Eerie Stuff

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GaistHeidegger

I’ll open up with scary shit that my family and I have dealt with in the mountains of Stuart, Virginia, which is a damned tiny town just about in the middle of nowhere. My father’s family line has held a significant track of land in the mountains for quite some time, and the ‘farm’ (I use this loosely, as I doubt it’s ever farmed anything) must be reached after driving a good twenty minutes on gravel on the laughable mockery of road that serves as a driveway. Needless to say, it’s secluded.

Certainly this was a fun place to visit as a kid. Imagine a tiny two-story (second floor was the attic, really) house with a godawful earthen cellar\crawlspace, situated on the very peak of a hill between mountains. On the ridge to the east of the house is a fucking makeshift cemetary with a dozen or so faded, blank, and broken headstones. This contains those whom I mention in the history below.

For a bit of history, back before the civil war some rather unsavory folk lived on the land, distant cousins from my father’s line. Here the initial home burned down in the midst of a flash forest fire- while they were still inside. Among this lovable family was a reportedly insane aunt who castrated a drifter on the dining room table. Fun. The land was cleared, house rebuilt, and the space claimed by the next in the family line and his new spouse. Over several years they attempted to have children three times– the first two were total miscarriages, and the third died less then a week after birth from illness. Less then six months after that, the mother died, and he moved out again and sold the place.

(Bear with me for not having names and the like, but mostly trying to give you an idea of the fucked up background this godforsaken place has. I actually took notes the last time I was out there, recollected from my grandmother, but I’m at work at the moment. If someone -is- curious about the background, you’ll want to look into the Kirkman family and the Turner family in Stuart VA. Anyways, to the story itself.)

Eventually the land was bought again in the interests of ‘heritage’ (ugh, why’d they have to?) and brought back into the family. For the last six decades, my grandmother’s been living there, and about two years ago my father moved back in with her to take over the property and aide her health. He came back a month later after changing his mind. It seems that while he was there a number of rather disturbing things began to occur— and it is during his recollection of these things that he related what had happened when he was a boy there.

One night when he was 11 he woke up in the middle of the night at a little after 3 AM. Upon turning to look at his brother, he found him pale and in a cold sweat, shaking uncontrollably. The two of them heard a clatter in the kitchen, and made their way in to find my grandmother sitting at the table, holding a cup of coffee, but shaking so much it was spilling everywhere. Apparently my uncle had woken suddenly and found a face with eyeless sockets inches from his face, staring at him with a low hiss. He was too busy shitting his pants to do anything as it stood up and walked out of the room. My grandmother had heard footsteps from down the hall, and called out to tell the boys to go back to bed. Her room at the time didn’t have a door– just hanging beads– and walking through them without disturbing them a sillohuetted figure stepped in and began to approach her bed. She cried out ‘God save me!’ and the thing moaned and vanished.

Now recently. According to my grandmother things have been going on ever since, but she’d grown so used to them that she just didn’t care anymore. My father was a different story. Some of the things that he experienced during his month’s stay in the summer:

-While typing at the computer, his glass of water lifted up off of the desk at his side, floated across the keyboard above his hands, and set down on the other side.
-While reading in bed up in the attic, the latch to the door flipped open, the doorknob turned, and the door swung as far open as it could, with nobody there at all. (This happened all the time.).
-He woke in bed feeling an intense pressure, a weight on his chest– not chest pains, mind you, but as though there were physically a body laid over top of his own. He could see his breath before him, even though the thermometer had read 86 degrees outside– and started to feel a crushing sensation in his stomach. He recited a prayer, and suddenly the weight could be felt shifting off of him, and there was a pop in the screen of the window with a small spark, like static electricity hit it with great force.
-On several occaisions he’s seen a figure staring at him from the doorway in the mirror while brushing his teeth, only to turn around and see nothing there.
-One night he went into the kitchen to get a glass of water and saw the pale blue figure of my grandfather (he’d died earlier in the year in a drunk driving accident) working on the pipes under the sink. The next day the house was without water, and took a week to fix it all again (including having to replace the water heater not long after that.).
-Every single cat that has ever been taken to the house has always been constantly uneasy, hissing at seemingly nothing, fur bristling and backing into corners, running out of the room at random, etc. Yeah, fun times.
-Every single cat that has been -kept- at the house for long has dissapeared, presumably run off after escaping the damn place.

Now, earlier last year my father decided to return, as my grandmother’s health was again failing, and his brother had grown so eccentric and loopy that he couldn’t be relied upon to tend to her. Last April, he implored me to fly down for emergency family business for a week (which later turned out to be that he’d been preparing to marry some woman and wanted to see what I thought of her. However, this developed into numerous other things while I was there.).

Right from the getgo it was going to be fun time city for me, as on the very first evening I awoke at 3:20 AM or so, cold as shit even buried under comforters, to the sound of heavy footsteps thudding up and down the stairs quickly (the stairs to the attic were on the other side of the wall the head of my bed was against.) My grandmother, an old lady who can hardly walk on her own, was the only one in the house at the time.

–more–

One of the frequently recurring dreams I used to have;

I would suddenly snap into awareness on a bed in a small, sparsely furnished room. Everything seemed to be drabbed in gray, sort of a monochrome look to it, with grime formed on it all. I’d stand up, rubbing my eyes, then walk out the door and into a long narrow hallway filled with dozens of the same. Slowly, I’d make my way out down the end of the hallway and find myself on the deck of a cruise ship- everything was there still, but there wasn’t a person to be found, and everything looked like it had been left in a hurry- giving the sensation that I’d been forgotten on it for whatever reason. One of the visuals that always hangs with me is the horizon; it’s always a sort of endless, dull grey and black (the water being a translucent ebony.) and the sky just faintly glowing with sun through the clouds in the distance.

After a short while, I’d always head back into the ship to explore a bit. Every time I had the dream it varied just where I’d walk around, various rooms and service stations, et cetera- but I’d always end up at some big banquet dining area, which was littered with the remains of a party now vacant of people (though, strangely, there wasn’t any food anywhere whatsoever. Even with everything in a mess, the dishes were all clean and pristine- it really stood out in my mind.

Every time I had the dream I’d then make my way back into the kitchen because (oh, so very wonderful…) I began to hear some shaking, grinding, whining sound. It always compelled me to investigate. I’d push my way back through swinging doors, and wander along all of the stoves toward the back corner of the room, where a huge smoke vent was shaking and buckling, hanging from the ceiling. It filled me with such a terrible dread, yet I could never stop myself from leaning under it and looking up inside– and I would always see something that made my heart freeze up and sting, so mortified that I was ready to puke– and it always woke me up before I could see what it was.

–mores–

Anyways, the third night I was at the house that week, I dealt with something that I’m sure a lot of you can relate to out of sheer concept. Fairly simple, fairly straightforward– it was about 11 at night, and my father elected to order a pay-per-view movie to break some of the dullness of the place (he ended up choosing Fast and Furious. It was that or Bones, that zany snoop dogg movie, which he ended up ordering later in the week anyways. That act in and of itself was scarier then anything else. But again I digress.)

The freezer was kept in the ‘basement’, which was more of a crawlspace, and independent of the fridge upstairs. I had offered to conjure up milkshakes for my father and grandmother, as I’d a penchant for that sort of thing from time to time, so I trudged down the narrow stairwell and rounded the corner for the freezer.

This was neglecting to recall that there aren’t any lights in the ‘basement’ at all, half of it is bare earth and stone to begin with, and that the freezer was behind the stairs. No biggie, I can brave it out, so I feel my way over. Bare in mind, as you can reference from the photo of the stairwell in an earlier reply of mine, that the entirety of the light I have to work with is coming through the gaps of those stairs, which themselves are narrow, rickety, and godawful.

Opening the lid to the freezer halved the available light, but I still managed to make out the ice cream and such. When I pulled the container out though, I suddenly had a horrible sensation in my gut, and the hairs on the back of my neck were all standing up. Not about to fuck around, I slammed the freezer and quickly rounded to the stairs again. There was a fucking pair of eyes staring at me from the far wall behind where I’d stood.

I tore ass up those stairs and slammed the door shut so fast it dropped the mirror off the back of the door and tilted a picture frame. There was no way I would ever fucking go in the basement again.

–s’mores–

The dream begins in a very strange rather inexplicable situation where I’m faced with three men with guns– off to the side are several people I recognize as friends, though I don’t know any of the faces– just that feeling. At first it’s all sort of a blur, and something happens to distract the gunmen- I manage to overpower one and take his gun, and shoot all three of them before running outside of the rather bland warehouse-type area with the ‘friends’. We pile into an SUV outside the building, and begin to tear off down the road and into the night. It’s winter, and there’s damn near nobody around as we pass through town, with all the buildings and stores looted and abandoned, a few straggling people running about with weapons. One of the four with me suddenly jumps out of the vehicle without a word and runs off into an alley, but we keep driving anyways.

We end up at the edge of town at the entrance of some huge industrial complex, the sort that looks a lot like Dow Jones’ facilities. We pull up to the grimey building, and it’s snowing heavily at this point, and crash through the fence– somehow we’ve all got thick coats and goggles now, and forge our way inside.

Immediately indoors is a huge lift type deal that traverses a diagonal descent. We all get onto it, then start off down into the depths. After a good long while, it stops at the bottom, and we’re at the loading platform for some underground tram railway, a few dozen others are milling onto the train. There are some armed guards, and we hear something over an intercomm about time remaining but I don’t know for -what-.

Now the dream starts getting really surreal. As the tram is going deeper into the earth, I start to notice that a lot of the other passengers look quite sickly, eyes bulging, hair falling out, etc. I go to exit the car we’re in, and see through the glass what looks like a phone booth between them, and standing in it is a greasy-haired incredibly pale man in a ratty trenchcoat, staring with bulging eyes, slowly rocking forward and back, staring into the car. Suddenly his jaw drops open and he begins to puke up huge amounts of sickly yellow water– we’re talking absurd amounts, far too much to be in a human body. He continues to retch and heave, rapidly flooding the passage between cars.

At this point I turn to tell the ‘friends’ with me that this is all wrong, and find three of them dead, looking bloated and drowned, the rest of the passengers looking much the same– only one of them remains with me, now wearing a gas mask— they offer me one, but for some reason I turn it down. Glancing back to the puking man, he’s now floating in the liquid, quite thoroughly drowned– and then the tram stops, opening up. The last friend and I walk out and are greeted to the sight of tons of refugee looking sorts, but all of them appear rather well-to-do. There’s scientists walking hurriedly about, and a few dozen armed soldiers on watch. A man rushes up to us whom looks -exactly- like Jack Nicholson in the trailer to Anger Management when he’s laughing and nodding; he immediately hands me one of those thick screwdrivers with the hollow handle you can fill with bits, and asks me to solve it.

For some reason, I immediately go to work twisting, squeezing, and pressing numerous buttons on the thing, and it begins to unfold and adjust like something out of a hellraiser movie. An intercomm beeps overhead, and notes that there’s twenty minutes remaining until the world ends. By now the ‘puzzle’ thing is quite immense, and I’m sweating my ass off working through it, all the scientist sorts watching now. I get distracted for a moment, hearing the final friend yell for me not to do it, then they’re shot by the soldiers. I continue, and this goes on for the duration of the countdown. At the last minute, the whole puzzle contraption fades away, solved– and inside is a teal post-it note pad. Written on the pad in chickenscratch is simply the underlined word ‘Art’.

Then it all went to black and I woke up.

LordOfThePants

My older sister is big into Halloween and the like, she recently turned me on to Hans Holzer. He’s a “ghost hunter” and author of several books. His major thinking is that a tramatic death (ie: the fire that burned the original house down) will often cause the ghost of the dead person to remain behind. The ghost doesn’t know their dead though, and they have no concept of time passing.

I’ve read two of his books and will be picking up more. He usually takes a medium (psychic) with him to the house, then sends her off to an area where she can’t hear (in the cases where he hasn’t communicated with the owner and has little information himself) or allows the medium to slip into a trance (in the cases where he’s been in contact with the owners of the home and knows the background of the ghost).

The ghost then will “posess” the medium for a short time (this whole process I know little about, as he doesn’t explain it much in the books I read) and speak/act through that person. The voice usually changes (if the ghost is a man, it’s a deeper version of the mediums voice, etc) and Holzer asks the ghosts questions. He’ll get as much information as he can (stuff like military service, church membership, etc) then gradually let the ghost know that he is dead and he can move onto the other side. Most of the time, the ghost accepts that and moves out of the house.

Holzer then takes the information he recieved from the “interview” and researches the ghost’s past to verify the facts. Most of the time, he comes very close (records keeping can be pretty poor and that throws up a big roadblock).

The books are VERY interesting reading. He finds these houses by people contacting him through letters, but he doesn’t get out to them all. I’d guess he’s in his 70’s now at least, some of the stories are from the 50’s and 60’s. He lives in New York currently. I can’t find any sort of webpage of his, but there are several web pages with information about him.

Mayor Wilkins

I’ve lived in the same apartment complex for years. I moved out on my own two years ago and stayed in the same apartment complex; my mother and her husband moved to another apartment complex and it was easier for me to stay where I was. Nobody else would let me lease an apartment without a co-signer, and I didn’t want to do that. Plus I’m comfortable there. I’ve spent twelve years of my life there, and when I was younger…

There’s a little cemetery next to the playground. When the property was purchased from the former owners there was one stipulation – the cemetery had to be walled off and locked up. It couldn’t ever be touched. The wall, however, is very low. The gate had been removed long before I moved in there. So it’s open for anyone to walk on in there.

I quickly discovered the cemetery and found it fascinating. I was twelve and this was so fucking cool – a cemetery where I lived! The headstones were dated back to the late 1800’s, and none of the people buried there died after 1920. There were five in all, five headstones, five graves. And one little headstone by the tree, the tree that didn’t seem to grow quite right. One small, unmarked headstone, much smaller than the rest. I didn’t have to ask anyone about it – I just knew. I knew it was the gravestone of a small child, probably an infant.

I was always very comfortable there, and I would frequently find myself reading there in the afternoon. I’d sit up against the wall, in the corner, and read. It was so peaceful there, so quiet. But that wasn’t all – I somehow felt like I was <i>welcome</i> there, like I was being watched…but not in an eerie way. I still don’t know how to describe the way it felt, how to describe what brought me back there. People would throw trash in and I’d clean it up every few days, taking out the cans and candy wrappers and throwing them away. I kept the area as clean as possible. I felt comfortable there and I thought that the dead deserved more respect than what the litterbugs were giving them.

Eventually I got older and drifted away from the cemetery. I played with others, I found computers, I made more friends. I rarely found myself dropping by the cemetery, but when I did I’d always clean it up and linger a bit. I’d clear the dirt away from the headstones, pull up any stray weeds that surrounded them. I still felt like I was welcome there for some reason, like I was still being watched. I felt vaguely guilty for not visiting more often, but why? They weren’t my family. Why should I care?

Eventually they installed a gate. I could still climb over the wall but I was too lazy to. I stopped going altogether and almost forgot about it.

