to walk around there

in a room which was covered with stuff and in which no one had used for decades. Yet we kept hearing footsteps from there regularly, typically always around 11 p.m. Anyway, I brushed this wall banging off as something natural or doings of the harmless attic ghost and continued with my life. Maybe a week after the banging had started, it began to increase. The first, I heard it a few times a day and then five, ten times. Fifteen times, until it was so constant that I couldn't sleep. It took a month to escalate to a point where the banging was heard from inside the walls when I was trying to. to sleep in every minute, sometimes multiple times each minute.

If it was quiet, it was quiet for a few minutes and then started banging again when I was about to fall asleep. It was not a person, because this was a remote farm away from any civilization, and it wasn't mice or rats because I've grown up with mice and rats and cold weather cracking woods and old houses settling, and I know what all this sounds like. This was much more forceful and intentional. My friend noticed this phenomena too. I told whoever or whatever was banging to go away and leave us alone. I blessed my bedroom.

I used incense. I prayed. I told higher spirits like archangels to kick the disturbing entity away, but nothing helped. I didn't know why because I had successfully managed to kick out unwanted spirits in the past. But this rascal was not leaving. I started to worry that what if it's a poltergeist or some other entity? Far beyond anything I can deal with. Devastated, I decided to leave my childhood home for a weekend.

I left on Thursday happy that I could sleep properly, because my sleeping was suffering from all the noise. I did indeed sleep properly. The banging had stayed behind in the old house where I lived, or so I thought. It was Saturday and I was upstairs by myself. in my childhood home. The upstairs of the childhood home is one singular room from the end of the house to the other end.

No walls, no doors, nothing in the way. As I was standing there, I couldn't remember what I was doing. A loud banging came from within the wall to my left-hand side. It ran on the same level through the whole building from one end of the room to the other end. It was the loudest, strongest banging I had heard so far. In that instant, a horrifying realist, hit me. The banging was following me. My friend confirmed this theory when I returned back

home after the weekend. She said that the house had been completely quiet without any banging or cracking while I was gone. Sure enough, as soon as I returned, the cracking and banging sounds from inside the wall started again, just a few hours after I had gotten back home. My friend was there to hear that, too. So it was somehow a linked to me, or worse, attached to me. In my desperation, I wrote to a psychic that I knew from an online spiritual forum I was a member of. She was also a member of this forum, and while I had never spoken to her before, I thought that maybe she could help me. I explained my situation to her, and pleaded with her to help me out because I was slowly going crazy,

because of this invisible stalker that didn't let me sleep. I was ready for any information, any rituals, anything. I just wanted to sleep. The psychic sent me a private message the very same day. She said that she got a feeling that the invisible stalker was a spirit of my dead relative from my father's side. This person was a man and his name started with the letter P. She said that Mr. P is trying to get my attention but couldn't say why. What the psychic said made sense.

I had an uncle, my aunt's husband, who had died long ago when I was still a child. My aunt, who was married to him, was my father's oldest sister. My uncle's name was Penty, starting with the letter P. But what made no sense was my uncle trying to reach out to me. We weren't close with him. He was more of a stranger. I even knew my neighbors better than my own relatives. I had zero idea what my uncle wanted for me, and why me?

And why was he so desperate to get my attention? The banging within the wall sounded like someone was desperately banging on the door as, Open up, open up, please. The only thing when I thought about my uncle's intense desire to get my attention that came to mind was that my aunt needed help and somehow I could help her, and that the help had to be spiritual, energy. based. After all, I was the only one in my family line believing in these kinds of things and understanding them. Perhaps the help uncle was seeking for his ex-wife was something health-related.

That night, when I went to bed, I sat at the bed's edge and spoke to my uncle. Listen, Penty, I know it's you. I don't know what you want from me, but I'm going to send some long-distance healing energy to my aunt. To my knowledge, my aunt had no health issues, but I thought that healing energy works for any purpose needed, so I gave it a try. I meditated and I sent her energy for 30 minutes before going to bed, imagining how it reached her and wrapped her in a safe bubble which protected and healed her from any harm. And I then went to sleep. That was the first night in a month that I was able to sleep without any disturbance.

The banging stopped. I never heard banging again, so I concluded that the psychic had been right, and that the healing energy session was indeed needed. I never contacted my aunt or told her about this. I don't have any connection to my relatives. They're like strangers to me. And I didn't hear any news from my mother either regarding my aunt. It's been 20 years soon, and I still don't know why exactly uncle needed my help.

and how I was able to help. One thing I do know is that this dead uncle has not been seen or heard ever since. Hello again. I just submitted a story, but this one's different. In my last story, I talked about my experience in a theater. This one is about the haunted house that I worked in. I can't go into much detail about the maze or where it was, but all you need to know is that I believe that we've been.

brought whatever we were experiencing on ourselves with some of the things that were in the maze. It was something new that we were doing. I had been asked to be a part of it by the manager. I said yes and began rehearsals. I wasn't in the maze, but I was working behind the scenes. We went through rehearsal and opened the first weekend, and it went rough, people quitting and fighting and rude guests. It was a lot, but we eventually found our rhythm. Now, the second weekend and the start of the shift in the atmosphere, I knew all of the secret doors and hiding spots, like the back of my hand at this point. There was a specific part on the outskirts of the maze that held garment bags and costume pieces.

There was a platform above that, with old decor and an old coffin strapped to a gurney, that weren't used at the time. I passed by that area probably hundreds of times a night. But that first night of the second weekend, something felt off. It felt heavy. You know when you walk into your house on a really hot day and the wall of cold air just hits you? That's what it felt like. But instead of relaxing cold air, it was like dense brick wall of energy.

I was walking past the platform, and it was like something made me turn my head. I looked up and just behind the coffin, I saw a man with the broken. brown flannel shirt on and brown pants and boots standing there. He was smiling at me. I remember every little detail about him that I could see. It wasn't pitch black, but there wasn't a lot of light. His hair was shaggy but short. He was pale and looked dirty.

His smile was so wide, almost like that movie's smile. His smile was as creepy as that. I think all of this was made, worse by the fact that his eyes were just black holes. I was able to pull my gaze away, and I sped away. I told my best friend who worked in the maze and had also seen the theater figure what happened, and I kept on about my night. I would see him at least once a night for the next weekend in the same spot,

always just behind the coffin, until weekend four, when we had gotten another person to be on my team. It was a kid who I had known for a few years now, and we were so excited to have him. I remember telling him about what I had been seeing and my theories on why I'm seeing him. Oh, that's funny, he said. Bruce, another friend working in the maze, just told me that someone kept pulling on his jacket, but when he turns around, no one's there. The scenes that Bruce was a part of were right around the corner from where I had been seeing the smiling man.

Other than the kid and my best friend, no one else knew what I was experiencing. I ran to Bruce and I asked him. He also told me about some of the other actors seeing someone run through the curtains in the breaks between groups. As I went to go back, I passed the platform. I turned to look as it was just habit now, and I screamed. The man was under the coffin and against the railing. His fingers wrapped around the railing and his face was pressed to it. it. The smile was still as wide as before.

My brother, who was also in the maze as an actor, came running. He'd been on break and heard me yell. It was also fast. When he shined his light, there wasn't anything there. That same night, we were getting ready to be finished. I made deals with my team that I would handle everything in the maze except for things that were back by the platform. My best friend later told me that she hadn't seen the smiling man, but she was seeing faces by the platform.

Distorted ones. She saw them on the second weekend. There were a bunch of them, all by the platform, all with black holes for eyes. For extra information, I had been in this building numerous times before my experience. I had never had a weird feeling, even with the haunted house decor that was there. This new one had some stuff that I think brought whatever it was there. Even after the haunted house closed, it was still heavy and scary. Hey, Raven, hope you've been well and happy New Year.

I've been all right and happy New Year to you as well, although it's April, so I'm sorry you sent this in a long time ago. I feel bad now. Anyways, this happened to me about 13 years ago and is still the most unsettling thing that has ever happened. happened to me. For context, I was born, well, unalive, as the kids say. And since birth, I've always been able to see and sense spirits. So seeing a dark shadow peeking around a corner or hearing a disembodied voice is nothing new to me. This, however, was different and I get chills to this day thinking about it. I was 23 and newly married. My husband and I had bought a house and moved to a new town.

