Morbid - Episode 446: Listener Tales 72: Dream, Astral Projections & Alternate Dimensions

Episode Date: March 30, 2023

Sweet dreams are made of this.... episode! Or maybe not because some of y'alls dreams are wildin'. But who am I to disagree? ANYWAY! We got a folder full of all your craziest dream stories and alternate universe experiences and we're devouring them this episode. There are roads that exist and then don't, prophetic dreams, and a shared dream experience. The grand finale will blow your mind with an entire village/life/murder conviction. If you have a tale that you'd like to share please send it on in to [e-mail] with "Listener Tale" somewhere in the subject line :)See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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This is our treat. It's everyone's treat. It's just a treat. Treat, treat. Say treat again. Treat. Yeah, so it's a listener tale and I feel like it's been a hot second.

I know. I'm so excited. We haven't done them for a month. I know I miss doing them more often, but you know, that's the way the cookie crumbles. That's right. And here we are. We're doing one.

So today we're going to be doing a theme. It's Dreams and Astral Projections. Now, you might be like, what? But here we are. That's what it is, y'all. But remember when I told you guys that I asked people in my dream what day it was and everybody got real mad at me and it was real weird. Well some of you have also had similar experiences with lucid dreaming and I am so fascinated with dreams and lucid dreaming. I feel like there's something more to it that we can't understand. I kind of think that like you go to a different realm

when you're dreaming. I kind of love that. I think you might. I love that. I love that. I love that. I love that. I love that.

I love that. I love that. I love that. I love that. I love that. I love that. I love that. I love that.

I love that. I love that. I love voice. It's true, I do too. Like I'm hearing it. That's my memory. I'm hearing it. That's it. That's the only reason he's just his voice. His face is great too, but like his voice. A plus.

A plus. A plus. Chiffs piece. So I'm gonna do the first one. And this first one is called, wow, just kidding. Wow. Toxic. I'm bullying you.

Stop bullying me. So this first one is entitled, me and my kid had the same nightmare and lucid dreaming glitch in the matrix. Ah! So this one says, PDF attached. Old school smiley emoji, I love that. And I totally forgot to say my name,

but it's smally, LOL, it's fine to use. Thank you, Molly. Hey, Pod, Gurley's. First of all, I'm fine to use. Thank you, Molly. Hey, Pod Girlies. First of all, I'm going to do the mandatory fan girl thing. I'd say you can skip this part, trim it down, et cetera, but we all know what you'll say. Never! And she wrote that.

I wrote this one time with just the glitch part, but at the time I was pretty new to the listener tail portion of the pod. For some reason, I really slept on the listener tail at first. A lot of people did. Yeah. And that's okay.

It's not great. Because you all came and you all said, wow, I slept on that. A lot of people like to sleep on the listener tails. It's true. But now that I've come to the light, I'm resubmitting with Times New Roman size 14 double space PDF for your eyeballs viewing pleasure.

I'm out of girl. Exactly, you wally. Also, I can't remember if it was Ash or Elena who said this, but I was listening to one of your pods recently on that spooky, dukey Romanian health forest. And one of y'all said through it. It was me. One of y'all said you thought the words to radioactive was. Ready to rock you.

Ready to rock you. That was Ash. Always Ash. Well, I thought it was How did you think it was this ready? No, how I feel ready My late husband alive obviously alive at the time. I'm so sorry was like the song title is literally We knew that, Molly. We knew, but we didn't care.

So anyways, you're not alone. We were like, why is this song called radioactive? I love it. Ready to know how I feel. We're ready to rock you. So that said, obviously I lost my husband. I'm so sorry. Big hugs coming your way.

Before his death, I was a major true crime junkie. For a while after he died, it was sudden. I'm the one who found him, and I had to call 911, and all that fun new trauma shit. Oh my God. I know we just said I'm sorry, but like, holy shit. That's unbelievable. I can't imagine. I'm so sorry.

I couldn't really stomach true crime death-related things, or 911 calls, which was just not like myself as I tried and true crime junkie. I don't blame you at all. No, I don't either. And to be honest, I still don't like 911 calls. That's why we honest, we don't really, we never put the audio to them because I think that's a really vulnerable time in someone's life is making a 911 call. It's one of the worst things you'll ever have to do. And even like transcripts of them every once in a while we'll talk about, but they bum me out.

It's sad. Because it really is, you're looking at the worst moment of someone's life. Yeah. So I got that. Your pod helped me get my feet wet after he died. And ease back into one of my biggest interests while keeping it light-hearted and respectful.

And I love that about you guys so much. Thank you. That's like a really big compliment, it is. I know that shit's heavy to share, but sharing heavy shit here really do be the brand, so Ayo. But yeah, I just wanted to share how much y'all helped me get, helped me in getting me to feel more like myself after the hardest thing I ever went through.