Less than a year ago a friend was over at my apartment, telling me about the ghosts in her house. I told her about the cemetery and about things that had happened recently that made me think about it all over again. I’d seen someone crossing the road in front of the cemetery, but when I got there just seconds later he was gone. There was nowhere he could have gone in such a short time. I also saw a bright white light drift out of the cemetery, drift slowly across the street, and disappear as it hit the stairs. As I told her this, as I told her about my childhood experiences, she wanted to see it.

So we went. We scaled the low wall and I showed her the headstones. I took a flashlight so that she could read them. But she didn’t want to read them…the second she set foot in the cemetery she wanted to leave. Immediately.

“They don’t want me here,” she said, her voice slightly afraid. “They don’t know me, and they don’t like me. They want me to leave.”

She started to climb the wall, then paused. “I hear a child laughing,” she said.

I hadn’t told her about the unmarked headstone. She hadn’t seen it. I hadn’t shown it to her, and she hadn’t gone to the other side of the tree. Even in the dark she might not have seen it if she HAD gone to the other side of the tree.

We went back over the wall and she immediately headed for my apartment. I paused, though, and looked back into the darkness. “She’s my friend,” I whispered, “and I wish you’d make her feel as welcome as you’ve made me feel.” Then I caught up with her and we made our way back to the apartment.

She refused to go back on subsequent visits; the feeling that she’d been unwelcome was too strong for her, and she didn’t want to relive that experience. I finally convinced her to go back over one night without actually scaling the wall. She hesitantly followed me over there. We looked over the wall in silence. Finally she spoke.

“I don’t get that same feeling anymore,” she said. “I feel comfortable this time, like…like I’m welcome. Like you feel.”

I asked her if she still heard a child. She considered it for a minute and then shook her head. “No, but I definitely feel that a child is here.” I took her around to the gate and shined the flashlight on the child’s headstone. She nodded. “That makes a lot of sense, now.” We stood there in the darkness for another minute, just watching the darkness. Then we left.

I haven’t been back since. Maybe I should…

–more–

In my dream I was driving through some sort of woods-filled area. It was a gray, overcast day, and the air was chilly. I was driving with my window down as I frequently do. The trees were dreary-looking and there was a light fog in…well, have you seen Sleepy Hollow? The one starring Christina Ricci’s lovely breasts? The woods were sort of like this.

Anyway, I’m driving along when I get to a tunnel. There’s a girl running toward me, coming out of the tunnel. She looks absolutely horrified and out of breath. She lunges at my window and screams “HELP ME! OH GOD, HELP ME! THEY’RE GOING TO GET US! THEY’RE AFTER US BOTH!” I unlock the passenger’s door and tell her to get the hell in.

She does and promptly locks the door, advising me to roll up my window and lock my door. I do both and then look her over. She’s mildly goth in appearance; she’s not wearing goth makeup but she’s wearing a black corset, black stockings, black boots, a black skirt, and her skin is pale. She has long black hair. She’s pretty damned cute…although she looks like she’s seen a ghost. I ask her what the hell is going on. She points down the tunnel and says “there.”

I look down the tunnel and see a few dozen people lurching toward me.

The tunnel is well lit enough that I can see them somewhat. I can tell that they’re not alive; they’re quite obviously zombies, and they’re moving very fucking slowly. The ones in the front are, anyway. Some of the people in the back…nah, I’m imagining them. I assess the situation and tell my passenger to buckle up.

“I’m Nick,” I say. She tells me her name. I think it was Robin. “Put on your seatbelt,” I tell her. She does. Mine’s already on.

I floor it.

I plow through the zombies very, very easily. But as I get through the mass of undead I see that yes, there are people who are different. The people in the rear are alive, and they have weapons of some sort. They’re obviously herding and controlling the zombies, and now they’re turning their attention toward me. More specifically they’re turning their attention toward my car.

I kept the pedal to the floor, but cars can’t outrun bullets. One shattered my rear windshield. Others found various parts of the car. My passenger was screaming and crying and praying to God to help us. Finally a bullet took out a tire. I took it as far as I could, but I finally ran off the road and into a ditch. The zombies and their keepers were nowhere to be seen.

We got out of the car. “We have to run,” I said. The girl nodded, and into the woods we went. We ran for quite a few minutes, running until I couldn’t run anymore. We came to a fence; we crawled underneath it and slid down an embankment that was covered in leaves. We hit the bottom and stopped to catch our breath. We couldn’t hear anyone trying to catch up with us. Finally she spoke.

“They’re going to kill us,” she said with somber certainty. “They killed my friend, and they’re going to kill us, too. This is our last chance.”

And she kissed me. We had semi-clothed sex on that embankment, the breeze scattering leaves all around us. When we were done we quickly got dressed and started moving again. We heard a gunshot in the distance, then screaming, then more gunshots. They were getting closer.

“I know a place we can hide,” she said. We were getting too tired to run, and we knew that we couldn’t run forever.

So we made our way to an abandoned house. It was a mansion, really, right in the middle of the woods. It looked like an old, abandoned plantation house. There was old furniture with dust covers, old chandeliers with cobwebs hanging off of them. There was dust everywhere. We closed the front door and were careful not to disturb anything. I considered blocking the entrance with furniture, but I realized that there were many, many entrances in this house. Besides, they’d know we were in there.

We holed up in a room on the first floor. We wanted to have an escape route in case they did find the house. We holed up and we waited.

We didn’t have to wait long. Voices were audible in the distance, and they only grew closer. They were laughing, having a great time. They got closer and closer to the house…and then the front door opened.

The humans stayed outside while the zombies came in. We could hear them moaning, groaning, shambling about the house. They were looking for us. They knew we were there, and they wanted us. One of them shuffled outside the door, then stopped. It tested the locked door. It groaned, a horrible, unearthly sound followed by an inhuman scream. By the sounds outside the door it was obvious that more zombies were joining it. The girl was in tears, her face buried in my neck. She whispered in my ear.

“They want us,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “They can smell us.” The door shook on its hinges, the groans outside growing louder. Finally the old door shattered as countless undead fists pounded it into a pulp…

…and I woke up.

soultaker

It starts out and I’m 8 years old standing on a large open lawn. It’s early summer and the sky is turning red the way it does when the sun is just starting to set. I look around and notice that there are row after row of white chairs set up on the lawn and a large stage at one end. I realize that I am at a graduation ceremony. Even though I’m only 8 this makes sense. The ceremony has apparently just ended and everyone is leaving. There are only a few people left when I spot my best friend standing near the stage. Only it’s not my best friend. It looks like my best friend but somehow I know it’s my brother. And I know that after this graduation I’ll never see him again. So I run over to him and hug him as tight as can screaming that I don’t want him to go. He smiles and tells me not to cry, that it’s getting dark but we have time to play one more game of hide-and-seek before he has to leave. I woke up crying like a baby and am crying now just typing this.

El_Stapler

I have fucked-up dreams, but they aren’t menacing or eerie like I think you’re looking for. They’re just, well, they’re fucked up. But I’ll post them anyway.

In one dream, I dreamt that a evil farmer guy from Florida was trying to take over the world by planting some evil crop all throughout the Southeast. No, I don’t know how it would make him take over the world, but it made sense at the time. Anyway, so there’s this little independent farmer guy who wants to stop the Evil Dude, and so he starts cutting down all of this dude’s crops plant by plant, walking from wherever he was down to Florida. He’s aided by a Mysterious Stranger — I say this because some of the time it was the Predator, with his armblades, cloak, and plasma caster, and sometimes it was Roland from the Dark Tower books. No, they were not two seperate people, just sometimes he was the Predator and sometimes he was Roland.

So anyway the farmer dude vanishes and Roland/Predator hides in the Bad Dude’s crops and kills about a jillion guards and farm workers, by either blowing them up or shooting them once and causing them to perform the “Arm, chunk of torso, and head shot off” death animation from Fallout. I think the Bad Dude might have died too, but I don’t remember.

In a dream the very next night, I dreamt that Roland (again), Susannah, Eddie, and Jake were walkin’ down the path of the Beam, only the Beam led through a massive Half-Price Books store, so they were just ambling past all the racks of books like they were walking through the wilderness. Eddie was getting bored and pulling technothrillers off of the sales racks to amuse himself, the titles of which all began with “A”. Eddie was reading “Airframe” when Roland realized he had a brother and he needed to look for him. So Roland goes off to look for him, while he’s still in the Half-Price Books (and I don’t know how he does this), and eventually finds him in Greece, on an island, near the Acropolis. Roland’s brother works at a Foot Locker, or maybe it was a Speice, and the entire island is a giant shopping mall. Roland’s brother, or maybe it was Roland himself, mentions something about the mall workers rebelling against the owners, so Roland decides to leave and go back to the World’s Longest Bookstore. Then I woke up, I don’t even think Eddie got to finish Airframe.

TheAgent

When I was thirteen, I was talking a shower. While rubbing soap over my flabby body (not going to turn into erotic fiction, trust me), I heard something from the hallway (I always kept the bathroom door open a peck to keep the steam out). Thinking it was one of my cats, I finished up, dried off and began brushing my teeth.

Then I see a shadow on the wall. It looks tall, and I automatically assume it’s that of my father. I call out his name, and the shadow just remains there. To give you an idea of this hallway, here’s a nice little picture:

|-------------------|

So I’m figuring someone has to be standing in the other hallway, casting the shadow up on the wall. But then I realize that there isn’t any part of the shadow on the ground. When I say “Hello?” the fucking thing’s head turns to look at me and starts walking towards me, moving against the wall, across pictures and the like with nothing else in the hallway. I shouted “Oh shit!” and the thing just vanished.

That’s why I started cursing, I think.

Astroman

Well, I’ve got my share of creepy feelings, living in a hundred year old house…my family has owned it for the last 80 years. A couplea people have died in my bedroom! But I’ve never seen anything…most of my feelings I can chalk off to sleep paralysis.

I have had some wierd dreams though, about the house. Once I dreamed that I went downstairs into the basement, and it was a huge cave, leading into some old storage areas, that were almost totally dark and filled with old furniture. Oh, and evil. Lots of evil.

Another is that if I go upstairs (it’s 2 story), there’s a door leading to a 2nd story outdoor area…like a huge courtyard on the roof (not actually there IRL), with some weeds kinda overgrown. It’s very realistic and actually kinda cool…I wish it WAS there. There are rooms along the side walls…one is a beautifully furnished expensive bedroom, all in white…but creepy. I don’t like to go in there. Then there are stairs on the outside to a third story, and on that is a door, leading to another story. This is where it gets bad.

I open the door, and there is a plain staircase, walls painted white, clean, not bright but not poorly lit. I cannot go up the staircase. If I do, I get to the landing, where it goes around. I know at the top is a door. But I can’t open it, and usually I can’t even go too far up, sometimes I can’t even go in. I get this horrible creepy feeling…I get it now just thinking about it. A feeling of undescribable terror…of what is on the other side of the door. Must be an Old One or something.

Pagan McNasty

I know my contribution will be thin, but I remember an instance a few years ago, back when I was still living with my mother, probably my senior year of high school. It was winter, the middle of the night. For one reason or another, I woke up, as I’m sure all of us do from time to time.

So I open my eyes to galnce over at my clock to see what time it was, and there, right in front of me is a blurry figure, just standing over my bed. Extremely vivid.

In my fucked up, half-asleep state, I wasn’t thinking properly and started to swing at it, attempting to shoe it away. My hand passed right through it, so I closed my eyes to go back to sleep.

I can’t prove it, and I may not be able convince anyone, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was awake. There was no way I dreamt it.

I guess this all takes an eerie turn when I mention that the lady that owned the house before my mom used to call my then bedroom her own. She died exaclty where I had slept all those years.

Aerolith

When I was little my family used to live in a mid-sized suburban frame house with 2 dormers on the front of the roof.

My dad being the industrious person he is built a ‘loft’ bed for me inside the dormer. All of my friends thought it was really cool, but I started having doubts after my mom replaced the really heavy shade over the window in the dormer with a lighter blue thing that matched the sheets.

It was light enough that i could now see shadows through the curtain–especially at night… now some of this i might write off as small child being afraid of the dark, but I distinctly remember seeing this HORRIFIC face being formed by tree branches… the really weird part was that it was a windy night, and all of the branches were in constant motion, yet the pattern making the face wasn’t changing at all.

That kept up for several nights in a row, finally I got scared enough that I threw a bigass block of wood at the window and wound up breaking it… got in huge amounts of trouble for that one.

Bunnita

I was living alone in a condo in Utah. My dogs were barely three months old and would bark at anything that moved (this is important). Because they were young I had a gate up a little outside of my bedroom door so they couldn’t wander around the house at night. Living alone I slept with the bedroom door open, and my bed was facing the open door.

I opened my eyes and saw a man standing above me reaching down at me. I sat up and didn’t quite scream. The only reason I didn’t is that there were my puppies lying at my feet looking mildly startled that I had moved so quickly but not reacting to anything else.

Scared the hell out of me though, I got up and made sure everything was locked.

Parlett316

Two weird dream I had.

About seven years ago during Christmas, I had a dream where I walked downstairs to the kitchen and saw my dad crying. I asked him what was wrong and he said that he told me there was not going to be a Christmas this year becase he lost his job and that he was going to kill himself. I talked my dad out of it and told him that i’d rather have my dad than have a Christmas. He then got happy and left looking for a job. I then got the Green Lantern ring and went on an adventure that doesn’t matter in this thread.

Why this dream was weird: I woke up after that dream and thought, “Wow, what an odd dream, until I got home one night and saw my dad crying at the kitchen table about there not being a Christmas…

Second dream.

All I remember in this dream was that I was at a funeral for a co-worker and for some odd reason my relatives were there. So i’m sitting around being all sad and I notice that on the left side fo the room there were a bunch of chairs sitted next to the wall. My dad, uncle sam and my brother were all sitting there with an empty chair next to my brother.

After scanning that side of the room I look straight forward to see the rest of the room. And then I notice something extremely odd just happened. The chair next to my brother that was empty was suddenly occupied….by my recently deceased Grandfather. I drop my jaw and look over at him as my dad jumped up and yelled, “Daddy!” My Grandfather then picked up my little brother and put him on his lap and rocked back and forth.

As I look at my Grandfather (who looked 20 years younger and the best I had ever seen) he said that he was happy in his new home and that even though he didn’t read the good book when he was alive he wanted all of us too.

Then he was gone.

Happy birthday Pop

666

When i was about 12, in the last year of elementary school or however you americans call it, i was on vacation with my parents in Wales. I dont recall the name of the village, but it was a miner’s village. A bunch of small, black houses in the middle of a valley, surrounded by high black hills of slate and a never fading, thick coastal mist. Apart from ugly brownish grass and sheep, there wasn’t much flora or fauna, and right outside of town, next to a river, there was a large 60ies era nuclear reactor, abandoned and no longer functional. When the reactor had come, the people in the village had stopped mining for coal and instead started to work in the reactor, but the mines were still everywhere and the attitude of this small bunch of people (2000 i guess) was still that of miners. I cant blame them, even on the brightest day, between those black mountains it felt as if you were hundreds of metres down the earth, the slate seemed to absorb all light.