I started looking for work after settling in and managed to get two part-time jobs. One is a home health aide and a weekend job working at a local winery. Weekends were especially busy at the winery between birthday parties and wedding receptions. There was always something going on and it seemed like we could never hire enough employees to keep up. I mostly worked in the gift shop, stocking bottles and various wine-themed merchandise. as well as greeting customers and keeping an eye on the parking lot for various drunken shenanigans. One of my co-workers, I'll call him Duncan, was a young man barely 21 who was tasked with various errands, such as taking out the trash, cleaning, and generally helping anyone who needed extra help.

One balmy Saturday, we were all scrambling before opening knowing that we had a wedding reception that evening, and the place would be packed. I utilized Duncan's help a lot, helping me stock the wine racks and prepare the reception hall for the event. He told me that he was working late to help clean up after everything was over, because he could use the extra money. I remember wishing him the best of luck and told him that I would see him tomorrow. I clocked out at my usual time and left. The next day I arrived at work fairly early anticipating a mess from last night's festivities. I sat in my car for a moment, dreading what awaited me behind those doors, when I heard a rattling noise.

I glanced over to see Duncan pushing a cart filled with bags of trash towards the dumpster. He waved, and I returned the gesture, thinking to myself that he was crazy for working late, and then arriving to work well before I did. I shrugged it off and went inside. I had barely clocked in and started opening my register, when the manager called us together for a meeting, which wasn't out of the ordinary. I made my way back to the bar area,

where we all gathered to get our stuff ordered and see what fresh hell awaited us for the day. I noticed immediately that Duncan was not among the cluster of employees, but then remembered that he was taking out trash and assumed that he would join us shortly. Once we had all gathered, minus Duncan, our manager said flatly, I'm sorry to tell you all this, but Duncan is no longer with us.

He passed away last night in a fatal car accident. I remember feeling cold and my stomach dropping out. I was confused at first. I had just seen him taking out the trash. He even waved at me so this couldn't be true. I didn't say anything in the moment, afraid of sounding crazy. We all shed a few tears before, imposing ourselves, and then returning to our posts.

I didn't feel right for the rest of the day. I knew what I had seen, but I could not wrap my head around it. At lunch, I returned to my car and called my husband and told him what had happened and what I had seen. He reassured me that everything would be okay, but what else could he say? He knew I could see spirits. Although it wasn't his gift, he accepted me the way that I am and tried to comfort me the best he could. put over the phone. The following weekend, we were closing up for the night.

I was counting my drawer when another co-worker, we will call her Jesse, came over to me and asked if I could go with her to the cellar to turn off the lights. This struck me as odd, as she had worked there longer than most of us, and had never once requested help turning off the cellar lights. I told her I would go with her as soon as I finished counting up my drawer. She seemed relieved and waited for me near the elevator. We rode the elevator to the lowest level of the winery, the cellar, if you will, a basement-like space filled with casks and barrels where the wine was aged. I helped to turn off the lights and ensure that everything was locked up properly.

We returned to the elevator and she blurted out, Can I tell you something without you thinking I've lost my mind? And I said, of course. She told me a few nights prior She had gone to close the lower level And she swore she heard Duncan's voice next to her ear Whispering, hey Jesse Jesse's face was pale as she told me this

I recounted what I had seen the day after Duncan's passing Before I even knew he was no longer with us He was still there working as always Jesse and I agreed to tell no one of what we experienced as it was hard enough keeping employees as it is. The following year, I got a better job offer and was able to quit my two part-time jobs. I have gone back to the winery a few times just for a drink and to catch up, but Jesse was gone. She quit shortly after I did.

About a year ago, the owner of the winery passed, and then the entire business shut down. I drive past it occasionally, and I'm always. haunted by what I saw that day, and I can't help but wonder if Duncan is still there. I'm still working, still haunting. Hello Raven. I love how you always make little comments to things people say when they ride in. Well, then I'll make this comment to you. Hello. My name is Ebony. I'm from a place called Leeds in England,

and I've always had a spidey sense for the spookier things in life. in life. It would be great if you could do an episode on the Thackeray Medical Museum in Leeds as it was a formed hospital and supposedly haunted A.F. I would love if you had the time to read all my stories in the podcast. I would... I don't know what you mean by that sentence. I'm going to leave it out. Anyway. If not, I understand. Here we are. I've been meaning to send these stories in for a long time, so finally, here they are. Story one. I'll tell my stories in order from when they happened.

So, this first one happened when I was only a few years old. I don't know when exactly, as it was only told to me years later. I was in a pram or buggy for you Americans, and my mom was taking me with her to lay some flowers at the cemetery. All of a sudden, I got really upset, and when my mom asked me what was wrong, apparently I said, Mom, I don't want to go down there, down there being buried underground, like the people who were put to rest there. I was way too young to know about death and hadn't been exposed to anything like that at that age.

My mom, a lover of all things spooky, got out of there right away because it even scared her. Story two, I was about 14 or 15 here, and I was at a friend's house having a friend's house having a, a sleepover with another friend. We were in their kitchen, which looks into the living room. We were just talking and looking for snacks. When I looked into the living room and saw an old man walking across the room with a walker. There were no old men living in that house at that time, so I was freaked out. I knew it wasn't a living person because they faded into nothing.

I don't know how to describe how he moved other than he slowly moved. moved with his walker, but his whole apparition moved slightly faster. I will say, it was not out of the corner of my eye, and it was not a glance for a split second. It was maybe only 20 seconds, but enough time for me to know what I saw. I should mention that we did not do any substances, so we were sober. My friend then looked at me and said, You look like you've just seen a ghost. Are you okay?

Huh, funny you should say that, I thought, and just said, I think I did. I then described what I saw, and my friend who lived there said that an old man used to live there, and that he had passed away. Story three, I was around 16 in this story, and my boyfriend, we'll call him Dave at the Times family, had gone on holiday. So, naturally we blew up the air mattress in the living room, so we could watch movies on the big TV, and it was like a fun sleepover. That night, when we were laying down, ready to go to sleep, I suddenly had this feeling that we were being watched.

I told him this, and he told me that it was probably nothing and to try to sleep. I said, I can't. It feels like someone is sitting in that chair behind us. He looked at me weird. He was probably thinking I was being dramatic. I kind of am for the humor of it, but I was serious. I then had this image in my head of a man,

the man that was sitting behind us in that chair. I don't know how I knew this, but I just did. I couldn't see him in real life, only in my mind. I began to describe this man from his appearance, how he acted, even that he used a walking cane, but that he still liked to act silly and do little dances with the family children. I also said that the chair behind us was the chair he always sat on when he visited in life. My boyfriend went pale and silent.

He even started crying a little bit. I asked if he was okay and sorry for spooking him, but he just said, No, I'm not scared, but you described my granddad exactly right. He did always sit in that chair and he did use a cane to walk with, but he was always being silly and dancing around. I've never talked about him before, and he died long before we met. How did you know?

I just explained to him what I felt and saw. After that, I didn't feel uneasy anymore. I felt warm and loved and welcomed, as if his granddad was saying, Oh, hey, you noticed me. It's nice to meet you. I do have a few other experiences, but I'll leave it there as these stories ended up being longer than I expected.

Again, I would love if you were able to read them all on this channel as it would be unreal to hear my stories read by you. Well, Ebony, there you go. And also send in your other stories, please. Thank you again, Raven. And remember that you are a vessel controlled by your brain. Oh, and you are loved. That's a fun way to put that.

Hi, Raven. I've been listening to your podcast for some months now, I really enjoy listening to it while cleaning and or doing yard work. It's not a glamorous job, but I work in an elementary school cafeteria, a.k.a. a lunch lady. I love working with my crew and seeing the kids brings me a special kind of joy. I like the idea that I'm helping them grow and study by feeding their bodies. In a way, I feel like an auntie taking care of a brood of kids.

in my crew there's an assistant manager who swears that there is a ghost in the kitchen. She says that she senses it and sometimes sees it moving out of the corner of her eye. Another member of the crew who worked at the after-school program said that one time she forgot her cell phone in her locker and the bathroom at the kitchen. By that time of day, everyone who works there in the kitchen had gone for the day. The lights are motion censored and will come on if motion is detected. The lights only came on in the areas in which she walked. In other areas of the kitchen, such as the dishroom and pantry, it was still dark.