We were staying in a little cottage, ran by an elderly woman and her husband. The husband was nearly allways away during the day, and the woman would do little chores around the house. Now this house was a peculiar place, because amidst its bleak surroundings, the house was like a little model house. Everything painted in pastels, with lace and crepe curtains, little porcelain dolls and such in the windows, the entire house seemed as if made out of pink and white candy. When inside, you automatically whispered and moved softly, as if afraid that the very house itself would shatter at the sound of a cough. The contrast with the outside world made for an eerie sensation.
One particularily rainy afternoon we were sitting in the living room, drinking tea and conversing with the lady. Mostly about the region, about the village, and all the other things tourists ask locals. It was then that my father brought up, innocently, the beautifully framed, vintagesque pictures of the little girl that were in nearly every room.

A wide smile with sad corners appeared in the lady’s face as she told us about their daughter who died at ten years of age from a then unknown disease that took the lives of alot of villagers. Back then the people called it the curse of their village, but i have a hunch now that modern medicine would call it cancer. The air must have been nearly black with the debris of the mines floating around. My parents, ofcourse, felt awkward bringing it up, but the woman seemed eager to tell us about the girl, how she lit up the little house amidst the darkness outside. She told us how she tried to preserve that light in the house, and now it started to become clear what the house resembled: a child’s room. A little dollhouse full of small furniture and tiny tea cups.

Ofcourse, i was twelve, and bored as fuck. I was told it was okay to walk around the house and so i did. Softly i strolled around the hallways and rooms, often taking a look outside at the sheep that drifted through the mist like compacted little clouds. Here, warm inside, with the outside world seeming a big cloud, it was immensely peaceful and quiet and i wasn’t thinking of anything particular. At the end of the main hall was a flight of stairs towards a shorter hall, which had two doors. One of them, open, revealed a washing room, it’s inside draped with white sheets and clothing hanging to dry. The other door was also open, and the room inside seemed empty from this angle. As i walked towards it, a shadow passed behind the doorway, breaking up the beam of light that exited the door from what would probably be a window directly opposite of it. Not startled in the least i walked through the door to say hi to the lady’s husband, who would probably be up to something trivial inside.

Instead, the room was entirely empty. There was literally nothing in it. Even the carpet was taken out, and the unpainted wooden floor creaked under my steps as i walked to the window to see what cause the moving shadow. Probably a bird, or perhaps a flying sheep, i thought to myself. With that reactor outside you never know what those animals could turn into.
It was only after looking through the window that another shadow catched my eye.

On the left of me, against the wall, was a shadow, shaped like a person. The room was as empty as could be, but there was unmistakably a person’s shadow on the wall. About as high as me, and originating from a point between me and the wall, the shadow shrunk, seeming to kneel down, and moved it’s arms in short, slow motions. Now i started to feel odd. Really odd. In most ghost stories, people would mention seeing their breath, feeling a cold chill, feeling a presence, but i felt nothing. The room seemed more empty than before, if possible, as if the shadow was a reflection, a visual representation of the void of this room. It stood up again, grew, and moved to my left, where it sat down again and moved it’s arms and head. I looked outside the window, half expecting to see the origin of this shadow, even though it clearly originated on the floor just a metre before the wall.
As i shifted on my feet, the floor creaked again, and it was as if the shadow froze for a second, and then changed the angle of it’s head. Towards me. This is when i ran.

I didn’t tell my parents about it. I felt they wouldn’t believe me and that when discussed it might upset the lady. I didnt go upstairs again, we wouldnt stay long anyway because the weather was so bad. I did sleep in my parents room, claiming that the sheep kept me from my sleep at night. Back then i just was scared of a freaky shadow, perhaps an odd effect of the light, interpreted and extrapolated by an overactive puerile mind, but the more i think of it since i was remembered of it, the more i am convinced i saw the shadow of a child, playing on her bedroom floor.

Goose42

The story takes place in Ohio:

My friend is at a party, and it gets late. He decides not to drive home, because of the drinky drinky that’s been going on, so he now has to hoof it. His home isn’t far, maybe 2 miles tops, so it shouldn’t take more than a half hour, 45 minutes at the most.

Unfortunately, the trip does involve walking through a glade of woods, as the party house was on the edge of some woods. It’s dark, and even though there’s a trail, it’s not easy going. Anyway, he begins the trek, and plunges into the woods.

He’s walkin for about 10 minutes at this point, when he sees a fire off in the distance, off the path, and thinking he might be able to stop a forest fire and be considered a hero (he’s drunk for christ’s sake!) he goes to investigate.

This was probably the biggest mistake of the evening.

He eventually comes to a clearing where the fire is…of course he didn’t count on the several black robed figures that would be around the fire, performing whatever ritual. He comes bounding through the woods and runs smack dab into this bizarre scene. Well, both parties are startled, but the black robed party is the first to gather itself.

One of the black hooded gentleman, presumably the leader, pulls out a rather long, curved knife from somewhere in his robes, and says,

“You have disrupted our ceremony.”

My friend decided that instead of apologizing and slowly backing away, he should run.

This was probably the best decision of the evening.

He starts out running to where he thought was the path, but by now he was a bit disoriented, so he either missed it, or just never got to it, He could hear the voices of all the robed figures, coming from many different directions, and so after running for a good while now, probably in circles, he was getting tired. He could still hear the voices, sometimes close, sometimes far away, saying things like, “We’re going to cut you open. You’re dead. We will kill you.”

My friend, now pretty much out of breath and exhausted (alcohol + no exercise = out of shape slob) makes a fateful decision – he climbs under a fallen tree and decides to just wait out the hooded figures.

He heard them sometimes VERY close by still searching for him, for about an hour or so, but didn’t dare move. Even after he couldn’t hear them, he waited until day break before he thought it was safe to get the flock out of there.

Facing something like that terror, I have no idea what I would do…this was when my friend was in high school, and I’m not sure if I were that age if I would have the pateience and chutzpah to “wait it out” crouched underneath a log.

thatsdumb youredumb

Living in an old house I never had any ghost stories or anything. My sister always thought she would hear people coming in the basement door when she was upstairs, but that never came to fruition. My parents got a big dog and new locks, end of story.

So anyways, some friends and I are chillin’ drinkin’ beers at my house watching basketball on the bigscreen TV with my parents on vacation. I live out in the country, a few houses around, but my house is surrounded by 100ft tall White Pines. And so, it gets pretty dark at night, and never too bright during the day.

So it’s about midnight and raining outside and just pitch black. We hear banging around noises in the basement every so often, and just like creaking noises that I was more or less used to. Investigating, we of course find nothing.

East Immanuel is a famous church like two miles from my house and everyone thinks it haunted. It was in a book called Haunted Heartland that came out in the 70’s or so.

In other words, I have no good ghost stories but still felt the need to contribute to this awesome thread.

When I was like five or six and staying at my cousin’s house, I had a dream that we had been kidnapped by some guys in a big black limousine. They pulled up to dark swimming pool and hottub, except the hottub had alligators in it. Opening the back door where we were, the guy points to the hottub and says “In there, or back in there…” and points to a big cage. My cousin, of course, is already running for the hottub, and I wake up

El Scandelouse

When I was smaller I would have this reoccuring nightmare. Anyone remember that Biker Mouse from Mars cartoon/actionfigures thing? Well I had a figure of the mad scientist and his little mongrel man thing with the brain that pops out. Anyways, I slept with it at the head of my bed one night.

My dream consisted of me coming home to my room and it being pitch black dark. I try to flip on the light switch but nothing happens. My closet door begins to open and something starts to emerge. At this point im so scared I can’t move or scream so I stand there in fear. The creature is like a half goat half gigantic clown face with a long sawblade like nose. It walked on two legs, it’s arms were long and ended with a fishhook like appendage. I couldn’t do anything so the hellish creature would drag me into the closet. Inside the closet was a nightmare world, it’s hard to describe. Imagine the underground dwarf caves in FOTR with all the steps, except they go on forever. Under the endless miles of stairs is an abyss of fire. The only thing I could hear was the screaming of men and women being burned alive. After surveying the area I noticed the creature that brought me to the hell world chasing after people on the stairs and using the hook hands to toss them off into the fire. After running and running and running it finally cought me and I was flung off. I awoke before I hit the flames.

Every time I would sleep with that figurine at the head of my bed, that nightmare would happen. Eventually, the dreams convinced me that the little thing was possessed by the devil. I took it outside and smashed it with a hammer and buried it. I havn’t had that nightmare again.

Another nightmare I had that was burned into my head involved the Japanese and nuclear holocaust. The United States was invaded by the Japanese and nuclear war broke out. The Americans were being beaten badly and only a small group of resistance fighters were left. New York was a wasteland, but hadn’t been touched by the nuclear destruction somehow. The group of fighters (including me) were holed up in the Empire State Building. We hid in the basement until the Japanese sent patrols down. After a firefight me and my friend Justin were the only two American soliders left. Deciding it was a bad idea to stay down in the basement he coaxed me to go to a higher floor. Half of the building was demolished so our progress up was halted. At the highest part we met two girls and ended up having sex with them (what the fuck!?). When the sex was over I looked out of the window. A fleet of Japanese bombers came flying over the city. They all dropped nuclear weapons. I saw a mushroom cloud rise then woke up.

Bebeto

I the scariest thing that ever happened to me (other than being an idiot and reading these threads) was when I went to a friends.

He had told me numerous times that his house was haunted but I never believed him, or not much at least. He wasn’t what you would call a best friend or anything but more of an acquantaince (I killed the spelling of that word). We were walking into his room downstairs, it was night and as such pitch black. As soon as we turned on the light ALL of his cloth hangers started coming off of the hanger one by one.

I ran and ran and never returned. He told me that that sometimes happens. I told him sometimes THAT DOESN’T FUCKING HAPPEN NORMALLY.

Mizkif

Anyway, I used to live in northern Kentucky, about 10 minutes away from Cincinnati, south of the Ohio River. Kentucky is some indian language for “bloody ground”, you may remember from school. There was some old old pre-Civil War tobacco plantation where my old house is (tobacco is still grown in large amounts in Kentucky) with lots of black slaves. Somewhere in my neighborhood was a makeshift graveyard for the slaves.

Now, I never believed in ghosts. I still don’t. My parents and my big brother, though, have all told me of strange things they’ve seen. Out of the corner of your eye they would feel the presence of someone standing there watching them, and when they would turn to look it would disappear. A few little quirky things, such as items moving when you weren’t looking, also happened.

The thing that spooked the hell out of me though was the time when I was in a deep, dreamless sleep. Suddenly I began to wake up, but with my eyes still closed. I was waking up because the air I was breathing was suddenly very dry and… stale, I guess. My chest felt heavy. I opened my eyes, and there was a dark figure standing, no, levitating, directly over me, her eyes obscured by shadow. Judging by the shadow I think she was black. She was wearing a white gown. I blinked again. She was still there. And then she reached out at me.

I squirmed away toward the wall as fast as I could and sat up against the bedpost and made a sudden movement to push her off me while screaming, “What the fuck are you doing?!” I desperately swung at her, and then realized she was gone.

To this day, this confuses the fuck out of me. I’m atheist, I’m very non-spiritual, I don’t believe in ghosts or anything like that, but I can’t understand what the hell happened that night.

Sometimes I would be sleeping in my bed and hear people angrily whispering in my ear things I don’t remember and I’d wake up and there would be nothing there. Other times it would be a calm voice, saying things like “he was shot to death”. I think this though is just a result of too many action movies and insomnia, but whatever.

–more–

I was walking in a hotel. Well, it wasn’t just a hotel. It was a skyscraper, but also a theme park / hotel. The first 70 or so floors were theme park, and above that was dining halls, and then above that was hotel.

I entered on the first floor. The name of this theme park was “Wonder World” or something like that. There were crazy drawings all over the walls and there were no rides. I looked at all the tourists, and they were all walking around like zombies staring at the walls and smiling, without saying anything to anybody. They just milled around smiling and looking at the drawings. I was like “well this is boring” so I got in the elevator and started looking at all the other floors. Same thing.

After a while I got hungry so I went to floor 71, the kitchen floor. The kitchens were empty. I saw a knife lying on a table so I picked it up. It was covered in blood.

I took the elevator up to the 72nd floor. As soon as I stepped out, I noticed that it was a giant banquet hall. There had been a party there, but like Gaist said in his all the plates were clean, yet there was a mess. Tables overturned, chandelier lying on the floor broken. There was also blood in some places.

I walked around, and noticed that the walls in one part had been destroyed. I walked over and realized have of that side of the building had been taken out, and I could peer down into the city streets below from between cracked walls.

I started walking back to the elevator when I saw someone. It was a lady dressed as a french maid, with her back towards me. Then I noticed she was with others dressed the same. They were all talking a bizarre language leaning over something. I walked towards them and then when they heard me they stopped doing whatever they were doing. They turned and faced me, and that was when I realized that they were all covered in blood. They all had it on their clothes, but most noticabley it was dripping from their mouths. Fucking cannibals.

I ran back into the elevator and hit the close door button, but it wouldn’t close at first, and they chased me. A couple of them managed to get inside before they closed and they were biting me and I stabbed them both to death with the knife I had.

Then I took the elevator somewhere else and I don’t remember the rest of the dream. The only thing I do remember though was an explanation to why everyone was all zombie-like on the theme park floors. There was a gas being pumped into those rooms that made them all high like that. People were getting drugged to come to this place.

Fucking makes no sense. Hippie theme park and cannibal french maids.

Billiam

One dream involved me being drug out of my home in the mid-afternoon by police officers. I looked out, and saw a sea of cop cruisers parked in my driveway. Confused as to what was happening, I followed the police officers out into my back yard.

I saw teams of policemen, pawing through the trees in the backyard, ripping apart my compost pile, in short, combing my parents’ entire backyard for something.

I heard a noise from the house behind me, I turned to see a detective approaching me with a lock of black hair in a baggie. The hair was tied together with a rubber band, the detective was demanding to know if this looked familiar to me. At this moment, there was a lot of commotion going on near an old sewer drain next to my driveway.

The cops were bustling around the drain, frantically telling others to find some rope. I stared as one of the police officers turned to me, his face a mixture of hate, fear, and nausea.

After some time, they pried the grating off the sewer drain. Many of the officers turned their heads away from the sight in the sewer as I approached. They began hoisting something heavy from the sewer using rope. A large, oblong bundle, rolled up in a blue tarp was produced from the drain. Even in my dream, I can remember the horrid stink that came with it. Bits of black hair clung to the sides of the tarp, these the officers collected with a pair of tweezers as someone volunteered to unroll it.

My dream cuts out with them unrolling the tarp, the smell getting more vile as they went. The last immage i remember from it is seeing a shower of black hair fall out of one end, while a small girl’s stockinged leg was exposed at the other.

–more–

I had a nightmare once that began with me sitting on the computer, browsing the internet, as I usually do late into the night.

I noticed that something didn’t look “right” in my room, something with the lighting. Then i noticed that there was a large standing shadow in the corner which, considering the moonlight was shining in the window across from it, shouldn’t have been there. I blinked my eyes a couple times, to clear my vision in case my contacts were fucking with me. I looked back, and the shadow was still standing there, directly across from me, in the corner.

I stared at it for quite some time, unsure how to handle this. It just stood there, defying the natural world by being partly in a patch of moonlight.

I looked back over to my monitor and noticed this message written in all caps:

“CAN YOU MAKE IT TO THE LIGHTSWITCH BEFORE I GRAB YOU?”

That’s where the dream cuts out.

Jew-Jitsu

One night, a few friends and I were driving home from Abbotsford, which is just across the river from where I live. I was the designated driver, and my friends were all kinda drunk except for the dude in the passenger seat, who is a straightedge friend we had picked up one our way home.

(edit – the drunk/straight is to let you know the state of mind we were in a the time. 2 drunk/2 straight, all confirmed stories)

It’s about 2:30am, and we all want to get to our beds, or at least home to hit some video games, and then we drive up to the Mission Bridge that goes from the industrial park, over the train tracks, and to Main Street, when we see something that would change us forever.

There’s been a car accident. Right at the foot of the bridge, on the industrial park side. It’s bad, too. It looks like the driver might have fallen asleep at the wheel, and collided head on with one of the light fixtures adjoining the bridge at its’ base. Car is demolished.

We slow down, and there’s no sign of anyone around, like it JUST happened and the cops haven’t gotten there yet.

Then, fucking insanity.

Under the bridge, we see a dude walking around, clutching his arm to his chest yelling something. He looks like a hobo, but then we realize he was the driver of the car.

And he’s bleeding, heavily.

Why didn’t we stop?

Behind him a few feet is a very, VERY large animal. Almost the size of a small pony, but the shape of a dog. All black. No details, at all.

As we pass right in front of them, the car headlights flash over the thing.

And it’s carrying his fucking hand in its’ mouth.

We floor it, and never look back. The last thing we saw was this huge, black animal with a hand in its’ mouth, staring straight into the car, and the guy screaming bloody murder.

–more–

Another one, not quite a ghost story, again, but you know, this kind of thing does happen.

I was sitting at home one night, by myself. I was probably about 17 at the time, and my parents had gone to Disneyland with my brothers, so I was alone for about 2 weeks. Good couple weeks, mind you, except for this one thing that’s stuck with me ever since…

It’s late. About midnite. I live right next to a baseball park, in the quiet, outer edge of our town. It’s the end of summer, and a really warm night. I’m playing some video games in the basement, where it’s alot cooler. The usual sounds, crickets chirping, dogs barking across the park, etc… After a couple hours of relaxing, I get up to get a drink.

I go upstairs, and there’s no lights on. The light in our driveway isn’t on either, which is strange, because it’s a city-sanctioned light, and rarely goes off at night unless there’s something wrong with the power in the area. I don’t really think anything of it, and go to flip on the light. Nothing happens.

There must be some kind of a power outage; but there can’t be, because I’m playing video games downstairs.

I’m a little puzzled right now, so I’m thinking it’s just a dead bulb. I go to flip on the light above the sink.

Nothing.

I flip on the stove light. Nothing.

I open the fridge, no light.

Nothing.

I’m standing in absolute blackness, but when I look down the stairs, the light is on, the television is on.

Upstairs, nothing. No sound, either. No dogs, no crickets, no nothing. The moon is not out.

I’m kind of freaked out, so I pour a glass of juice really quick, just so I can go back downstairs. As I close the fridge, I look outside once more to see if the light has maybe come back on.

It hasn’t, but there is something out there now.

I live back from the road that goes past my house, and the driveway is about 200 feet long, and is flanked by trees the whole way. A canopy that keeps out the light, already, and with no lights or moon out, it’s like liquid shadow in there.

And someone is coming through it now.

There’s a man, and he’s walking straight down the middle of the driveway. All I can see is almost violet around him, like a glow, but it’s not anything like a glow. It’s more like a black light sloughing off of him.

At this point, I’m flipping the fuck out. Nothing is right about this, and I am completely alone. I stare at the driveway, and realize, right then, that the downstairs door may not be locked.

I drop my juice in the sink and tear downstairs. It is dead silent now.

I smash the doorknob into itself, locking it. Through the gauzy curtains, I don’t see anything. I push the corner of one of the curtains aside, and look outside.

Walking steadily towards the downstairs door is the figure. It’s all black outside, and he’s still moving as though he’s dripping smoke. He’s also moving right towards the door.

I rip back into the playroom where the video games are, and turn the tv off.

The doorknob rattles.

At this point, I’m almost pissing myself. The door is tried again, really lightly this time, and then stops. I’m tearing through the doors to my house in my head now, and I know the upstairs door is locked, and has a deadbolt, so I think about ground level windows. The bathroom.

Run into the bathroom, slam it shut. There’s a flash of movement outside it right as a slam it, and I see something right as it’s slamming shut. A hand is shooting straight towards the window, and as I slam it, nothing.

Not a sound at all.

And that was it. For the rest of the night, I sat awake, checking and doublechecking entries to the house, but there was nothing else.

Just the quiet doorknob rattle, and the streak at the window.

Freeloader

I was having trouble getting to sleep. Mostly just laying in bed, tossing and turning a little bit, trying to sleep. I close my eyes once, and I must have fallen asleep, although it basically felt like closing my eyes and falling half-asleep for a few minutes, and then waking back up. Because in my dream, EVERYTHING was exactly the same. My room was the same, I was still in my bed, it even FELT like I was in my bad. The only difference, is that instead of the night making everything look blue in the dark, everything was dark grey. So everything was exactly the same (except for the blue/grey thing, which I didn’t notice in the dream itself), and in my dream I’m wishing I could get to sleep. And I go to move, but I can’t. All I thought was, “Man, I’m really tired. I must have been laying on my arm or something.”

So I try to move again. Wait a minute. I fucking can’t move. At all. I can only move any part of my body about an inch. I’m fucking paralyzed. I can’t even lift my head up. WHAT THE FUCK. The more I struggle, the more fucked up things start getting. I hear a thud in the attic above my room, like someone dropping to a floor. And creaking across the celing, like someone walking. Soon the light filtering in from my window begins doing weird things. Like moving, and there’s sort of a shaking thing going on with the light. I’m trying to desperately to move, but I CAN’T, no matter how hard I try. Then it starts getting hard to even keep my eyes open. Soon there’s more noise, and now there are shadows on my walls, in places there couldn’t or shouldn’t be shadows. And I hear walking around outside my room, like moving towards my room. And I’m seeing flashes of really weird shadowy figures moving through my room, like I’m seeing bits and pieces of someone in my room, cut up and out of sequence. I’m freaking the fuck out. I want to be able to move, I want to get out of here, because now I’m 100% sure that someone is coming towards my room. Bear in mind, that in my dream this is all taking just a few minutes, but it feels like forever.

Everything’s getting weird. The jerky dull lights and shadows are moving across my walls incredibly shakily, and there’s a few seconds of no more of the shadow figure, and eventually I can somehow lift my head enough, and keep my eyes open enough, to focus everything on the door to my room. It seems like everything has stopped, but at the same time it feels like everything’s becoming more intense. The door starts to open, and then–

I wake up with one violent jerk, I was so tensed up and scared from my dream.

I’ve only ever had one other dream similar to that before then. It was also me in my bed, however it wasn’t dark, and I was just in my bed, staring at the desk next to my bed. I hear my dad yellinh and banging on the door to the house, and I ahve no idea why, but I didn’t want to or couldn’t get up to go downstairs and unlock the door. Eventually he’s screaming and pounding on the door louder and louder, until I hear one huge, resounding crash, (him breaking down the fucking door), and then thundering up the stairs. The dream ended just as my door was about to open, and just before it did, I knew that whatever was going to open the door was not going to be my father.

Not pleasant dreams to have.

Void of Infinite Nothing

I had this fucked up dream when I was 14, grade 8 at school.
This is all in the dream..

I wake up and the house is fairly normal, and it is regarded as normal in the dream. My mother says something to me like “you finally did it, we just can’t believe it”. I have no idea what she is talking about. This is in the morning so I suppose I prepare for school.

Next thing I’m at school. People are giving me funny looks. There’s a group of them talking about me, I hear them mention my name. I have no idea what is going on, but I start to get the feeling that I have done something terrible but I can’t remember what yet.

This was a long time ago so I can’t remember how long this dream actually lasted but the climax was walking past this girl, called Lauren, who in real life I kinda had a crush on I think. She looks at me with these sad eyes and I say what’s wrong. She bursts into tears and runs off.

My english teacher comes over and starts to be an asshole around me, I think that he kept making half-assed comments like “I can’t believe what you did” and “you’ll never live this down”.

Eventually I coax out of him what has happened. The story is that the previous night I had found Lauren, raped her, and now she was pregnant with my child. That’s why everyone was acting so damned weird.

Now if that’s not a fucked up dream for a 14 year old kid I don’t know what is.

OK, here’s another one. My grandfather died the day before school started for 8th grade. I suppose it was not a good year for pleasant dreams. Anyway, a few days after his funeral, I had this dream where I was at the funeral again.

Only this time it was an open casket and apparently the undertakers had done something extra special for us. My grandfather’s body was lying there, except that his face was sunken in, his body was writhing rhythmically, his eyes were bulging out of their sockets on stalks, rotating around, his lips were drawn back and his mouth was chewing etc.

It was like they had turned his body into this grotesque animatronic puppet, lying there and squirming around. It was horrifying. Fucking horrifying. I woke up after that one.

Cixel Syd

Way way out in the farmlands where my town’s stoner population goes to drive and toke, there’s a graveyard down a crappy dirt path that’s down another crappy dirt path. This graveyard is messed up. A good 1/4 of the tombstones are this small lot of dead children with tiny little tombstones, most of which are broken or knocked over. There’s also some fucked up tree next to a lone gravestone, both of which are all torn up and a hoe has been laying next to them for years, with the end of it whittled down to a sharp point.

There is also one very large gravestone of a man and his wife, who died in the 20’s and 30’s, but the gravestone is in perfect condition. The gravestone is set far away from the rest of them under a twisted ass tree. On some scary ass night, 3 people were standing next to it, and one of them has a tape recorder. They’re all talking and one of them leans against the tombstone and reads “here lies blahblahblah, died in 1928.” Well he leaned on it in between the “here lies name” and “died in 1928” parts.

Later the tape was being listened to to see if anything supernatural had been recorded. All 3 voices can be heard distinctly talking at once. On the tape, while the other two are saying something incoherent, the guy says “Here lies namename” and then over the “died in 1928” part is a DEEP whisper saying “DONT TOUCH ME” but you can hear all 3 other people talking on the tape at the same time.

Freaky, huh?

Skippy

It was the Easter long weekend a few years back, 3 or 4 years to be exact, and I was at my grandma’s house, although I was staying at my nearby great aunt’s house with my cousin and his friend. Now, to set you up you’ve got to realize that my grandma’s house is in the middle of nowhere, not quite the creepy mountain ghost dwelling, but similar creepy shacks and old old history (less voilent). In the middle of the surrounding
forests there are two old gravel pits, not full fledged gravel pits, but places where companies many many years ago investigated the possibility of a quary. SO these suto-quaries are not very deep, maybe a few feet, and surrounded by plenty of open rock. So my cousin, his friend, and I, decide to have a roman candle war (shoot fireballs at eachother a la Joe Dirt) so much fun is being had by all until a stray fireball flys out of the gravel pit and into a very very old rotted stump. Being the saftey-conscious folks we are, we muscle the stump out of the ground and drag it into the middle of the pit, where we douse it with sprite and piss to put out any bit of smoldering we can see. All is good and safe when we decide to retire for the night.
So I am in a state between sleep and awake on my Great Aunts couch and I start thinking of the previous events and I have a sort of dream of a confession in my catholic church, confessing to the priest for all of the “PROBLEMS” in my life. Not a very odd dream at the time, so I thought nothing of it.
The next morning I woke up oddly early, to start the treck through the forest/gravel pit back to my grandma’s house, it was a beautiful sunny day and I enjoy a tromp through the bush. However I round the corner into the gravel pit and all around one end of the gravel pit (close to where the stump resided) is smoldering ruins and blazing underbrush/trees. This is not good, I run back, wake everyone up and my cousin, his friend and I, along with our fathers get the majority of the still flaming objects subdued, with shovels. So the blame is immediatly laid on the three of us, and we spend the entire day, until almost evening making sure that absolutly every buit of fire and ember is completely out, not an easy task seeing as there was a 4 minute wlak to the nearest well.
So the fire is out, and we are resting in the gravel pit, feeling a little shagged and fagged, when I stumbel over to the edge to take a piss. I look down and right where I stand, right where we had pulled the smoldering stump out to the night before, etched in the slate floor of the gravel pit, is a single sentance….. “SIN IS YOUR PROBLEM.”
To this day my cousin and I will swear that we were set up, there is no way that stump caught the surrounding bush on fire, and ewven if it did that insaide inscription can not be explained, the closest relation I can think of is to my dream apologizing to the priest for my “PROBLEMS”. Some freaky shit went down that night, and I really doubt we’ll ever know who or what scratched that into the rock. It stays there to this day.

ProjektorBoy

This is ProjektorBoy’s sister.

Yeah, as if ProjektorBoy ever believed this story.. Although it happened WHILE HE WAS IN THE FUCKING HOUSE… He also saw me cry about it and didn’t believe me, but I digress.

I had a friend over, and the weird thing about her was (well, lots of things which is why I don’t talk to her anymore… but this was weird) she had this spirit that would follow her around. (His name was Patrick, something or other. He was supposedly her future son) We were hanging out in my room, talking in the dark. (At her house he would tap me to see what I would do. That was when I finally believed a spirit was following her around.)

So in my room, I saw a slight flash in the corner of my eye… Almost a blueish color. I thought it was strange, but I disregarded it. A little later I felt the same tapping. It was the little boy. The boy that followed her. He was upset about something. And she kept talking to him trying to get her to say. I don’t know why, but she handed him my keychain, it had a Barrel of Monkies on it. He threw that across the room. She tried to calm him down. But after a little bit, he said “they (I don’t know who they are.. I think his caretakers?) are calling me..” So he went home…

We came out into the livingroom, and watched TV for a bit. Not suspectingmuch of anything. Then came back to my room to talk again… In the dark. YAY!

Upon settling down we hear sudden LOUD and violent knocks on my dresser. Of course, we’re girls, we screamed. She asked if it was her son, with the whole one knock for yes, two knocks for no. He knocked twice. At this point, we were terrified and did not know what it was, or how it got in my room. We asked if it knew us, it said no. We then asked if it had any good intentions, the answer was no. Periodicially, while being too afraid to even stand, talk, or sit up. He would just knock loudly several times.

A few moments later, being scared shitless already. My friend was pulled into the dresser, as she was closest. So I jumped up and ran out. Then she pouted some shit about facing our fears. Screw that, it’s evil, I’m out of there. I made her get out because I was already in tears. We ran into the living room, and I curled myself up in a blanket crying hystericially.