Once she retrieved her phone from the bathroom locker and proceeded to leave for the day, she noticed that the lights in the dishroom and pantry were on. It weirded her out, and she told us about it later. I had yet to see or experience anything like that in the kitchen myself until today. This morning I arrived at work extra early to make up for some lost time. The only people who were there were the manager, who was in the office doing paperwork, and the assistant manager who was preparing breakfast. I greeted them, and I bade them a good morning and went into the bathroom to put my things away in the locker.

I came out, and I asked the manager as to where she would like me to help out, and said that I could help with breakfast. At that time, the assistant manager, manager who was at the prep table was consolidating trays of fruit from the cooler, leaving empty black trays on the table. I told her I was going to help, but then I needed to wash my hands and then I would jump right in. While I was at the hand sink, the assistant manager came up to me holding one of the black trays. At first glance, I saw a large handprint on the tray.

It looked like about the size of a man's hand, but as if it were wearing a glove. I immediately was thinking that it was a greasy handprint and that someone had forgotten to wash a tray. Then she asked me, Did you touch this? I said no. In the next few seconds while we were talking about the handprint on the tray, it had disappeared.

I was surprised and realized that it was not at all a greasy handprint, but it had been a thermal transfer of a handprint on one of the cold trays that was removed from the cooler, just moments earlier. We were both taken aback and did our own experiment by placing our hand on the cold tray. Both of our hands were smaller, and as the thermal transfer happened, you could see the details of where the pads of my finger and palm were

before they disappeared. Not at all, like the large distorted handprint we had just seen a couple of minutes before. There were no details of a palm or finger pads like ours. We were very surprised. As soon as the rest of the crew came in, we recanted our story to them. It was exciting to tell my story to them and be validated by another person.

I never felt scared or creeped out. It was just something strange that happened. In past conversations, we had determined that it was likely a residual haunt of someone who was still working in the kitchen at our school. I did look up when the school was built, and surprisingly it wasn't that old, as it was built in the year 2000. Well, thank you for listening to my story. I know it's not a super creepy tale, but I felt compelled to share it. I appreciate you doing so, thank you.

And thank you, Raven, for sharing your passion for storytelling with us. Hi, Raven. Before I begin with my story, I want to thank you for giving people a special. space to share our stories. I've been a long-time listener, and I have always loved the paranormal stories so much. One day I heard one about a shadow figure, and it reminded me of an experience I had back in 2023. I live in a very big forest where there was a lot of wildlife, and trails that you could walk on. I've always been scared of the dark and being alone for long periods of time, which is why I will always have my dog Bella go with me to places.

Now on this evening, me and my mom got into a big fight and both really needed space from each other, so I decided to go take Bella for a walk. Also, side note, Bella is very silent and rarely ever barks. So, me and Bella were just on our normal route, which included going across a decent-sized river. We were about 15 minutes into our rock when I had the weirdest feeling of being watched. I could tell that Bella was sensing something because she was making whimpering noises as we continued walking. At this point, we were at the crossing for the river, and that was when I saw it. The only way I can describe what I saw was a tall, dark figure with red eyes and a hat. Bella started barking in a way I have never heard before.

I was so frozen in fear and had no idea what to do. This entity was just staring at it. us, until I noticed it slowly moving towards us. Luckily, my fight or flight response triggered, and I started bolting all the way back to my house, slammed the door behind me and mustered up the courage to look out my window. And it wasn't there. After what I had just seen, I was too tired to do anything and decided to just go to bed. But sure enough, as soon as I got settled into bed and turned off my lights,

the dark figure appeared right at the end of my bed. It just stared at me, who at this point, was on the verge of tears. What happened next still surprises me. The figure goes up to my blinds, opens them, and points outside. I stood up and looked where it was pointing, and I saw this guy in my driveway crawling toward my house. I got so scared and ran to wake up my parents to call the cops. Luckily, the police in my area were very quick. and they were able to arrest the guy.

I'm just grateful to the entity that I encountered that night, because if it had not shown up, things would have most likely been very bad that night. So last night, my dad and I were talking about a dream that he had when he was four. He said that he was in an indie car going really fast around a track. He remembers the butterfly steering wheel and all of the controls. and he remembers a fiery crash in which he remembers dying instantly. I don't know why, but I suddenly felt the need to look up the car that he saw in his dream.

The first picture that popped up made my dad's anxiety ramp up to a hundred. It was the steering wheel in his dream. Then I decided to look up indie car crash in the 1960s. I found a video about Eddie Sacks crashing into a man named, named Dave MacDonald. He died instantly while McDonald was rushed to the hospital where he passed from his injuries. I asked my dad if the name Eddie Sacks meant anything to him. Again, he started hyperventilating in said 1964, which I hadn't mentioned yet.

There was a video on the incident that showed a picture of the man in his car before the race started. My dad started freaking out so badly that he left the house. I've never seen my dad cry like he did last night. He just kept going on and on saying that was him, and he remembers his death on May 30th, 1964. We're both pretty freaked out by this. To the point that my dad refuses to speak about it again. So please, any insight from anyone would be helpful.

Spotify, it's Jay Shetty. Are you one of those memes? strategy people, scrolling through spreadsheets, searching for an audience that pays twice as much attention to your ads than they do on social? Let me introduce you to fans. And they're here with me on Spotify. Trust me, I know fans. They don't skip. They stay for hours. They don't move on, they manifest. They're not a demographic group. They're fans. Spotify advertising. You're among fans. For a time, there was only one New Age shop in town. Now, I like New Age shops. They have rocks, lots of rocks, interesting varieties and cool shapes. Unfortunately, every pagan or he

that I met expressly warned me against the place so I didn't go. Then another one opened up, one they approved of. I became a regular visitor, getting my rock fix. I was happy. So when a friend told me about another new-age shop opening and suggested we go, I looked forward to it. I walked through the front door, noticed the books to the left. Ooh, books. So naturally I turned left, and it was like I hadn't seen a step and landed badly after a moment of freefall. Shaken, I did a 180 and went to look at the shelves to the right of the front door instead, working my way around the shop counterclockwise.

They had lots of cool stuff, but as I approached the book corner again, this time from the back of the store, that falling sensation happened again. I turned around and browsed areas that I'd already perused until my friend was ready to go. In the end, neither of us purchased anything. Once we were in the car, she asked me what I thought of the shop. What do you say in a situation like this? She'd been there before and apparently liked it well enough that she invited me to check it out with her. But I took too long, scrambling for something diplomatic to say and she blurted,

There's something among those books. Yes, I couldn't help blurting in astonishment. I have no idea what it was, but it had an aura nasty enough to keep me away from the books. books. I mean, I would walk past a diamond to pick up books. Seriously. What's more? My friend sensed it as well, and neither of us said anything about it until after the fact.

I never had a sensation like that before, nor have I had one in the decades since. But I didn't go back into that shop again either. Hey, Raven. I just discovered you a few months ago, but I've been binging your content regularly. I'm the one to have stories in my ear non-stop. You don't even want to see my daily consumption. I have a paranormal and urban exploration story for you. I've wanted to write this out a few times, and it never happened, but it's time.

I was barely out of my teens the first time I went to Brook Run. My boyfriend and I had heard about an abandoned mental hospital in Dunwoody, Georgia. No one called it urban exploration back then. It was just a place people whispered about. We parked near a nursing home and slipped through a fence that had already been cut, like someone else had been there recently or never really left. Inside, the building was exactly what you would expect. Long, endless hallways, small rooms lined up on both sides.

Every door had a narrow window set into it, placed just right for someone to look out or in. It felt like the building was still warm. watching. One of my friends posed for a picture with his girlfriend in the big open cafeteria-like room. Nothing felt wrong at the time. No sudden fear, just the click of the camera and the sound of our own voices echoing back at us. Later, he had some of the photos developed, and there was someone else in it. Right behind him was a child's face, clear as day. A young black girl with short braids, smiling wide, her tongue sticking out playfully like she knew she'd been caught in the picture. She was close, too close. None of us had seen her. There had been no one else in the room.

Years later, I asked if he still had the photo, and he didn't. The second time I went back to Brooke Run, it felt different, like the place recognized us. My friend, let's call them S, had this soft rubber ring that lit up when you tapped on it. We'd been inside for about an hour when she suddenly realized it was gone. She knew she had brought it in. She knew she hadn't dropped it outside. We were standing in a section of the building built around an open courtyard. Four long hallways formed a rectangle around it, all visible from where we stood.