Then we (Stupid!) came back to see if it had gone… We hesitated around my door. Then finally had the guts to go in. She sat on my bed… We didn’t feel like anything horrible was there. All of a sudden she was pulled into the wall. In a fit of tearful rage, I started yelling and praying. Then left the room again…

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep in there for a few nights.

After that, we asked her son if he had left some sort of “door” open or something. He said he forgot to close it…

–more–

I had a fucked up dream last night…

So, me and a friend of mine were in some sort of conference room. There were people sitting in all the seats. We were with our families. A few rather well dressed men and women came up to us and asked us to come to the back room with them. We came with our families, and they led our parents to another room.

Everything looked clean and almost futuristic. All there was in our room was 4 walls (one glass to see a waiting room) and a TV on one of the walls. The waiting room was full of kids and teenagers. And our parents were no where to be seen, nor were any visible adults. They then begin to show us a video about orphans.

This video told us we were going to be orphans. We were chosen by this secret society. So, it told us what would happen to us. We would never ever see what we originally knew as home again, or anything of the like. Immediately we looked at each other in panic, but we could not leave the room. We didn’t know how. Then the video showed us what would happen to our parents.

It showed naked adults being placed into a grinder head first. We saw their legs flailing around, and blood flying out. So we looked at each other and started crying. We were then forced into the waiting room.

We walked in and we could only see kids with tears in their eyes waiting for what was going to come next. We kept looking for a way to escape and find our parents. So we break glass somehow, and get out. But for some reason, no other kids were leaving along with us. So we snuck around. We ran into a small asian woman and she asked us, “What do you think you’re doing..?” Somehow, there are aluminum bats laying around… We both picked one up and tried to hit her with them. As we continually hit her, she just stood there. Not even the forces of the hit affected her. She just stood there telling us of our futile attempts to win…

Then I woke up…

Worst. Dream. Ever.

F^2

My grandparents have a farm. It’s not exactly isolated, but to get to the neighbors it’s a 10 minute walk through some bamboo woods. In the day you can see the neighbor’s houses. At night though, it’s complete darkness.

Behind their house is a creek. And on the other side of the creek, it’s all just barren land. I’m not sure if it’s their land or not. Never seen anything but weed grown there. All of the farmland are in front of the house. I do know for a fact that there are several graves around there. Some dirt mounds, weed, and more bamboo.

Here’s a craptacular semi-picture

This night I was out catching crickets with my cousin. Since we didn’t have too much things to do. We wandered around, and put them into little cages. We also got grasshoppers which we used to fight each-other. Good clean fun.

We were in the bamboo groves when we heard a grasshopper. We heard it hopping on fallen bamboo leaves, so we followed it. We lost track of it however. But then the ingenious idea of “Hey, let’s check out those mounds” popped up. So we did.

We didn’t quite find any crickets or grasshoppers. But we did find quite a few of those tombstones. So didn’t care for them much, so we kept walking around. It was a full moon so it was pretty clear.

Then I turned around and saw something really strange over a grave: little blue-ish spark-looking things. Thinking they were fireflys or something, we walked up, and tried to grasp them. But my hand just went through them.

My body suddenly stiffened up and the hairs on the back of my head just stood up, and I could hear a soft sighing in my ear, but I couldn’t make out where it was from. So as any kid of 8, terrified and trembling at the same time, I ran. It took eternity. My cousin, a year older than I was, ran faster than I did, and I struggled to catch up. I can still hear the soft-sighing in my ear as I ran into the bamboo.

PROTIP: Bamboo groves at night is the MOST FUCKING SCARY PLACE you can be when you’re already scared.

It took what seemed like eternity, and with all the shadows casting down, the ruffling of bamboo leaves, and the hyperventilation of 2 kids running, with the soft sighing in my ears, just made it horribly worse. Finally we approached the creek, and I fell into it. I somehow tripped on the banks.

In the water, since I knew how to swim, and it wasn’t too deep, I was able to turn around and tried to climb up, then I saw a face, illuminated by the moonlight, and it wasn’t my cousin’s. It’s kind of like the Dead Marshes in LOTR: TTT. It had a furious expression, and was all white, and had snarling hair. And it had no eyes.

I can’t remember much else, but I knew that my cousin pulled me up, and I didn’t leave the house for 2 days. I haven’t been back there for a while.

And Sorry I have no pics, but the place is 16 hours away.

By the way, since my house is haunted (details in the other thread), while typing this, something kept tugging my chair. Not the most comfortable feeling either, especially when you’re recalling a tramatic childhood experience.

HotCarl

First one was when i was about ten or so. My mom made me wash the dishes while everyone else was watching tv. Washing dishes for me was fun when i was 10 (i guess) cause was makeing a badass castle out of them. when out of nowhere, i heard a clang come from right behind me. I turned around and saw a glass knocked over with milk coming out of it. I didnt really think of it to be wierd even though NOBODY WAS IN THE FUCKING ROOM, so i walked like two feet away from where i was to tell my mom in the other room that someone spilt milk on the kitchen table. I turn around and the damn thing was gone. no milk or anything. and what really fucked with me was that i even heard the milk splashing on the floor.

And for my second story, I had this stupid dream where i was walking around with my bed sheets, and for some reason i threw them in the corner of my room, and i woke up.

About a week later i was in a fight with my mom, and i didnt want to make my bed. So i took my bed sheets from the dryer, walked into my room and threw them in a corner. A split second after i did that i realized i was doing the same exact movements and everything that was in my dream. It freaked the shit out of me.

the end

Bonk

Scary shit: I’ve posted scary occurrences several times on this forum before, so I won’t go into great detail about most of them.

• When my best friend was in his teens, he had this sort of angsty goth phase where he was all into witchcraft and demonology. One night he meditated on an evil force, then went to bed. When he switched off the lights, a black shadow was on the wall across from him, with hollow eyes even darker than the shadow. He yelled at it to go away and a glass jar on his desk flew across the room, smashing right next to his head. His father heard the crash and came into the room, and it disappeared when he turned the lights on. I know he wouldn’t lie about something like this, and besides his father even told me that when he came into the room seconds later, there was a small dent in the wall from where the jar hit, and there was glass on the blankets, meaning he couldn’t have smashed it and then gotten under the covers. The next day he moved his dresser to where the shadow was standing. Years later after he’d moved out (his father still lives there), we went back to the house to get something, and his old room was still a mess. We cleaned some shit up and something fell behind the dresser. We moved the dresser and I saw a very faint outline burned into the wall and carpet, of where the thing he described stood.
• My old house was built in the 1800s, and all kinds of weird shit happened there. Every once in a great while, our cat would be let in and out of the house even if the doors were locked and there was no other way he could get in or out. We’d hear footsteps going up the stairs onto the 2nd floor landing at night, and scratching at my mother’s bedroom door like a cat, even if the cat was already sleeping in one of our rooms or was outside. I found a black and white portrait of an old man behind a crumbling brick wall in the cellar, and it once blew off my dresser like there was a full force wind in the room even though my room wasn’t drafty (I put the picture back after that). That’s not even all of what happened, but the rest of it’s pretty minor stuff.
• In the middle of the woods behind that same house there was an old car that’s front end was basically wrapped around a tree. There hasn’t been a road there since the 1950s, but the car was built in the 70s. That’s not necessarily a big deal, someone could’ve driven through the woods I suppose, but several people in the neighborhood have heard weird sounds coming from that direction, and once while walking by it, the tall grass around it started heavily rustling. There was no animal or anything else there.
• Behind my friends house are some woods and beyond that is a golf course of a country club. One time at night, I stayed in the car while my friend just went in to grab something from her house. From far away I saw a white figure with very dull glow walking toward the golf course. It sort of looked back toward me as it was walking, then walked behind a tree, and I didn’t see it at all after that. Needless to say I stayed in the car.

Fucked up dreams:

• One of my earliest memories is a dream I had when I was probably about 2 years old. I think I was still sleeping in a crib at that age. It was raining outside and there was loud thunder and flashes of lightning. I got up and looked out the window near my bed and saw what looked like gears and machinery, like a factory was right outside my window. There was a bright flash of lightning and then I heard a voice say “That I could…Muhuhuhahahahahahahahahaaaaaaa…..” In the dream, I climbed out of my crib and ran through the house screaming for my mom, but nobody was there.
• A few years ago, my ex-girlfriend and I broke up, her family was having some problems so she had to move back home to the next state over, but she basically completely disappeared after that and I never heard from her again. So it’s always kind of been in my mind to find her again, but I’ve had no luck. I’ve never had a dream about her before, but a couple months ago I had one.I found my ex-girlfriend, I went over to her house and it was really big and nice looking, but looked sort of like mine from the outside. Then I kept turning into a mouse, and she saw me and kept calling me a ‘vampire rat’, then we watched some show on TV about bomb shelters, and were talking about whether her house would make a good bomb shelter or not. She had this guy over that was like one of her ex-boyfriends or something but she was sort of still involved with him, and she was also still involved with another guy who she said she used to be married to and he was a gang member or something. One time while I was a mouse, she made me hide in the chandelier so nobody would see me as a mouse. Then I went into the back room and my sister and all her friends were throwing a party, and they started making fun of me for some reason, so i got drunk and passed out on the kitchen floor.
• A few days before that I had a dream that I was taking a test in school, and the test was on Mega Man trivia.
• Here’s a paste of a dream I was telling Starscream about over ICQ. I was sort of typing it out quickly before I started forgetting things about it, so that’s why it’s kind of convoluted:”i had another one last night. sometimes i have this recurring dream where i have to take this big long journey down a river. this one was like that, but it was different this time.
  apparently the water supply in my city has some generator problem and the water turns poisonous, but only to me and like 5 other people, every once in awhile. if we touch it our hands turn into big pieces of crystal. so I floated down the river in a phone booth for some reason, picked up some other dude along the way, and we’re just holding onto the phone booth. we get to this part where a bunch of rapid waterfalls go through all these hills and stuff, but every hill has a house on it. then we get to a flat part and go to someone’s house to see if we can get a ride back home because the water’s okay now. so we try to steal these gigantic plastic toys that look sort of like big transformers that these people have in their garage, but all these kids are around so we leave. then i guess we finally get home or something. then i think i woke up within the dream, and started telling friends it was a recurring dream that i keep having. but the weird part is, i don’t really think it’s a recurring dream. i think i just dreamt the part about telling people it was recurring.”
• Speaking of recurring dreams, a real recurring dream I used to have took place at state park near where I used to live. Much of it is alongside a high cliffside of a mountain range, looking out over the city and surrounding areas. There are trails that go along the cliff and one of them has a huge rock jutting out from it. If you go past the trail’s fence you can comfortably sit about 3 people on the rock without any fear of falling off the edge. The recurring dream I had was always me walking by on the trail, and someone would be standing on the rock. They’d slip, and I’d just catch them by the arm before they fell, and I’d save their lives by pulling them back up. Sometimes it was people I knew, sometimes it was people I didn’t know. I stopped having the dream around my junior year of high school.

Jew

I was twelve and was at Boy Scout camp for about a week, over in some secluded place in the mountains. Well, one night after dinner, we (group of about 200 scouts) went on a big walk through the mountains, over to a bonfire, where the counseleors told a ghost story. It wasn’t too scary, because it was supposed to be comical, but there was a significant part about the area being inhabited by Indians. The place we were at was supposed to be a former burial ground.

They explicity told us NOT to touch this one rock that had been painted, because it was cursed. Bad things would happen to all that touched it.

Of course, I touched this rock. This was Boy Scout camp, and the story they had told us earlier had nothing to do with Indians, so I figured they were just trying to scare us a little.

Every day after that, at our meals (breakfast lunch and dinner), something would fall off of my tray. I couldn’t control it. Sometimes it was just an empty glass, other times it was my chicken fried steak. Every single time I sat down to eat, something would fall off of my plate.

EEEEERRRRIIIIIIEEEEEE

Ferretball

The most common recurring one has me doing something (watching T.V. or eating in the kitchen) and my beloved old cat who died several years ago just WANDERS INTO THE FUCKING HOUSE and starts looking for food. I think to myself “not again” (this is a RECURRING dream, remember). Of course, it is now decrepit and mangy, but doesn’t look undead. Still, it could die again at any second. I am obviously speechless, and I hesitate and open a can of tuna fish to feed the poor wretch, and I satiate its thirst by providing a bowl of water. Oddly enough, I get used to the fact that my dead cat is now alive and in my house.

The old cat finishes up her food and does one of two things: a) she either gives me a blank stare and runs out the door, with me knowing that she’ll come back in a couple of months, or b) she runs into some hole in the basement, or finds a hiding place in the closet where she’ll pop out in a couple of weeks expecting to be fed and watered again.

Geiiga

Dream #1 (ever): This may even be my first memory, so it’s not particularly scary. I think I was three years old at the time, and the dream took place at Halloween. I was doing the normal Halloween stuff, and for some reason I decided I’d ring my own doorbell. I was expecting a parent to open the door, but instead I got the classic Wicked Witch of Wherever-looking hag with pointy hat and all staring right at me. I turned and sprinted off, and the witch came after me. She managed to grab my calf, and all the flesh just peeled off from the knee down, leaving just bone.

Dream #2: This was the most recent dream I’ve remembered, and it was sadly cut short before it got really good. I was looking down on the couch upon which I sleep, and on my computer was, oddly enough, a sine wave. There was a guy on the couch, but I didn’t get the feeling like it was me. However, I had this feeling that the sine wave was the guy’s brain wave. As soon as I realized that’s what it was, it went berserk…the wave turned into a solid bar. At that same moment, a text window popped up, and the following was typed out with, mind you, no one touching the keyboard:
I AM (some word that started with a Z that I forgot shortly after waking up)
I AM HE WHO IS CALLED I AM.
And then my fucking alarm clock went off.

Anyway, my friend’s story. Took place a couple of years ago, while he was driving around the country. This particular story was in California. He was driving at night along a road, with a cliff off to the left. He saw ahead of him a pair of headlights, not moving. As he got closer, he noticed that the car was pointed directly toward the cliff. Right in front of the car was an enormous black bird. He said that it flew off as he got closer to it, and that the wingspan had to have been at least ten feet. He went to have a look at the car, and there were two guys in there, about his age, just repeating a sentence over and over again.
“He stopped us from going over the edge.”

therapy

The most terrifying dream I have is this:

My family and I are grasping the wing of a large military-style cargo jet. A C-130 or C-5 or something. We’re on top of the wing, and the plane is just taking off. To the left of me is my sister, and to the right is my mom, and past her, my dad. My brother, 10 years younger than I am at 14, is in front of me, grasping on to the wing parallel to the wing instead of perpendicular to it. He’s asleep.

As the plane roars down the runway, I look to my left and notice that there’s another plane taking off at the same time roughly 5 feet away, wingtip to wingtip. In front of us, is a GIANT aircraft carrier. The Aircraft Carrier is so large that we’ve gotta fly under part of the deck before the plane can pull up quickly between the tower and the rear deck, on the starboard side of this thing. So as we’re flying down the runway, all grasping on for dear life, I notice that the hydraulics on the wing start moving forward, and we all grasp on firmly.

Except my little brother, who’s asleep. I reach out and try to grab his jacket, but he falls forward, sliding down the front of the wing, asleep. One arm is in the jacket which I have, and the rest of him starts falling. He doesn’t wake up, he just slides off the front of the wing as we take off. I usually wake up just as he’s sliding off.

That dream actually horrifies me more than any other dream I’ve had.

Sonance

1) I wrote this piece of prose fairly soon after waking up from the dream in which I, well, dreamt it. I haven’t expanded, added or edited the content of the dream in any way, just merely presented it in a prose form. (I do a lot of writing, so this sort of thing comes naturally to me!)

Our first indication that something had gone terribly wrong came as I pulled into the college’s multi-storey car park that afternoon. The first thing that immediately struck me were the lack of cars. Not a worrying prospect in itself, but then a second odd thing occurred to me as I secured a parking place and began to collect my belongings together and leave the vehicle.

From out of nowhere, a stream of people – perhaps a few dozen – descending the downward ramps. Again, not an entirely unusual occurrence, but the thing that struck me was the look of pure, blind panic on their faces. Other covered their faces as they huried to find an exit from the car park, a few had what appeared to be severe blood stains liberally splashed about their clothing. Some weren’t even wearing clothes! What sort of crazy shit was happening here? The small crowd didn’t even seem to be aware of one another, stumbling into and recoiling from one another as if blind. They said nothing to one another, their only sound being feet dragging over concrete and perhaps the odd murmur or whimper from those
that passed within close proximity to myself.

And then, one of them appeared to notice me for the first time, began shuffling towards me in a zombie-like fashion. She was a young woman, barely older than eighteen, wearing nothing but her underwear, sporting a nasty looking gash across her abdomen.

“Again, again,” she cried, her voice almost a whisper and choked by tears. “They’re doing it again, but this time it’s all of us. They want every single fucking one of us.”

I had no idea what she was talking about, but the hairs on the back of neck stood up and I felt a strange, almost primeval fear begin to stir somewhere inside me – something I hadn’t actually felt since I was a child.

And with that, the crowd had dispersed, trickling away down the downramps and through the exits.

I didn’t quite know how to react to all of that. I think I stood still in the car park for about five minutes, although two things seemed to be happening at once. Later, whilst attempting to reconstruct my memory of those people, my brain seemed to be providing me with two accounts of what really happened that afternoon. The first was very simple, thoroughly plausible and clear as crystal in my mind’s eye. The second was complex, long-winded but fuzzy. As if my memory were immediately slamming and locking doors as I approached. I’d parked the car, seen the people and then… left the car park to walk into college? It all seemed to simple, but there was a loose thread of memory there somewhere, only one too thin and delicate to grasp.

I entered college, only to met by a rush of noise and activity. In the large reception area, usually home to only a few people at any one time was crammed to the rafters. It took me a while to actually fully grasp what was happening here. At first I thought that maybe there was some sort of calendar event in progress – perhaps some sort of presentation in the main hall. But then I noticed the paramedics – small groups of them liberally dotted around the reception area. Then I heard the noises – cries of pain, whimpering, voices enduring some sort of
trauma. Then I saw the students – groups of them sitting up against the walls, some with faces buried in hands, others comforting those in the most obvious state of distress. Some were covered in blood. Others appeared to be in a similar state of undress as those I’d observed in the car park.

There were fucking body bags stacked against one wall! Zipped up and lumpy and shit!

My gut reaction suggested that some crazy fucker had embarked upon a shooting rampage, but that didn’t seem to be the case. I saw people being treated for cuts and grazes to their faces and hands. Some appeared to have severe burns on their arms and legs. A few people were covered head to toe in in weeping sores and deep red blisters. In one corner, emergency surgery seemed to be occurring as a paramedic had someone’s chest open, hands deep inside their chest cavity as they conducted open heart massage.

I eventually managed to catch the attention of one of the paramedics.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

She was sewing up someone’s face and didn’t look up. “Everyone disappeared,” she said.

“What?”

“They just disappeared. It was like everyone in the entire building vanished. Some time this morning – but now they’re back. Some of them.”

The guy getting his face stitched was almost coherent. “They usually took us one at a time, and usually only at night, but now they want the whole fucking lot of us. Day or night, it doesn’t matter any more. We are in the shit now. Nothing matters.”

2) Here’s a direct cut & paste from an email I sent a friend of mine after having another weird fucking dream!

Just this minute woken up from having another peculiar dream, so I thought I’d write it down whilst it was still fresh!

The dream was in two parts, I’ve forgotten all of the first part, but it ended with myself and a friend sitting somewhere outside. We we overlooking a road of some kind with a long tree line. In the sky, we could make out what looked like a helicopter, only it was kind of odd, because it had a sort of “trail” of about six cube-shaped boxes, each one as big as the helicopter itself, after it. The helicopter looped the loop and seemed to crash beyond the treeline.

We went to investigate the crash site. I parked my car nearby and we got out to walk to the field in question. The field was protected by a tough barbed wire fence with “private” messages along its length. My friend and I suddenly noticed that there were a number of people sitting/standing around the area outside this field. Some were sitting on chairs, some were sitting on grass verges. They all seemed pretty “out of it”. It seemed to be the middle of summer — it was quite hot and everyone was wearing t-shirt and shorts or skirts.

The only person who stood out was a grey-haired, middle-aged gentleman (everyone else was aged about 18-30). He stood up to greet us and welcome us, but told us we weren’t allowed into the field.

The scene then shifted slightly to a urban city street. It was the middle of the day and still quite sunny. My friend and I were in my car — we’d pulled up a few streets away from a house where we knew this grey-haired gentleman lived. We’d brought with us a suitcase each of clothing and toiletries — for some reason we knew we were going to be staying at this house for a while. There was an air of a religious retreat about this whole experience, but something didn’t feel right.

We entered the house and settled down. Met quite a few other people. At this point, the specifics of the dream get *very* vague. I don’t know exactly what happened, but somehow I “discovered” that there was something *VERY* wrong about this set up and that we were in great danger. We then tried to escape from the house, but the interior turned into a massive moebius loop, like an M C Escher painting. If you tried to escape via one room/route, you’d end up back where you strarted, only things were “darker”. Bit tricky to explain/describe!

My friend was eventually “captured” (by what, I don’t know), although for some reason it involved the use of a radio. (??) I managed to avoid the grey-haired gentleman, who by now was aware of what I was trying to do. My life was in danger.

Eventually, I managed to find a way out of the house, which involved “tricking” the Escher-like loops in a certain way. But once outside I found that the same, bizarre geograhical logic was at work. It took me quite some time to “trick the loops” and find the street down which my car was parked… or at least where I thought my car was parked. I spent a while trying to find it, but eventually deduced that the grey-haired gentleman must have stolen it and sold it for scrap, or changed its identity.

As I tried to find a way of tricking the loops on foot, I found myself back on the street containing the strange house. I could see the grey-haired gentleman leaving. He seemed like he was dressed to go on holiday. He had a suitcase and a bag of golf clubs. He made his way to an archway further along the street and disappeared into it. I took a closer look and found it was a garage and his car was parked there — it looked like mine, only it was rusty and dusty and had a different license plate.

Before he could see me, I headed back down the street, looking for a way out. I made my way to a new street, but turned to find that three people were following me. I recognised them all as youths from the house, one of them was my friend, but he appeared to be “brainwashed”. They were all wearing suits, looking quite smart. I started to talk to them, apologising for leaving the house, when further down the street I saw the grey-haired man heading towards us. I thought I was going to die, so I turned to run. Surprisingly, the man didn’t give chase, but simply shouted out after me, taunting me, telling me I’d give in eventually and wouldn’t run forever. I kept running, suddenly aware that the man and the three people from the house were now following me.

I managed to trick the loops again and head deeper into the heart of the city, which sort of resembled London but at the same time seemed to be a coastal city. Everywhere I went, it was like I was walking around a kaleidoscopic version of the streets and buildings — one “segment” of the kaleidoscope would lead to somewhere new, the others would take me back where I started. Bit hard to explain (as usual), but if you’ve seen Michel Gondry’s video for The Chemical Brothers’ “Let Forever Be”, you’ll sort of know what I mean (go here — http://director-file.com/gondry/Dxxvii.html — and click on PICS or MOV).

I eventually managed to trick the loops again and found myself on a long city street. It was early evening, still fairly busy. I’d joined up with a group of people, including one red haired girl who was quite chirpy and befriended me. For some reason, they seemed like tourists, only they had English accents.

At that point the dream, faded… I knew I’d escaped from the Escher-like constructs of the strange grey-haired man and his brainwashed cult, but I was unsure exactly where I’d escaped too… and the mystery of the crashed helicopter still lingered…

Notes: Funny how a few of my recent dreams have all started with a strange object in the sky crashing into the ground, which then becomes the catalyst of me first joining a group of people in a house, then trying to escape, fearing my life is in danger…

I think my car appeared in the dream because I’ve got to pay for a new tax disc and had just been sorting out my insurance form. The Escher-like constructs are something brand new in my dreams, although oddly enough they’re a fairly important aspect of my “Chloe Hears Colours” novel project (not currently working on it though, not have I thought about it recently), plus there’s an episode of Doctor Who called “Castrovalva” in which some characters are trying to escape an Escher-esque town. Don’t know where the brainwashing/cult thing comes from, nor the mysterious grey-haired gentleman!

Before I had this dream, there was a sort of mini/short dream, in which I was riding my BMX through the streets near where I grew up. It was night and raining quite heavily. For some reason, the streets and pavements seemed to be full of these large worm-like things that were scurrying across the ground. I ran a few over and they screamed. I then noticed some bigger creatures scurrying around, which resembled what I can only describe as a cross between a lobster and a millipede, albeit as big as the former. Once they “saw” me, they scurried after me at an alarming speed. I only just managed to stay ahead of them, on my bike, worried what might happen if one should bite me.

3) Erm, there is no three. I fucked up and can’t be arsed to edit all the other number.

Here’s loads of miscellaneous dreams and shit, culled from various emails I’ve sent people over the years.

4) When I was about seven (twenty years ago), a group of about three or four of us (including my brother, then aged about five) were standing in a field. The field was part of our school, but set off a small way from the main buildings. Anyway, we heard this roar of a jet plane and looked up to see it. This was in the middle of summer — the sky was a perfect blue with only a few solitary clouds. All four of us watched as the jet plane thundered across the sky, disappear behind one of the clouds and… well, it didn’t emerge! The sound was also fading away at this point.

We were all gobsmacked! We just stood there, looking at each other, then the sky, then at each other again. At the speed the plane was travelling, it should have emerged from behind the cloud within a couple of seconds — and the rest of the sky was clear enough that we should have been able to spot it once it had. We didn’t tell anyone else about this — indeed, all the other kids who were playing back in the main school yard weren’t even looking in the sky and probably didn’t even notice it.

5) This must have been when I was about six or seven. My brother and I shared a room — we had bunk beds and would usually take it in turns to go on the top or bottom. One night, I climbed into the bottom bunk with my favourite fluffy toy and my brother clambered up onto the top bunk with his favourite toy. We eventually drifted off to sleep.

Later, I awoke to find my nose literally about an inch away from the ceiling! I snapped awake and felt a brief jerk as the ceiling fell away from me. I then noticed that *I* was on the top bunk! This was most odd. I looked around and saw my brother’s fluffy toy in the bed with me. Most bemused, I looked down over the side and there was my brother, curled up fast asleep with my toy in the bottom bunk! I think I just laughed and then went back to sleep again.

6) Around the same time, my brother told me of a strange “dream” he had. He was in the bottom bunk and had a teddy bear in bed with him. This teddy bear was approximately eight inches tall, white and was in a “sitting” position. My brother explained that in his dream, he was lying in the bottom bunk and suddenly felt a chill and instinctively threw the teddy bear out of the bunk. He then described that he saw the teddy bear stand up and begin walking back towards the bed, its eyes “looking mean”. The dream ended at that point.

7) When I was about three or four years old (and my brother about 18-months to two years old), we’d regularly visit our grandparents. Our grandparents had this strange little wind-up toy that resembled what I can only described as a large wood louse, with a purple/metallic shell and loads of little mechanical legs that would scuttle when you wound it up.

Although I have only vague recollections of the strange toy (which I think my grandparents bought in Spain), I’m told that I seemed to be very scared of it, whilst my brother loved it. Seeing this toy crawl across the floor towards me and the feel of the little mechanical legs on my skin made me very frightened. I would often have dreams of it.

8.) A recent-ish one, about four or five years ago. I was asleep, in bed, when I suddenly sat bolt upright, feeling perfectly awake and as lucid as I am now whilst writing this message — very unusual seeing as I’d been fast asleep mere seconds earlier. I had the sudden sensation that “something” had bolted out of my wardrobe, across the floor, and disappeared under the chair/desk at the foot of my bed. For some reason, I then leapt out of bed, dashed to the other side of the
room and slammed on the light switch. I just stood there, looking under my desk, seeing if anything was going to emerge. For some reason, I was expecting to find a big insect there, but I don’t know why.

I then instinctively picked up a shoe/trainer and threw it under my desk, hoping to “squash” whatever had run under there. As soon as I’d thrown the shoe, a feeling of immense calm came over me and I turned the light off, crawled back into bed and instantly fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up and remembered the strange “dream”. But surely enough, I looked under my desk and found that I had indeed thrown my shoe under there. I dismissed the dream as a result of me having watched Aliens the night before and Jurassic Park a few nights before that.

9) Going back to when I was about six/seven again. At the house we lived in at the time, during the early evening, all the upstairs lights would be turned off. We had a set of stairs that went upwards in a U-shape. I remember my brother and I were too scared to go upstairs into the dark. We’d dare each other to peep around the stairs and up into the darkness.

10) I have a dream from around the same time (again!). I’m in the house alone, it’s night and I climb down from off the top bunk. Oddly enough, my brother isn’t in the bottom bunk. I walk out of our room and onto the landing. It’s dark, but not pitch black. I’m aware of a *very* faint blue tinge to everything. I want to go into my mum and dad’s room, because I’m scared, but the door won’t open — it’s as if it’s locked (in reality, the door wasn’t locked at all).

11) The earliest dreams I remember are *texture* dreams. Very weird and abstract, and difficult to explain. I seemed to have them whenever my brother and I were sleeping round our grandparents’ house. I think it might have had something to do with the stippled ceiling and strange designs on the bathroom tiles. In these dreams, I’d always be drifting over a featureless white landscape. I couldn’t see anything, but I could *feel* these weird textures as I “passed” over them. I hope that makes sense. Sometimes the textures would be smooth and soothing. Other times the textures would be harsh, chaotic and sharp. Sometimes, the textures would be so sharp, I’d actually feel pain and it’d wake me up. I probably stopped having these dreams when I was about seven or eight.