That's when we saw a light. It was on the far side of the courtyard, moving slowly up and down. down the hallway. It wasn't bouncing or rolling, just floating at about chest height, steady and deliberate. Exactly like S's ring. But there was no one holding it, no footsteps or shadows, just the light drifting down the hallway, as if something wanted us to see it, but not touch it. That was the moment that I understood something. Brooke Run wasn't empty. It remembered children and it remembered playing. And once you stepped inside, it could take things from you,

and give them back only if it wanted to. After that, we started exploring the outbuildings. They sat a little apart from the main wards, quieter, somehow, smaller. We assumed they'd been for staff or maybe residents who were considered more independent. The kind of places that felt less watched, which somehow made them worse. We tried door after door, all of them locked. That really wasn't unusual, and we didn't push it. We were always careful and respectful.

We never broke windows or forced our way into anywhere that didn't want us inside. Brooke Run already felt like it had rules, even abandoned. Eventually, we found one door that wasn't locked. My boyfriend reached for the handle and pulled, and the moment the door cracked open, something pushed back. A sudden rush of air pushed out of the building, blasting dust straight into our faces. It wasn't just the stale air escaping. It was forceful, like the building had taken a breath that it had been holding in for years.

And it was cold, not cool or drafty, but cold, in a way that didn't make sense for a sealed, sun-warmed structure. The dust burned our eyes, but the cold hit us deeper than that. It wrapped around us instantly. We didn't say anything, because we didn't need to. The feeling was immediate and absolute. We closed the door and we walked away without looking back.

No curiosity, no debate. Whatever was inside that building hadn't been surprised to see us. It felt like we had almost crossed a line Brookrun hadn't usually bothered enforcing. and it had warned us once. One of the rooms we found was unmistakably medical. There was no power anywhere in the building, but this room still had one of those large circular operating lights

hanging from the ceiling and frozen in place. A gurney set off to the side. Medical equipment was scattered across the floor like someone had walked out to the middle of doing something and just never came back. On the ground, it looked like there was once a thick, dark red liquid, just viscous and dried in place. I didn't know if it was iodine, blood, or something else entirely, and I didn't want to know.

The air smelled the way that abandoned hospitals always do. Musty, stale, heavy with age. But the strange thing was that nothing felt wrong. There was no pressure or fear or anything, just emptiness. Later near a stairwell, I felt something different. Just a pool, a sense of energy that didn't belong to me. I stepped away from the others, and I shut myself into the stairwell alone,

plunging myself into complete darkness. I actually shuffled my tarot cards I had with me by feel, the sound of them too loud in the silence, and asked quietly for someone to reach out to me. I never even got to look at the cards. Two doors slammed shut below me, hard, one after the other. There were no footsteps, or voices, just the sound of heavy doors closing with purpose.

I didn't investigate or call out. I didn't stay long enough to do so. I got out of there immediately, and to this day I don't know what card I actually pulled. The last time I went to Brooke Run was the craziest. I brought a co-worker, Jay, and from the start, she didn't respect the place. By then, we knew better. Brooke Run responded to you. Boundaries mattered, and,

locked doors felt intentional, but Jay didn't care. It was the 2000s, so skin-tight jeans with no pockets. She was tiny wearing painted on jeans, and her flip phone was tucked low into the front of her waistband. So if it moved, she'd feel it. If it fell, she would have noticed. There was a locked door that she wanted into. We told her to leave it alone, but she didn't. She picked up a large rock and started throwing it at the doorknob over and over.

The sound echoed sharply through the hallway, and we begged her to stop. Eventually, she did. About ten minutes later, she panicked, because her phone was gone. We went straight back to the room where she'd thrown the rock, but nothing. We searched nearby, nothing. There were six of us, so we split into pairs and searched everywhere that we had just been, but again, nothing. Right before giving up, we decided to walk the hallways one last,

time together. Down the second hallway, there it was. Her phone sat dead center on the floor, open and lit up, glowing like a beacon, not kicked aside or hidden, just placed. Every single one of us froze. We had searched that hallway multiple times and there was no prank and no accident. Brooke Run had taken it, and when it was ready, when it had made its point, it gave it back. That was the moment that I stopped wondering if Brook Run was haunted. It wasn't random, it was aware, and it didn't like being disrespected. A few years ago, it was torn down, and it's now a park. I haven't been back, but I wonder if I did go and took another picture.

Would I still see a playful kid smiling over my shoulder? Hi, Raven. Maybe your viewers can help me understand what's going on. I have a six-year-old. He'll be seven years old at the end of the month on January 25th. I've been on TikTok, and I come across the strange and unusual stories all the time. I love those, the way that I love your stories. I hear past life stories, and I'm truly fascinated by them,

especially the ones that can be traced back to who they remember being. My son, though, I don't know how to explain it. There have been times since he was four that he would talk about remembering our old house. It started with him saying, Mommy, I remember when you were yelling and upset because you burnt spaghetti on the stove. I had never burned spaghetti on the stove. So I initially was like,

Huh? What are you talking about? To which my son would say, Do you remember? It was when we had the white stove in a little, White House. He would bring up the burnt spaghetti so much that it genuinely started to upset me because that's never happened.

Not for me, at least. I never lashed out at him. It would just scare me a little because he was remembering something so specific that I didn't remember. He was really adamant about it. His story never changed. He was about four when he would bring this up. A little background info,

don't keep it brief. I was in a car accident with him when he was about three. We were both fine and walked away without a scratch. It totaled our car and it was pretty bad. I hear stories about events like this that cause quantum leaps. I don't want to assume, but I can't really explain why he has these memories. Anyway, fast forward to him being a six-year-old. We were sitting on the floor playing with magnetiles,

one night when he started to sob and tell me that he missed our old house and his old room. Remember, before this, he constantly brought up a white stove and a little white house. Now he was crying like someone had died. I had to hug him and tell him that everything was okay, and I asked him to tell me about his old house. He said that he remembers the stove and the house. He remembers his room being colorful and having low. lots of toys. He remembers me being his mommy. He remembers being four years old. He remembers me

playing with him a lot. That's all that I can remember from what he told me. I recorded it on my phone, but recently when I went to try and find the video, I couldn't find it. It was last year 2025, but I can't find it. I want to find it. We talked for about 30 minutes and he was emotional about it the entire time. He hasn't talked about it since then, but now I can't stop thinking about it. I hope he is okay now. I've asked about it, but he changes the subject. He'll start talking about things that I remember from the house that we're currently in. The kicker in all of this is that we have actually lived in two houses since he was born. The problem is that he was only five or six months old when we moved from our first house

to the house that we live in now. He was born in January 2019. We moved in July of 2019. Do you remember intricate details about your life at six months old? He didn't have his own room in that house. He had his own crib in my room, but that was as far as it was where he slept. I didn't have a white stove. It was black.

And the house that we lived in wasn't a small white house. It wasn't huge, but it definitely wasn't a white house. So what is he remembering? I do feel like I'm missing some details, but I'm typing this on my phone and just trying to get it off of my mind. It makes me sad that it made him cry, but I hope that I helped him release a life that he once knew.

Hi, Raven. I have a story to tell you and your listeners from 2002 when I was 19. I had moved away from home to live by myself and managed to make a few new friends quite soon after I had moved away to this new city that I was living in back then. I was and still am very interested in paranormal events, aliens, time slips, and such. I had started a spiritual journey of my own, six months prior to this event. Before I go deeper into it, mind you that I'm not religious

in any way and my home country is not religious either. If you believe here in God and anything similar, paranormal things included, you are considered mentally ill, because no sane person believes in anything that can't be proven with science. That's the mentality here, and that's how I have been raised, too. Spirituality, however, spoke to me and gave answers to many of my questions. So, once I felt like it was meant for me, I started to practice it daily as a lifestyle. It's still my lifestyle in 26.

I read a lot, getting familiar with spiritual concepts such as karma and Dharma, past lives and spiritual entities, both good and bad. While I don't believe in religious demons or hell, I do believe in different frequency levels which inhabit entities matching that frequency level. The same way as we have birds and monkeys living in trees and fish and squids living in bodies of water. It's a lot easier to say a demon than to say a negative non-human entity. So I do call these entities demons. One of the friends that I made in this new city after moving there was a young man.

He was four years older than me and very shy. We liked the same band and the same kinds of games and met every now and then over a coffee to chit-chat. I learned soon that he was a twin, and that his twin sister had recently engaged and was ready to get married. This man himself was single and it was a sore spot to him to see his sister succeeding in love life while he didn't seem to attract a girlfriend. He mentioned a few times that it made him feel like a failure. To which I always said that there was still a lot of time to find someone, and that he shouldn't give up that easily. He did give up easily.

He started to tell me one day how he was messing with demons, intentionally conjuring them because they made him feel comfortable. He heard them hissing like snakes, and telling him that angels and other positive entities were lying, and that if he followed these demons, they would fulfill all of his wishes, even get him a girlfriend which he so desired. When he tried to argue with them and say that he was loved, the demons mocked him and said that even God had abandoned him. I listened to this friend explaining all this and thought to myself that this can't be good.

I even tried to tell him that he probably shouldn't be summoning entities he didn't know, as has had a high risk of turning against him. But he never listened to me. I warned him one more time, and then I let him keep conjuring his false friends wishing to stay away from all this. One day he sent me a distraught text message while I was home. He said that he couldn't take these demons anymore. He wanted them to be gone. They mocked him and kept hissing all around, now making sounds of scorching flames too.

Not really knowing what to do and if this was really a case of him managing to conjure real demons or just a mental breakdown, I calmed him down and said that I could try to cleanse his home from a distance. I knew enough to protect myself from negative energies, but I did warn him that I might not be able to drive these demons away because I had not done it before. I knew how to do it in theory, so that I'm safe, but theory is different from practice. He pleaded with me to do anything to help him out. I sat down to meditate, put on an incense to clean the space where I was, and called an Archangel Michael to aid me. I created a spiritual protection around myself and asked Michael to fortify it with his strength.

I forbade anyone negative from entering the room that I was in. I had never been to my friend's place and I didn't know what the house looked like, but I concentrated thinking of him and said to the universe that I want to help this man and cleanse his home from the demons he had been conjuring there. I felt no strong resistance or anything extremely bad while. I kept cleaning his house from a distance. But I did sense that there was something negative there, which had to go. After maybe 20 to 30 minutes, since I couldn't meditate for a long time with this kind of intense work,

I came back to my own senses, stretched, and then noticed that I needed to use the bathroom. The bathroom was just behind my bedroom's door on the right, which was a very convenient placement. I got up, walked to my bedroom door. door, opened it, and instantly, at the same second that I opened the door, I felt like there was a wall of darkness and ice just behind it, just glued to the threshold where the hallway ended and my bedroom began. And boy, it was angry. I stopped immediately, utterly confused and slightly scared. I got a visual image of a short man in a black robe with his hood up to cover his face.

He was a head taller than me, so really short because I'm the size of a 12-year-old, even as an adult. His eyes were red, his skin was ashy pale like he was sick, and most importantly, he was pissed off with me. I knew then that one of the demons, or whatever negative entities my friend had been conjuring, had rushed into the house hoping to stop me from doing what I was doing. He didn't want to leave my friend's place. He didn't want me to come between his plans and my friend's misery because it served his entity. But he was unable to enter the bedroom because I had made protection around it.

It leered just at the threshold, as close as it was able to come without touching the spiritual barrier, literally in my face. I hadn't sensed anything during my meditation, so this was a big surprise. I started the doorframe still holding the doorknob and calculated if I could go to the bathroom now, because in order to get there, I would need to walk through this entity. It was literally blocking my way, and it stood there like a statue.

Red eyes fixated on me. I gathered my courage and then walked through him with as much confidence as I could muster and didn't look back. I went to the bathroom, did my business, and walked through him back to my bedroom, and closed the door behind me. After that, I firmly told him that he was not welcomed here, and that it was better for him to leave right now. To underline that I meant this, I sent Archangel Michael after him and expanded the spiritual barrier around the whole building. I did a secondary barrier over myself to make sure that he had not gotten anything on me. After that, I waited 15 minutes or so until I dared to open the bedroom door again to see if this threatening entity was still looming there.

I took a careful peek and noticed that the entity was gone, and when I checked through the house to double check, I didn't see or sense him. I contacted my friend and said that the spiritual cleansing had been done, but that something from his home arrived here, and that this was going to be the first and last time that I help him when it comes to matters of demons. He thanked me from the bottom of his heart,

saying that the home felt a lot lighter, just to contact me three days later that he had constantly, conjured up more demons because at least they loved him, unlike women. Needless to say, I didn't intervene with this demon session any longer, because it was not my business in the first place. And if he was going to undo all of the hard work I had done for him, just because he lacked a girlfriend, so be it then. I also ditched him as a friend because he started to show a lot more weird things.

And I told him that I can't be responsible for his well-being, that he needs professional help to deal with his issues. He didn't argue back. If you wish to know what happened to this friend, he contacted me maybe ten years later to ask how I was doing and tell me that he had been married for some time already. I never replied, because when I'm done with someone, I am done with someone.

And it takes a lot to get me to a spot where I don't want to interact with you any longer. It's so much for dwelling in self. pity, to the extent of being willing to meddle with demons. I wonder if his wife knows any of this. I don't talk about this with a lot of people, because a lot of people I know personally would not take it seriously, but I feel like you guys would have a more open mind. To start, my family was not religious at all. My parents weren't atheists, and I feel like they probably believe in something, but

We never went to church or ever talked about it. My husband, however, grew up in a pretty religious family. We went to high school together, and I remember him leaving the classroom when we learned about things like Big Bang Theory and Evolution. He himself, however, seemed to grow out of that as he became an adult. We got together a few years after high school, running into each other one day, and I could tell that he was not the same. kid that I went to school with.

He's more agnostic than anything. But it's never been a point of contention between us, which was good. Obviously, we got married, and we've been together for 21 years now. We also have a son together, Elliot, who is now 12, and he's such a bright and kind kid. I'm constantly impressed by the things he teaches me and the little notes his teachers send home about the good things he's done in class. This story is kind of about him and our dog, Cooper. We got Cooper when my son, Eli, which is Elliot's nickname, was two years old.

And it was not a planned thing either. We went to a pet store to look around as they had a lot of different animals. I went to this same place as a kid a lot just because it was almost like an indoor petting zoo. They let you hold the animals with their help and supervision from cats and dogs to rodents, birds, and even some reptiles. It was during the winter, so we really couldn't go to the zoo, and I wanted us to get out of the house for a while. We had discussed getting a pet prior, wanting Eli to have a childhood pet to grow up with, but we never looked into it more after the first conversation. We went there to look at the different animals and see how he would react.

to them. Some kids are legitimately afraid of animals, and I certainly didn't want to get a pet for my kid just to be scared of it, so this was a good test. I was genuinely surprised by his reaction. The front of the store had the birds, so we walked through them and he seemed amused by them, especially the little lovebirds. But otherwise, he didn't seem particularly interested in any of the animals. We walked over to the kennels with the cats and dogs, and they were telling us about how they had a litter of puppies that they had taken in. I'm a sucker for puppies and kittens, so I knew that I wanted to see them.

They lit us into the little play area where the puppies were, and three of us were all watching them. They were an adorable mix. Still not sure of what, but I know they were at least part chocolate lab. There were spotted ones and a couple that were pure black and brown. I set Eli on the floor next to me, and one of the puppies walked up to him and started licking him. He was trying to touch him, and surprisingly he was gentle. He wasn't squeezing or smacking the pup like young kids normally do, which was a good sign to me.

A couple of the other pups came up to him, and while he touched them too, he kept his eyes glued. on the pure black one. When we were wrapping up, he kept reaching for that same one. He started crying when he was out of reach, and the puppy just watched us. It was like they had already formed that bond. I wanted him right then and there, and I knew my husband could see it too. We were going home with a dog that day. From that day on, those two were inseparable.

Cooper followed Eli around everywhere. I bought him a dog bed so he could sleep in his room with him. He was still small, but I didn't want either of them to roll on to the other. The older they got, the more Eli became attached to him. We took care of him like he was a second child. He was spoiled. He got gifts, stocking during Christmas, all of it. When Eli started school, he was upset that he could.

couldn't go with him, and boy did Cooper pout too. I did feel bad having to leave him home alone during the day, but I was able to go home during lunch to let him out and check on him. I'm sorry for all the extra detail, but I wanted to explain how close the two of them were from the beginning. But it was when Eli was talking more that this story started. I would hear him in this room playing, and he would address Cooper as he did this. It just seemed like normal kid stuff,

and I never really listened to it too closely. When we were eating at the table, Cooper would always watch us. Now I thought at first that he was wanting our food, so I started feeding him at the same time that we ate. But he wouldn't eat his food. You would continue to watch us, but it wasn't like he was begging for food. He just sat close to the table.