12) I occasionally experience sleep paralysis. I had it a lot (virtually every other night) between the ages of eight and twenty, but now I only get it every now and then. Perhaps three or four times a year. It’s never scared me though — I just find it annoying, because it stops me from either sleeping or waking up. I’ve perfected a method of reducing it though and I can usually snap myself out of it within about five seconds.

One time I experienced it, I decided to see how long I could stay paralysed for. Whilst paralysed, I was suddenly aware that I had a “choice”. My mind could step to the left and wake up, or it could step to the right and invesitage “the darkness”. I started moving to the right, but suddenly felt really nervous and decided to step to the left, whereupon the paralysis faded and I “woke up”.

I always wondered what I looked like whilst in sleep paralysis and wondered what would happen if someone (family) came into the room at the time. During one instance, I remember sensing someone coming into my room whilst I was thrashing about, trying to “break” the paralysis. When I finally did, I found it was my mum. I asked her what she saw when she entered the room, but she said she just saw me lying in bed, fast asleep.

13) About four years ago, a friend of mine told me about a weird dream she’d had. She was sitting in the living room with her father, when there was a knock at the door. Before anyone could answer, the door burst open and a boy aged about eight stormed into the room. Her dad tried to stand up to confront the boy, but found himself frozen in place. The boy then walked up to my friend, a manic expression on his face, and stuck a small, thin dagger into her neck. She then woke up with a jolt.

Oddly enough, I did have a curious dream about this friend a few weeks earlier. It was at college, at night. There was the long corridor that everyone nicknamed the “wind tunnel” that swept down the length of the college. I was walking along the wind tunnel, all the lights were off. I was then aware of a red glow up ahead. I approached the glow and found my friend sitting in it, slumped up against the wall. She looked up at me and held out a hand, asking for help. I tried to, but I couldn’t reach her. The red “glow” somehow prevented me. I then woke up and felt very guilty.

14) This must have been around 1989/1990. I forget when exactly. One night I dreamt that the Space Shuttle took off and exploded. Fair enough, this was about four years after the Challenger disaster, so I guess I was just dreaming about it. I do recall a snippet of dialogue within the dream (as if I was watching the launch on TV and hearing a commentary). After the explosion, the commentary mentioned a “faulty fuel pipe”. Hmm, fair enough, but I thought nothing more of it.

But the next morning I happened to browsing through teletext and noticed a news item that mentioned a shuttle was launching that day. This was just too much of a weird coincidence — the only time in my life I dream of a shuttle and the next day there’s a launch.

Needless to say, I raced home from college that afternoon, eager for news of the launch. It was quite chilling to then read on teletext that the launch of the shuttle had been delayed, due to a faulty fuel pipe. Wibble!

There’s evidence that I documented this dream before the news item regarding the faulty fuel pipe, because I posted details of the dream onto a BBS earlier that morning, before I went to college. It freaked out all the other members of the BBS!

15) Throughout my teens, I always had these recurring dreams that I was on the run from a “figure”. The scenario was always the same. It’s night, in my local neighbourhood. I was at the top of a hill and the figure was at the bottom. I was about 200 metres from my house and I’d turn to run, but as with all classic running dreams, it feels like you’re running through treacle and you don’t get anywhere. All the while, the figure’s getting closer.

16) Neil is in the office playing a strange 3D version of Alleykat (C64 computer game) on the PC. His friends James and Karl are around. For some reason, Karl has brought his girlfriend, which is a bit strange because he’s actually gay. I show Karl the original C64 version on my computer, although for some reason it turns into this new 3D version. Karl keep adjusting the brightness on my monitor, but he can’t seem to angle the screen properly. I end up adjusting the monitor for him, but he gives up and goes away.

17) A train carriage slowly goes by my bedroom window. It’s so close I can almost reach out and touch it. It’s a very modern carriage, but the colours are slightly off. There doesn’t appear to be anyone on board, although I still feel like I’m being watched.

18) In a ditch overlooking my window (no such thing exists in real life), presumably opposite the railroad tracks which this train used, I see Prince Charles and some other individual trying to free a white/ginger cat who’s become tangled up in some wiring. Did someone try and tie the cat to the railway line? They know what they’re doing so I leave them alone.

19) I’m in a restaurant looking for the restroom. I find three doors, one for ladies, one for pregnant ladies and another with a weird symbol I can’t define. I try to enter it, but a woman emerges and I think better of it. I finally find the men’s restroom at the other end of the restaurant. There’s a young couple standing in one corner, discussing the stock market. There’s only one urinal, directly underneath a sink where people are trying to wash their hands! The restroom has a strange green, metallic décor that reminds me of an operating theatre.

20) I look out of my window and see the cat is still tied to the side of the railway line. Didn’t Prince Charles and the other bloke free it? The cat looks up at me briefly and then continues thrashing around. I look around and find two pairs of scissors, two pairs of pliers and a blanket. I will go and free the cat.

21) I’m in a kitchen (not one I recognise) trying to housetrain two pets – one of them is a dog (?), the other is a cat, but not a cat I recognise. It’s brown but has a bright yellow crop of fur on its head. I talk to the dog for a few minutes and then notice the cat has disappeared.

22) I’m walking through a modern housing estate which looks kind of familiar, but unfamiliar at the same time. For some reason, my I get the impression my hair is dry and messy, so I find a drinking fountain on a raised pedestal, take a mouthful of water but don’t swallow, and then use some of the water to get my hair looking like it should.

23) I’m in the queue for the checkout at a supermarket. Only for a few seconds… I can’t see what I’m holding. Do I recognise someone from outside the window? Dream fades.

24) I’m on a bike, trying to negotiate a pinch-block in the road. It’s my right of way, but a large truck is sort of blocking my route. I have to actually duck underneath the truck and drag my bike through. I turn and look and the truck is no longer there, but there’s a group of people looking confused.

25) I’m carrying a parcel around London. Am I supposed to be delivering it or did someone give it to me? I check the address – it’s for somewhere inNE1. I can’t make out the precise address, but it appears to be for some sort of manufacturing firm whose name begins with “M”. If I can find a map, I might be able to work out where they are and deliver it by hand.

26) The truck from before slowly drives past. Is the driver looking at me? It slows down and I think the driver is going to ask me for directions, so I quicken my pace and ignore the truck. I then suddenly think that perhaps I should have given the parcel to the truck driver.

buki

A story about my father for you.

My dad lived in the same house I was born in, he’d been there for quite a while. There had been some weird goings-on, but mostly dismissable stuff– phone ringing and someone else picking it up, footsteps here and there, the usual ghostly whatever.

Until one night. There had been more activity than usual upstairs: bangs and knocks and just loudness. So my dad said “Enough!”

He made his way to the stairs, fully intent on going up there and either finding out who the hell was up there, or just shutting the damn thing up.

He got to about a third of the way up the stairs, when he saw someone coming down. It looked like a man. As it got closer, he saw it actually was a man…wearing a bathrobe.

My father actually had to step aside to let this guy go past him. Once the guy hit the bottom of the stairs, he was gone. Not ran away, zipped around the corner…he just vanished.

I still drive past this house sometimes, and I always want to ask them, “ever see a guy in a bathrobe?”

pahuyuth

My friend Michael and I were house sitting for another friend’s family while they were gone on vacation. We were about 15 or 16 at the time, and this scared the bejeezus out of us. Michael is not the type to fuck around, so I’m 100% sure it wasn’t him.

The house we were staying in was 3 stories, with our friend’s room on the bottom level. We decided it would be a fun prank to turn everying in his room upside down… pictures, desk, bed… everything (LOL WE WERE SOOO FUNNAY LOL). I took a break from the shenanigans and went to the bathroom which was the next door down the hall. I open the door and saw a rotten egg sitting in the sink. Not scary, but weird. I confronted Michael who said that he didn’t put it there. We were kinda disturbed but weren’t jupming out of our skin… yet.

We went back into the bedroom and continued the messing up the room… then Michael heard footsteps on the level above us. The house was locked down tight, had an alarm system, and was in a gated community. We couldn’t imagine how anyone could have gotten in without us knowing. Michael grabbed our friend’s shotgun, and we went up the stairs to investigate.

I decided it might be a good idea to get a weapon for myself, so I went into the kitchen and got the biggest knife I could find. I also let their 2 dogs in, thinking they would know if something was wrong in their house. We checked each room on the second level, and all was clear.

We went up to the top floor, where the parents’ bedroom was. The dogs would not follow us… instead they sat on the stairs with their tails between their legs, whimpering. Not a good sign. These dogs were chows, and I had never seen them shy from any sort of confrontation before.

We went into the master bedroom which was completely dark. The only source of light was a lamp on the the other side of the room. We got about halfway across the room when the air suddenly became VERY cold and we felt a slight breeze. At this point, we stopped dead in our tracks. I looked at Michael and his face was practically glowing he looked so white. Then we heard the breathing.

Something was in the room with us. The sound we heard alternated between a very labored breathing type of noise and a low moaning sound. I looked out into the hallway and saw the dogs haul ass down the stairs. We both stood there, trembling, afraid to move or make a sound. I felt something brush against the back of my neck… it felt like spiderwebs… kind of sticky and stringy. Michael later told me he felt the same thing. The moaning got louder, and we got the fuck out of that room.

We ran downstairs and called Michael’s dad (Michael’s family lived next door) and asked him to OMG GET OVER HERE ANS SAVE US NOW! His dad was ex-Special Forces, so we felt sure that he could deal with whatever it was. After his dad chuckled on the phone for a bit, he came over.

‘Alright you sissy jackasses’ he said once inside the house ‘what is going on?’ We filled him on the situation, and he headed upstairs with his .45 handgun. He was living it up… yelling at whatever was in the house ‘I’M GONNA FUCK YOU UP’ and shit like that. I think he even kicked in the door to one of the rooms. He came back to us, and reported that everthing was clear. No monsters, no burglars, no ghosts.. nothing.

We didn’t spend another night in that house. This happened about 13 years ago, and to this day our friends’ family thinks we are batshit insane. The only other time I have been so scared was when….

Michael and I decided to ghost hunting. After we survived our encounted in the House of Scary Shit, we figured we could get through any supernatural crisis.

We heard of an old house that was rumored to be haunted. It was down a long, narrow dirt road in the middle of nowhere (naturally). On either side of the driveway was a marsh. At midnight, we suited up with our flashlights and cameras and headed down the road. It was too overgrown with vegetation to drive, so we walked.

That was mistake #1. We got about 3/4 of the way to the house when Michael’s flashlight died. About 30 seconds later, mine went out too. At this point our reaction was ‘Whaafuck?!’ Since the batteries in BOTH flashlights were brand spanking new, this was indeed strange. After frantic, repeated beatings on it, my light finally came back on. We trudged onward toward the house. The flashlight revealed that the doors and windows had been boarded up. We finally found a way inside, through a cellar door in the back. Opening it and entering was mistake #2.

We looked around the basement, and found jars of all kinds of weird shit. They may have been old containers of fruit or pickled food, but I swear I saw small animals in some of them.

We went up the stairs and found that the door was open. We stepped into the main room and were greeted by a shitload of mice scurrying about. That made us almost shit in our pants right there. Then we saw It.

Something, humanoid in form, was crouched in a corner, sobbing. It was rocking back and forth on its heels. It had very pallid looking skin, with what appeared to be lesions and cuts all over its body. It wasn’t wearing any kind of clothes, and it HAD NO HANDS. Where the hands should have been there was a kind of void… a blackness that didn’t reflect any light. It was completely oblivious to our presence. The light didn’t seem to bother it, and our cries of ‘HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT’ didn’t have effect on it either. It made a motion with its ‘hands’ and sort of dissolved away.

We got the hell out of Dodge. The next day we went to the local University’s library and did some research. It turned out that the home was part of an old slave plantation. Apparently the ghost was a slave that, while trying to escape, was captured. His hands were then cut off and he was used to pull plows around by a rope tied around his waist… since he was of no use with tools anymore.

Of course, none of the pictures we took turned out. They were all black.

devil may cringe

I have two odd experiences I thought I should share.

1) My maternal grandmother died the day after my fifth birthday. She was an amazing lady, but had a stroke and had slowly declined in health. One day when I was in kindergarten (it was around the beginning of the school year) I was sitting on top of the jungle gym just looking around the playground and I heard her call my name just once. It was very clear, and spoken, not yelled. It wasn’t a child’s voice, and I even looked for my teacher but she was standing across the playground and wasn’t looking anywhere near me. I always felt like she just wanted to let me know that she was still around.

2) One night my college roommate and I were driving in a very remote rural area near my current home (in eastern North Carolina). We were on our way to spend the night with my step-dad’s mother because our place wasn’t furnished yet and we had been in town for our university’s freshman orientation. There’s nothing around but fields and woods and the very occasional farmhouse.
I catch a bit of eye-shine on the side of the road in the ditch and slow down expecting a dog or possibly a deer to make it’s way across the road. I come to a stop and about twenty feet in front of us a large brown creature slowly walks across the road. It was taller than a full grown deer but much heavier built. It had long shaggy hair on it’s body, and a short neck. It had legs like a dogs but very long, and the feet didn’t look right when they touched the ground. The head was oddly shaped and looked like neither deer nor dog, but it looked straight ahead and I couldn’t see its face. It also didn’t have any sort of tail that I could see. It just sort of ambled across the road and was gone.
I took off driving again and neither of us spoke. Then we both looked behind the car at the same time to make sure it wasn’t following us. The next day I told my step-grandmother what had happened and how creepy it was. She just laughed and said that we should consider ourselves lucky, not everyone around here has seen it. Apparently it’s sort of a local legend that weird creatures live in the woods and over the years many people have seen the same thing at night. She had seen it herself nearly twenty years ago when she and her late husband were driving home one night.

iegan

Odd dream I had a year or so ago –

I’m wandering around my neighbourhood, aimlessly… walking in the middle of the street. Suddenly everything goes black, and a spotlight starts shining on me from nowhere (think Grey Council meeting room from B5), along with a circle of spotlights around me. Suddenly, out of the darkness, everyone I’ve ever known (friends, EQ or otherwise) starts filing in and taking their place under the spotlights around me.

I stand there, glance around.. and they all open their mouths to speak, but before anything comes out – they just poof into ash.

Then I woke up.

Oddly enough, this dream is tame compared to some others I’ve had.

Lincoln`s Wax

I dream of zombies. All the time. They’re never really bad in my dreams though, they don’t eat people, they’re just scary zombies. Some humorous and odd things have gone down.

One dream featured actual good zombies if you can call them that. We called them liches in the dream (nothing to do with WC3, long before it came out). They were generally the outcome of a disease. Some looked like humans with pale skin. The others resemebled mummies. We had a mummy one living in the house with us, and when the lich devouring frogs came to tide, we had to act. Fast. See, these are frogs, normal sized ones, but they eat liches. I was working with lich scientists to develop a weapon to use against them, in the mean time, the mummy-zombie living with us was almost attacked by a frog, so to protect him, I made him get in the bed with me and some fictional wife, he slept in the middle, somehow protecting him from the frogs. We eventually found that the frogs were allergic to Pepto Bismol, so we made darts and killed them. Everyone lived happily ever after.