Sometimes he would eat some of his food and then walk over to be next to Eli. One night when I was setting the table, Eli asked me to make a spot for Cooper. I thought it was cute. He just wanted his dog next to him, but I told him no, and then that pets don't eat at the table. I remember the look on his face. It wasn't like a kid pouting.

It was more of a frustrated look. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me he doesn't like it. He said he doesn't like eating like an animal. It's not his fault. I was confused by this statement. He doesn't like eating on the floor, yet that's all he's ever known. And furthermore, what is not his fault? I remember smiling and thinking, okay, he's a kid, just trying to think of a reason to get him a spot at the table, right?

so I just told him that he is an animal, which is why he gets his own food section, but it's not at the table. I remember the way he looked over at Cooper defeated, and then went and sat in his spot at the table. I called Cooper over to his bowl, and after a slight hesitation, he walked over. That's when Eli said,

he didn't used to be a dog. I didn't know what he meant by that, and I didn't even think he knew what he meant, so I just left it alone and continued with dinner. But after that night, Eli kept bringing it up at different times. It wasn't obsessive, but just occasionally, like he was trying to make me understand better. One night, we were in the living room doing something,

and while we were talking, he mentioned how Cooper knew how to do that too. When my husband asked him what he meant, he explained that, when he was a human, he used to do the same thing. He had this whole story about what Cooper used to do. My husband asked him where he got this idea from, and Eli again admitted that Cooper had told him.

He said that he wasn't very nice as a human when he died, so when he came back, he was a dog, because he got into trouble. My husband just looked at me with a, that's weird kind of look, and didn't respond. I just said, oh, that's interesting, and left it at that. Fast forward a few months, and I was home with Eli and Cooper.

My husband was out of town for work, so it was just us. I was making dinner, and as I started pulling out the plates, I saw Cooper standing by the table with his tail wagging. I got this weird thought in my head, and then just said, screw it, let's give it a try. Eli sat in the chair against the wall where he normally sat. I put a plastic plate at the spot that was typically empty and called for Cooper. He turned around and jumped into the chair and sat in it, facing the plate. He didn't sniff around or tried to get at the plate either.

Eli looked at me curiously but excited that Cooper was sitting at the table. I made Eli's plate and set it in front of him. I grabbed a can of Cooper's food and served it on the small plate in front of him. He looked at me as I said, wait, Cooper. I said this as I pointed at him. He knew some basic commands, like wait, come here, roll over, shake, and he did play fetch. We weren't trying for a trained dog to that extent, but he caught on quickly. To my surprise, he just stared at the plate.

He didn't try to inch closer to it. He just sat patiently. I made my own plate and sat down and told them that they could start. It was a normal dinner, minus my husband, but I was shocked at how normal Cooper ate. He didn't make a mess. He didn't put his paws on the table. I even pushed the plate towards him so he could get to the back. Once he finished, he sat in the chair with his face away from the table, just watching us.

Again, he didn't look like he was begging. It was kind of strange. We were still eating, but having him sit and watch us was kind of weird, so I looked at him and told him that he could get down if he was done. He did a little dance with his front paws and then hopped down and went to his water bowl. I was stunned. There was no way he could understand me, right? Eli just looked so incredibly amused by the whole thing. I asked him if that was weird and he told me it was because Cooper knew how to eat at a table.

He even told me that he taught him not to put his elbows on the table. We're not a real proper etiquette type of family, so I didn't really notice that until he pointed it out. I told my husband when he returned what had happened and he left. He claimed it's just because he's a well-behaved dog, but that just doesn't sit right with me. How would he know to wait until we all had our plates? Why would he wait to jump down until I practically excused him from the table? We never trained him on any of those things. It's Eli that kept putting the thought in my head.

He said Cooper used to be human, and because he wasn't very nice, he came. came back as a dog. Like I said, past lives aren't really something my family nor my husband ever really talked about. It's a crazy thought to think it could happen to another human, sure, but a dog? I don't think my husband believes any of it, but it stays in my mind some days when we're having dinner and he watches, or when we give him a bath, when we celebrate a birthday with him. I wonder just what memories my dog might have and how he only seems to be able to communicate through a child

who also has limited knowledge about life itself. All I know is that it's changed the way I talk and treat my pets and fellow member of our family. Hello Raven. I love your channel. Magical change guy here and yes, it's still appearing. This happened back when I was commuting. on my bike along the Iron Horse Trail that runs along a former train track near Walnut Creek, California. It began near dusk as I was pedaling my way home, when peripherally I could see another cyclist inching up beside me.

His headlight was on. I could see his front tire and his feet peddling. It was annoying as he was pacing me. I stopped at a crosswalk, expecting this guy to stop as well, hoping he would just zip ahead. but he was gone. Both sides of the trail were flanked by fencing at that point, and he was literally right next to me, but he was simply gone. This happened to me at least half a dozen times.

The ghost cyclists would only appear when I wasn't thinking about it. When I actively looked, it would never show. I suppose it's some poor guy who had been hit by a car and is still trying to make it home. I haven't written that trail for years, but I am still fascinated by it. I have a lot of other paranormal and glitch stories that I'll share and appreciate your sharing these amazing experiences with everyone. In my early 30s, I decided to give a try to a guided past life meditation that I found on YouTube. The meditation promised to guide the listener into a past lifetime and bring something important back from that experience to his current life.

Since I was familiar with meditation practices and felt like I needed to unwind a bit, I thought that this would be a fun little experience. If nothing else, I could lie down, take a little break from everything, and just listen to a soothing voice speak into my ears through the headphones. Unfortunately, the said guided past life meditation was not for my liking. Instead of going directly to a past lifetime, it lingered in this current lifetime's memories for the majority of the time the meditation was running. First to a childhood, and then to a moment when you're a baby, and then to the moment you're being

born, from there to the womb and from the womb backwards in time even more, to an in-between state of this lifetime and your past. It was very distracting to me. And when the guided meditation finally landed on a past lifetime, I was too distracted by all the sidetracking and I managed to get just a few images. A young man working on a ship, wearing some long boots and dying of plague. Since I had not been able to concentrate properly on the whole meditation, I brushed this off as my mind imagining things just to come up with something as the guided meditation prompted it to do. Fast forward almost a decade, near to my 40s, and I have a desire to do the past meditation again. My teeth have been troubling me my whole life, so much that I have spent an amount worthy of a house-down payment or brand-new car for annual dentist visits.

Sometimes 10 visits within a year. I knew that it was past life-related. Same to my dentist phobia, which I managed to cure instantaneously, after I recalled being told. tortured in a past life by having my teeth pulled out. But my gingivitis wasn't healing. I wondered if it had any past life connections because I had battled it since childhood with no improvements. I thought it would be worth trying to see if any past lifetime connections came out. So I sat down to scroll through YouTube until I landed on a guided past life regression, which felt like the right one. The meditation was very pleasant.

And the guy leading the regression knew what he was doing, so I had no problems getting into a good, relaxed state. I made an intentional decision that I wanted to find the lifetime where my gum issues came from, if there's anything like that. Otherwise, I had no preferences or wishes, not even a desire for this meditation to work. I went with the flow, with a goal in mind, and suddenly, I see myself as a young man on a ship. The ship is on an open sea and looks like those big commercial ships in the 18th century, delivering goods from continents and countries to another. The day is sunny. I'm standing on the deck of the ship, and I feel really happy and excited for this work.

I love it. I'm wearing a white shirt with short or rolled up sleeves, brown simple pants, and tall, dark brown boots. I'm still young. in my early twenties. I'm Caucasian. Next, I'm inside the ship working on some boxes and sorting something out. It's surprisingly dark inside even when the sun is bright on the outside. My colleague, one of the sailors, comes down the wooden stairs and says to me that my superior, or someone else higher up, wants me to do work X.

I don't know what the work is. I can't get it out in that meditation. I know that the superior is a fat man, taller than me, with South European looks, with a black mustache, brownish skin, and messy black hair. I know that he's not the captain. He's always wearing a dirty white shirt with opened buttons, and he has a really bad temper with a short fuse. I tell my colleague that I will get the job done, and he leaves. Then I'm back sorting the items and doing whatever I was doing before being interrupted. Sooner than I realize, I'm called up to this deck by the superior. He wants to see if I did the job and how well I did, as he's always suspicious of everyone.

To my horror, I realized that I got so invested in whatever I was doing that I simply forgot the task that was assigned to me. I go to meet him up on the deck, as I tell this superior of mine that I didn't finish the task, that I could. genuinely forgot, he gets furious like he always does. He gets really agitated and turns red in his face and then starts to cuss and yell at me. He's very animated and loud when he's angry, and really scary too. At the end of him lecturing me, he swings something which looks like a willow whip towards me. It's in his right hand, and his plan is to swing it toward me as a, a shoe go away, you useless brat type of way.

So he puts his whole force of his big body into that swing. However, without realizing it, he's standing too close to me and the thin item in his hand is slightly longer than anticipated, so his full force hit with that whip-like thing hits me square in the face. It splits my upper lip open like a boiled hot dog, from left upper lip downwards, making a smaller cuts to my lower lip. As soon as he accidentally hit me, he gets a horrified look in his eyes, freezes for a moment, and then runs away. I don't see him for a good while as he's hiding from me, ashamed.

He was not going to hurt me. He's not a violent man. My superior accidentally splitting my lip became the immediate joke of the day. Everyone's laughing, amused, both at me and my superior. Nothing really ever happens on the ship, so this is a welcomed little distraction. I try to laugh with them, but the open wound hurts. I'm given a suspicious-looking wet rag to press the wound with, and the cool water eases the pain a bit. The same night, when I'm sleeping in my own bed, I keep pressing that wet rag against my wound, and I cry as silently as possible, because it hurts so damn much.

It's unbelievably painful. I think my colleagues hear me sobbing because the next day no one is laughing or joking anymore. Before the incident, I was a happy, lively man who spoke a lot. I was full of energy. Now the pain is too much. I couldn't eat for weeks and even drinking was difficult. I become depressed and sad, tired because of the constant pain.

No one in nothing really helps the pain. I'm hungry, thirsty, and in pain. It's even hard to do the work because sleeping is difficult from the pain. Everyone looks at me with concern and pity whenever they see me. And my friends offer to do the tasks so I can rest. My colleagues offer me a lot of comfort, which I'm grateful for, even when I feel useless and weak. After some time, my superior comes to apologize to me for all of this, but I say it's okay.

I really don't have any grudge against him. Time passes, and my wound heals, leaving a long, nasty-looking scar on my upper lip. This turns out to be in my favor, as whenever we stop by a port where we can stay on land for a few days, girls are really concerned about the scar. Like, oh, how did you get it? it and does it hurt and oh you poor thing it's easy to request with a flirt some head petting kisses and care from these girls i get countless kisses from them simply stating that it still hurts and a kiss might heal it my friends from the ship laugh at this finding it amusing i'm in heaven and enjoying all this attention that i'm getting

it's never been this easy to be this popular among women. At the end of my meditation of this past lifetime, I realized that I'm sick. I've contracted a plague from the last port where we visited. The plague had arrived in the city a few days earlier before us, so the city wasn't in a state of alarm, and everyday life went on as normal, including us docking in the port and staying there for a little while

before continuing our journey. We're far away on the sea when I get sick. I walk out from my bed with my last strength onto the deck, wanting to have fresh air because breathing is difficult. I sit on the left-hand side of the ship, leaning against the board with my chin lit up to look at the sky. It's warm and sunny, with some fluffy clouds here and there. The sea is friendly, and the day is most excellent for sailing.

I know that I'm dying. It's disorienting to realize that when the weather is so nice. I'm thinking of my mother and how she's at home running her own errands without any idea that her son is about to die. I know that the news of my death will not reach her in ages, and I estimate that it will take around three months until she hears it. By that time, I'm already long gone. My body will be tossed into the sea as soon as I die. I exit from my meditation before I die because I don't want to see it. It isn't until then that I remember that almost a decade ago,

I had that hasty meditation where I got the basics of this lifetime I had just seen. A young man on a ship dying to a plague. It wasn't something that I imagined back then. I was on that ship. Hi, Raven. I once sent you a story about a stuffed cat toy. Today, I sent you another story about another kind of mysterious cat. When we were first married, my husband was still attending college. I was working in an office near the college, and we were living in a little basement apartment

as college-slash-new-career couples tend to do. Our landlord, like many other landlords, was vehemently against pets, and we obeyed this. I promise. And this is essential to the story. So despite us not having a cat, and the neighbors upstairs not having a cat, we kept seeing a cat out of the corners of her eyes. It was quite classic, just a small cat in a corner. But when we turn to look, it would be gone. Sometimes we swear we heard a cat. We even spoke to our neighbors, and funnily enough, they seemed to have the same experience. The husband upstairs was actually the son of the landlord, so we got him to ask his dad if a cat had, I don't know, died in the house in years past or something.

No real reports of anything. So we lived with occasional sightings of some random cat in our apartment. Then came an event that might be separate, but we lived. like to blame the ghost cat on this, simply because we hope two random events might be connected. It was evening. I was hanging out on the floor working on a puzzle. My husband was at the computer, when all of a sudden I get slammed in the face with a goldfish cracker, at least as hard as one can be hit by a tiny cracker. I gave the expected, what the heck? response to my husband, assuming he had thrown the cracker. Though I also had to wonder where the cracker had come from because I don't

think we actually ever purchased those snacks. But lo and behold, there was a cracker in my hand that had come from somewhere. My husband insisted that he had not thrown it, nor did he actually have any crackers with him because we didn't buy those things. There was a bit of a back and forth between us, because my husband is an incorrigible prankster, but I did wind up believing that he hadn't thrown it, and still believe him to this day. Our best bet is the ghost cat had dragged it from somewhere and flicked it at me. Or maybe we somehow had two weird events in this house. Hello, this is Rod in Los Angeles again.

Don't fall asleep just yet, this is your happy place. I know it's tempting. I fall asleep to as the Raven Dreams's voice fairly often, but I try to keep those eyelids pride open because I have a platter of little spooky stories that center roughly around Hollywood, the land of dreams and illusion. We're starting at Santa Monica Boulevard, and going up to Sunset Boulevard and eventually to Universal Studios. It has taken me weeks to get this keyboard fixed and I want to provide a big platter, a good 11 or 12-minute spooky platter. Don't take this wrong rod, but based on word count, you're looking at maybe,

Nine minutes at most. Anyway. If Raven has some soft crickets, those might be nice coming in over there. No, no cricket sounds. Every time I hear crickets at night anywhere, I feel as though I'm enjoying Halloween. It doesn't matter what time of year it is. It's customary to have a snack or a beverage or both during a ghost session. So I invite you to have a cup of coffee and some biscuits with me.

That relaxing, creepy feeling is settling in. Don't worry if none of this makes sense, because it's all very strange. Some of my first memories are of Halloween. And I had parents who said basically Halloween is good, go trick-or-treating. You get unlimited candy for free. The Batman 1966 TV show, which hit TV a little before I was born, was very popular and every kid wanted to be Batman at some point. Eventually, as the 1970s happened, I started getting ideas,

about being a makeup artist and making rubber masks. And then around 1975, on a camping trip to Goal Lake, at a little general store, $1.25 and $25 bought my first issue of Famous Monsters Magazine. That one issue revealed to me that there was a whole world of monster fandom and monster products, available as movies, books, record albums, and masks. This magazine covered the entire world of monsters. I just wanted to dive further into this world. Now we're jumping forward about eight years from age eight to age 16.

The adventure proper starts at the intersection of Santa Monica and Western, where I generally would get off the freeway to visit friends in the Hollywood area. I was just around driving age at 16, around 1983, and mobility was very important if I wanted to go around putting makeup on people. over on St. Martin's Place, a small street near Western. That's where artist Rick Silverthorne lived, and he had turned his tiny apartment into a functioning makeup studio. He showed me how to build rubber masks. I needed to learn these basic skills before going looking for a horror movie to work on.

I found a project in 1986 at Easy TV Studios, and the hauntings, the haunted sets, technically begin here on Santa Monica Boulevard. Easy TV studios was haunted. We mostly worked at night and that was when things happened. At least five different members of the crew, including myself, witnessed strange lights floating around the building or heard eerie thumping sounds coming from the loft. So this job was exciting, but it was unnerving. That building had something going on with it.