Another dream featured a more traditional zombie, not too bright and rather scary. Somehow, he had gotten stuck in our house, we had no way to get him out, but you could keep a zombie confined with light, so we turned off the lights in the rear rooms and kept them on up front. He acted more or less as a scared animal trapped in a building, simply wanting out. How do you do this? Call vampires. Yup. Two of them came, one was a dashing guy and the other was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, conscious or not. They turned off all the lights and opened the front door, and escorted the zombie out. They then offered us vampire spit. See, it makes you super-duper strong for several hours. We all agreed that it’d be nice, and in exchange they could have some of our blood. So, they hocked up a clear goo that tasted like soda water, but it did indeed make us strong. The dream really didn’t go anywhere, but it was kinda fun.

I also have much more fucked up dreams. One featured the abandoned house next door being filled with wild, large cats. Tigers, leopards, cheetahs, ect ect. While talking to a researcher that was over there, my cat, Mr. Bean got out of the house and headed over to where I was, before I could stop him, a cheetah leaped out of the house and just devastated Mr. Bean. I was beyond pissed. I was beyond anger. I got ahold of the cheetah and beat the ever loving shit out of it, eventually killing it, Bean was still alive, barely, but he was ripped apart. Awake or not, I’d never felt so bad, so I went back into the house, got a gun and had to kill him. I woke up crying like a bitch and had to find Mr. Bean as soon as possible to make sure he was alright. Of course, he was, and so was I eventually, but there will be nothing but bad news for the person that harms my cat or does something to make me feel that way. I was also kinda mad because I really love cheetahs, they’re easily my favorite large cat, I’ve actually been around not-so-wild ones in person and they’re just amazing animals, but still… no one ever, ever fucks with my cats.

PainterofCrap

Six months afterwards, I was diagnosed with obstructive sleep apnea, which is when excess tissue in the throat closes the airway while you are sleeping, causing suffocation and, when severe, massive disruption of the sleep cycle. If untreated, it can kill, it is what killed John Candy, and probably a number of other relatively young people who have died of heart failure while asleep with no prior history of heart problems.

One of the side effects of OSA (which was not explained to me until some months after these events took place) is extremely vivid dreams, in color. What Dreams May Come kind of dreams; very real, very detailed.

Four months after his passing, I had the following dream:

I was suddenly in a place that seemed surrounded by fog, difficult to define whether I was indoors or out. There seemed however to be walls of horizontal, glass-fronted enclosures, stacked three or four high, in which people appeared to be sleeping in street clothes; the outfits appeared to be from different time periods; some dated from the 1800s. It was hard to tell as I was only getting glimpses through this white mist.

I was suddenly aware that my father was standing before me, dressed in khaki pants and a red patterned shirt. He was far younger than his 63 years; he appeared actually to be my age or possibly younger. He looked great; he was smiling and I could sense that he was very glad to see me; tickled, in fact. He never spoke, or opened his mouth; all responses were non-verbal: body language, facial expressions.

I was suddenly aware that time was desperately short, and that I was being given a very rare opportunity in a place no living person should be. My mind was flooded with hundreds of questions; I would never be able to ask them all. The clock was ticking.

I first asked: “How is your mother?” (My father’s mother died when my father was eight, and it was a terrible loss to him; he never discussed it. I felt as I grew older that this loss weighed heavily on descisions and behaviours my father made and engaged in, things that made his life, and my families’, a hell for many years.

He seemed very pleased that I had asked and indicated that she was fine.

“And your father?” (My grandfather had passed on only two years previously). Again, all was well.

“Is this heaven?”
No.

“What is this place?”
I was strongly aware that this was a question that he could answer; however, if he answered it, I could never leave. It was not yet time for me.

I said, “Dad, I know you did the best that you could, and I want you to know that I love you.”

He nodded once, smiling.

I awoke with a start, as though I had dropped six inches into my bed. I immediately woke my (freshly pissed off) wife, and told her what had happened. I could not speak eloquently of it; it all tumbled out and sounded wrong. She went back to sleep.

I spent the next several days thinking about this. I cannot overstate the impact this dream had, and even though I had many, many remembered dreams that were extremely vivid, none had the texture, the sensations, the presence this one did. All these years later, I remember it like it was only yesterday.

It was either:
a) vivid dream
b) something else

This is a picture of my father, taken in July 1968, age 33. This is about how he looked and was dressed, although I did not find or see this image (an Ektachrome slide) until the fall of 2000. (I do have memories, in my mind’s eye, of him dressed this way). (nope no pic)

HaB

When I was in high school (Fairfax, VA, in the late 80s) there was a neighborhood not far from where I lived, with a house in it that was the local haunted house.

It is known as Pigman’s house, due to the fact that sometime in the 1920s or the 1890s, or the 1950s (the time varies depending on who you hear the story from), the pig farmer who lived there went out to the pig pen/barn/paddock/whatever and took an axe to all of his pigs.

A few minutes later, covered in pig’s blood, he walked into the house, and put the same axe to work on his wife and 2 kids. He then headed up to the attic, where he tossed a rope over a rafter and hung himself.

So when one of those nights came up where there was nothing else to do, and all the rumored parties that were happening in other neighborhoods were thoroughly debunked, invariably someone suggested going to Pigman’s house.

I am a chicken at heart, so I have never been inside the now abandoned house. I can think of 2 notable trips to the house with friends that come to mind.

I played lacrosse when I was a sophomore, so myself and a few guys from the team decided to go to pigman’s one night. This was my first experience with pigman’s, so the whole ride over (15-20) minutes, they are regaling me with all sorts of fucked up stories about the place. Everyone brought their lacrosse sticks, since they sort of become the ultimate multipurpose tool, and are excellent for thwacking someone or something up side the head with. So we pull up to the house, and as soon as I get a look at the place, I immediately call dibs on the “I’ll keep an eye on the car” position. The other 3 guys spend a few minutes working up the courage to go inside.

The get psyched up enough, and sticks in hand, they go in. Now, I’m not worried being out in the car, because what used to be the pig farm and the land surrounding the house is now a rather affluent neighborhood. Pigman definately wasn’t poor either. The house isn’t a shack, it’s almost the size of those Gone With The Wind-esque plantation houses. So I’m just hanging in the car, humming a tune for about 10 minutes or so.

I suddenly notice some sort of commotion just inside the door, which my lacrosse stick wielding compatriots had left open. I can’t hear anything, cause it was Fall, so the car doors and windows are shut, so I wouldn’t freeze.

The next thing I know, the three of them come charging out of the front door, screaming their heads off. They dive into the car, and Mark jams the key in and turns the car over. Nothing. They are all shouting “oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck” as Mark is trying to get the car started. I’m trying to shout over the top of them to find out what the hell happened, and should I move into the pants-crapping stage of fear or not. The car appears to be flooded. There is an odd silence for a second, and we all look towards the door of the house which SLAMS shut. It almost sounded like a gunshot. The four of us all look at each other, and Mark turns the key again. Thankfully the engine roars to life, and we hauled ass outta there.

Once we had gotten a safe distance away, I started prodding them to tell me what happened. Apparently, they went in, and it was just like any old abandoned house. A few pieces of furniture here and there, a musty smell, and a lot of dust. Then they got to the dining room, which turned out to be the room I could almost see into from the front door being opened. There was a large dining room table there, and carefully arranged on it was upwards of 50 dead animals. Mice, rats, squirrels, and even a raccoon. They just about covered the entire table in neat little rows. Hanging from the beams above the table were tiny nooses in mouse, rat, squirrel and raccoon sizes, roughly one for each member of the table.

They were marvelling at this Altar of Fuckedupponyass when they hear a noise towards the kitchen. They look up and someone is standing there. This same someone emitted a low growl and came at them. They started swinging sticks and he eventually went down, and that’s when they got the fuck outta there.

I guess that’s not supernatural really, since it was probably just a vagrant who had taken up residence in the house, and had a fetish for killing small animals and making nooses, but still.

Also…to continue with the “large black dog” theme of the thread. On one trip to Pigman’s, we never made it there. Something disturbing happened on the way, so we decided to save it for another night.

I was taking three other friends, Scott, Janie and Heather, over to the house, since they had never been. So on the way over, I am relating stories I’d heard as well as the above story, so everyone is sort of eager for a good scare.
The neighborhood the house is located in is called The Chase, which just reeks of irony after experiencing the above story. So we pull into the neighborhood, and are crusing along really slowly, cause I’m trying to build the tension a little bit for the Pigman n00bs. Then we all look over to the left of the car.

Trotting alongside the car, only 7-8 feet away is quite possibly the largest black dog I have ever seen. It was easily the size of a full grown Great Dane, but it looked more like a Mastiff than a Great Dane. As we look over at it, it turns its gigantic head and looks back at us. No happy dog tongue lolling out the side of its mouth, just a stare, which we hold for a few seconds, then the car just sort of rolled to a halt, and the dog trotted off into the dark.

The entire car was silent for what seemed like an eternity.

I finally said “hey what say we save Pigman’s for another night” Everyone else mutters agreement, and we bust out of there. Almost the whole way home, no one says a word. Scott and I drop the two girls off, and we are heading back to my place to play Nintendo. He then says “dude, that was fucked up.”

“I know.”

We stayed up playing Nintendo until sunup. It wasn’t because the games ruled or anything. It was because neither of us would have been able to go to sleep, and I think we both knew it.

dissonance

First of all as a small child i had a ronald mcdonald glow in the card star with him sitting on top. Maybe it was some sort of happy meal toy; basically ronald sitting on top of the star. Well i was waiting for the toothfairy one night and i of course went to bed as soon as possible so the fairy would make with the bling bling. I fell asleep and then awoke in the middle of the night to find wome willothewisp type green thing floating above my dresser, about 1 foot in diameter. Of course i freaked out and threw the covers over my head and tried to rationalize what was outside of my bed. Then i remembered, I had that ronald mcdonald star on my dresser and it was probably soem kind of weird light trick with that. I awoke the next morning and realized that the star wasn’t even on the dresser, it was put away in my toy bin; in addition to that the figurine was possible about 2 inches big and the glow emitted by the floating thing was probably a foot in diameter.

Secodnly, not as long but it remains branded in my mind; it probably will remain there forever. I was about 13 years old and we were driving on one of our main streets here in hilliard ohio, called hilliard-rome road. This is a crowded place and you woudln;t suspect anything creepy. Well, my parents and i drive by this church that has a small graveyard in front of it. It is about 2 am and everything on the street is fairly silent. I look to the left as we pass the graveyard and i see two things dancing and spinning. Something about people dancing over grave stones is very unwholesome; especially when it was quite evident they looked out of place, based on their dancing, clothing etc.

Captain Juarez

Oh yeah, my ex gf’s daughter saw a ghost. They were renting a corner apartment overlooking a major intersection in a busy part of Seattle, and got the place for a bargain by the way. Anyway, she would find her 3 year old daughter talking to no one and so she asked who she was talking to, and hence the daughter said “the man”, and where “the window”. This went on for a little bit and she got freaked out and asked about it. Well, I guess like 60 years prior some guy jumped out that window and committed suicide. They moved. The End.

MrShnrub

Ok, this happened a good 2 or 3 years ago, before hand i thought that ghosts were a load
of horse shit…how wrong i was…..

Ok, so its Friday the 13th, and it was a bloodmoon…i dont know what tahts supposed
to mean other than the moon being red and creepy as fuck. Anyway….so me and
my group of friends at the time are up for some crazy friday the 13th fun…
So we head to the local graveyard at about 9:30 pm….
The group consisted of myself, kendra, nicole, justin, and lindsey..
We park at a street across from the graveyard, and right as we’er all working
up the courage to head over, kendra decides shes not coming, and she’ll stay in the
car. We all thought she’d be more afraid alone in the car, (reminds me of the pigman story earlier in the thread)…
So the 4 of us start our trek into the graveyard..
tombstones on either side of the road…lindsey and justin way ahead of me and nicole

anyway, we all see this thing at about the same time
it was a figure hunched over a tombstone, i yelled out to it
because for some reason it didnt occur to me that there
was anything wrong with the situation. (I probably yelled hello, but
im not sure) I jumps up from what it was doing, like we disturbed it
and started running, but not quite running…it was too smooth and
fast to have been running…..
Now, once we saw this, nicole (usually a very quiet, dignified girl)
starts running out of the cemetary screaming more profanity than i’d ever
heard out of her since ive known her…justin and lindsey start running and
pass me, im frozen. Seriously, i have never been so afraid in my life.
This all happened in the span of about 20 seconds…it stops running
right at the pavement, puts its hand on a tombstone, looks at me, not 10 feet away from me, and i start running like a madman, beat the other 3 to the entrance,
and didnt stop until i got to the car.

Anyway, to go back a bit…
this thing was a good 6 feet tall, it seemed have some sort of black cloak on,
i didnt see its feet, hands, legs, arms, anything, it was all covered…HOWEVER
i did see its face, which will be burnt into my memory forever…under its hood
was a very bright white, the only facial features being 2 dead black eyes.
Again, i didnt stay long to examine this thing..

Once we all make it back to the car, kendra is freaking out asking what happened
we only started telling her once justin started driving
Now, at this point i was so shaken up i was crying, as was lindsey…i cant
describe it, it was just pure terror….and im not one to cry at anything short
of a kick in the goodies.

I dont really hang out with any of those people anymore, but when we do see eachother we never talk about it. Last year when telling the story to
MassRayPer (who is from the same town as me), he declared shenanigans, defending
my story i forced nicole and justin to retell him the story..

A baby ate my dingo

I have really messed up dreams every night. When I was younger I actually used to be afraid to go to sleep because of my nightmares. My dream story is a recurring dream I used to have when I was 10, I had the same dream over and over, every night for about 3 weeks.

It would always start the same. I’d be in a house, sometimes my own house, sometimes the house I used to live in, sometimes a house I’d never even seen. I would be wandering around the house at night, long after everyone else had gone to bed. I could barely see the walls and other rooms because of the dark and I would have to fumble my way around looking for a lightswitch which I knew existed in one particular room.

I would then round a corner very close to where the lightswitch would be and see two red devillish eyes in the dark, in the many many times I had this dream I never saw the form of the creature these eyes belonged to. This part of the dream was always the same. I would be paralyzed and become freezing cold (I actually woke up a few times shivering) and the eyes would slowly move towards me while these horrible noises came from the creature, it was like hundreds of people screaming in pain, but at a low volume.

I wouldn’t be able to make a sound or move at all, I knew that if I could just turn on the light, everything would be okay and normal again. The red eyes would get closer and the screaming would get louder. Then suddenly I would be grabbed and jerked violently, like someone had pulled on my shoulders really hard. This really loud, almost panicked, voice would then shout my name and I would wake up, usually covered in sweat yet freezing cold.

I’ve got a whole load of really fucked up dream stories, the one above is pretty tame, but its memorable because of how long it went on for and because even now, 12 years later, I still get flashbacks to it sometimes when I’m dreaming.