Maybe it's just a coincidence that the next thing I worked on was filmed in another haunted building, right? In 1987, I found myself working on Andy Milligan's film monstrosity. A comedic take on the Frankenstein story. Made on the cheap. New York budget filmmaker Andy Milligan was in Los Angeles and he had rented an old empty dance hall. Away east on sunset where sunset curves into the city of Silver Lake. That was a really haunted building, although I never saw the ghost myself. The security guard, a guy named Wayne, he saw it.

He was a lanky cowboy with the hat and the handlebar mustache and the Texan or possibly Tennessee accent, almost a mythic figure himself. Now Wayne claimed that the ghost appeared almost every night that he kept watch on the building, which was an old disused bar and dance hall from the 19. The ghost was a glowing vapor cloud, one that would appear around one in the morning and drift quietly around the room's perimeter, occasionally making sandpaper-like scratching noises. Wayne had been asked not to speak about the ghost, but it came out accidentally in a conversation. And so I pressed him for specific details. Damn right, I did. That building is still there and is occupied by some new businesses now.

I don't know if the haunting continues there. But on to the Secrets and Mysteries show. This was hosted by Edward Mulhair, and who you might remember was the Ghost and the Ghost and Mismore TV show. I used to love that show. Anyway, every episode of Secret and Mysteries covered a different aspect of the paranormal world. Episodes were about ghosts,

the Loch Dess Monster, Bigfoot, all that stuff. This was filmed in 1987. They needed an alien puppet head and a mask for a UFO episode, and the producers had a small actor who could wear a mask and a costume and play this little gray alien. And that production too was being filmed while an actual paranormal flap, or sharp increase in sightings, was taking place in Los Angeles, with even some people on the TV crew seeing UFOs and ghosts.

the very same phenomenon of the show was about in real life. That's as strange as you can get. Briefly, I want to talk about Laurel Canyon, the winding road cutting up into the Hollywood Hills, and steeped in filmmaking and music legend as well. The Canyon Street has a complex history, and there's a real aura of strangeness there. It's also a dangerous winding road to begin with,

so it is not a tourist attraction. And Laurel Canyon has a history of actual hauntings, like images from the Old West intruding upon the 20th century. Covered wagons, people on horseback who shouldn't exist there, are all sometimes seen. And there is a little country store at the base of the haunted lookout mountain road. It's called the Canyon Country Store. Now, we all love the movie The Fog from 19.

with the ghosts that travel inside the fog. It's spooky as hell, yeah. For The Fog, well, the early edits of the film were not scary enough. There was a concern that the film was not scary enough to do good business. They wanted a hit, so John Carpenter's crew filmed more scares, more sequences showing ghosts attacking people. These included some scenes with a store clerk, frightened to be working alone late at night.

as this ghostly phenomena suddenly manifests in his store for a minute before fading away. These scenes were actually filmed at the Canyon Country Store. For those of us who have worked anywhere alone at night and heard creepy sounds, this scene near the beginning of the film is frightening in a very relatable way. Maybe filming on a real haunted street helped the scene somehow. Does that sound possible to you? And then there's Universal Studios. The studio at the top of the hill, a weird combination of movie studio and theme park, the first of its kind,

and haunted possibly by the spirit of Lon Cheney Sr. The Phantom of the Opera himself. Cheney was the biggest horror star of the silent movie era. The myth or reality of the Cheney Phantom Ghost, complete with Cape haunting the old stage 28, the Paris Opera House was so prevalent for decades. It was written into one of the storylines of the Hardy Boys slash Nancy Drew Mystery series that Universal produced in the 1970s. And even after the demolition of Stage 28, a few years ago, to make room for modern sound stages,

that area of the studio lot continues to get reports about the phantom figure. And the laughter. It's still there, you guys. And that's a good place to pause here, at Universal Studio, which is the birthplace of the classic movie monsters. You know those old monsters love it every time you remember them by watching all their movies. And lastly, I send good wishes to you all. Thank you, Rod. So I'm 35 years old, old enough to feel crazy when I tell this story because there's literally no logical explanation. My husband and I started dating in 2020. I was on night shift and where I lived, a bus didn't run,

to bring my son home from school, so in fall of 2021, I started taking my son to school and sleeping at my boyfriend's, now husband's house, because a bus did come by his house. I did this one morning in maybe September of 2021, got back to his house and went to bed. I got woken up by him walking into the bedroom. I kept my eyes closed, and he grabbed my eyes. foot and said, what are you doing? Cheerful and kind of loud. I felt him sit on the foot of the bed and get in the dresser and then nothing. Didn't feel him stand up, didn't hear him leave, nothing. I crack my eyes open and he's not there. I look at my phone and it's 10 a.m. He doesn't get off work until 2.30. I get up and he's not in the house. Look outside.

his car's not home. He was still at work. If you want more stories, I do have like three more, and all of them involve our kiddos, and they're absolutely terrifying. Please do send them in. This one is just creepy to me because I was home alone. I wasn't half asleep, and I've never had anything like that happened before or since. Hi, Raven. I'm 17 years old, and this story is about a potential ghost encounter I had as a child. Of course, you never know what tricks your mind can play on you, but I remember this quite vividly. I was around eight or nine, I think, and me, my mom, and my little brother were living in a small cozy house in the woods.

It was a red house with white details, like a classic one you would see here in Sweden from where I'm from. I've had multiple paranormal experiences in that house, and I was usually a bit scared of being alone. in there, or going to the toilet at night. But it wasn't too bad. For this experience, I was lying in bed sleeping and I woke up. Me and my brother usually slept with my mom in her bedroom and it was early in the morning, maybe around 5 a.m. So my brother was asleep next to me. I heard my mom outside in the living room typing on her computer, and I figured she had gotten up early to work. When I looked toward the end of the bed, I saw a shadow of a man in a hat and a suit. I couldn't see a face, only his silhouette.

He was walking from side to side in the room, slowly, but with a happy jumpiness in his step. I looked at him for a couple of seconds and felt mostly confused, and only a slight bit of fear since I had just woken up. He then seemed to notice me staring at him. him, and he stopped and looked at me. My fear had been building up slowly at this point as I felt more and more awake. Then he grabbed his hat and gave me a little nod as if he was saying hi. In that moment, I felt this wave of calmness and coziness, which made me cuddle up in the blankets again and fall asleep.

When I woke up again later, it was probably around nine in the morning. and I told my mom about what had happened. She asked me to describe the man, and specifically the hat. She then told me that her grandfather used to always wear a suit in a hat like the one I described. I had never seen or even heard about her grandfather before. Yet the way he supposedly acted and what he wore, lined up perfectly to what I had encountered. This experience was actually pretty wholesome,

and nice. My mom is a big believer of spirits, and that death isn't the end. Hello there, friends, Raven here. Welcome to the end of this episode of As the Raven Dreams. I hope that you genuinely enjoyed this collection of scary stories, as I enjoyed putting them together for you. If the platform you're on has the option to follow the podcast

or leave ratings or reviews, please do consider doing so as it helps the podcast grow. Of course, if you enjoy the content, that is. If you didn't enjoy it, then feel free to also leave a rating as honesty is important, and I take all feedback seriously. Also, I do have a YouTube channel. It's a lot of the same content, but we do live streams on Saturdays around 6 p.m. Central, so if you're free once Saturday night and want to come over and say hi,

I would love to have you there. We just kind of have a good time doing whatever we want for the few hours that I'm online. You can also join the Patreon, patreon.com slash as the raven dreams, for early access to all this content. Check out the website, astherravendreams.com, for information and where you can listen to the podcast, find all my social media links, find the merch store, and send in your own stories to keep the podcast going, as it pretty much exists on crowdsourced content at this point. All of you really do keep the show going, so a huge thank you for that. Also on the website is information about the book that I wrote, titled The Insomniacs Experiment by Raven Adams.

It's a psychological thriller, and I think it's pretty good. You might actually like it. Check it out. It's available on Amazon. Or if you want a signed copy, you can email me to see if I have any left, and I will absolutely oblige if I do. All that said, friends, I hope you have a lovely rest of your day. I hope I see you again here very soon. But until then, remember that you are loved. You are valid. You are important. And the world, is a better place with you in it. Don't forget that. Until next time, much love and sleep well.