More recently, I was diagnosed with this ultra rare Pokemon of a metabolic genetic thing called CPT2, which makes me super weak and causes heart issues. Blah, blah, blah. I did not say that. That's in the actual writing. Yes, don't cry for me, Argentina. I'm so sorry that you're having to deal with this, though.

I know. And anyway, now I'm getting some treatment. Yay. And less weak in trying to get into the gym and me, Alardass. Same. Thoroughly looks forward to the gym because you live in my ear holes for an hour and I get in Dorfins, slash dopamine, win-win.

I love you. I go for you, man. Yeah, it's hard to motivate yourself. It's really harsh. I ain't gone about two weeks. And it's hard to motivate yourself anyways, but motivate yourself when you're going through the trauma that you went through and also dealing with a loss.

That of like some disorder that you're dealing with that makes you weak, I can't imagine. Exactly. And it sounds like you have a kid and that's a whole other set of stressors and like busyness, you know? Essentially Molly, we think you're the baddest bitch. Essentially. Molly, the baddest bitch. Here's your comment. Boom. Anyway, enough about my trash pile.

We all got one. Let's give the people the weird shit they came here for. Recently, I caught the listener tail where y'all were talking about lucid dreaming by accident. And I remembered that you said to ask the people in your dream the date and time in your dream if you do lucid dream by accident and to report back. Well, flash forward to January 10th, 2023, in the year of our lot.

That's Drew's birthday. I love that, in the year of our lot. Short. I had a dream and that's how I know you're our people. Like just the way you were, you talk. I had a dream and I actually lucid dreamed, which I typically don't do. But I guess I was doing so because, hey, oh,

I had a kidney infection that had me waking up four times a night to pee and was disrupting your girl's rhythm in a big way. Kidney infections of a fucking worst. Perfect storm for lucid dreaming. Zero out of 10. Do not recommend trying it home. So for additional context before I actually get into this dream,

I feel like it's important to note that I have a desk job and stream true crime slash spook pods eight plus hours a day, well, I work commute in the shower for leisure, etc. and never have nightmares, not even after hours of streaming Jack the Ripper content. If you know, you know, or a file as I like to say, Aikik. I also need to provide some context that will make sense later. As a teen, I was sent to one of those make your troubled kid better camps that abuse kids.

Oh my God. Oh my God. I was held there for over two years in Wyoming and it was all around an awful time filled with abuse and physical punishments. That's awful. I've healed that part of my life and haven't had nightmares about it in a couple of years.

This happened over a decade ago. You truly are like a badass. You are. To get through all you have. That's why we crowned you. Side note. Alaina, I had a hardcore run in with a moose while I was there.

Oh my god. Me and the moose had a yelling contest to decide who got to keep the camp. I won and didn't get speared by a moose. So again, this was a win-win. Oh my god. You get better and better, Molly. Al a moose. So again, this was a win-win. Oh my God. You get better and better, Molly. Aligned by line.

What the hell? So back to the dream, I dreamt that I was working in a daycare. I've never been a daycare worker. I am, but a lowly insurances agent, hello. But I was, and I am a new employee at this daycare, but I recognize some of the faces there. No one's significant, but the one that stands out is just some random girl I worked with two years ago,

who smelled of cat pee and had clickety, clackety nails and a jacks-skillington backpack slash purse for every occasion, formal or otherwise. Huh, I love that. What a gal. What a gal. I realized I was dreaming, and in my dream, we were locking up the daycare and walking outside.

Some employees were already almost at their car, but I was bringing up the rear with a couple of others who were showing me how to walk up. I got outside the daycare and looked around and said to the people nearby me, what's the date in time? The people stopped in their tracks and were like, why do you need to know? At this point, I was like, nah, y'all bitches be shy, see? And I said very loudly, loud enough for the other people already at their cars to hear me. Does anyone have the date and time?

And everyone stopped in their tracks and walked back to me slowly, like freaking zombies or bots or some other third thing that is spooky, dukey and undesirable. I looked around again and repeated at a normal volume. What is the date and time? At that point, the person I used to work with looked at me and their neck and head twitched to the right like a malfunctioning robot and said, you can give me 10 push-ups for asking that. Why? This was extra strange because this is something that would be said back at the team camp I went to as a kid in Wyoming. I don't like that at all.

I got chills. My body did the warm. I didn't do the push-ups. Good for you. I just challenged firmly. Why won't anyone tell me the date and time? One of the employees looked at a clipboard and said, it's on the list. And another person looked at me and said, she's not on the list.

And then I woke up in a cold sweat about to piss myself. That is spooky, spooky. What the fuck? Part of me wonders if it's a nightmare just because of having remembered what was said in the podcast. But also, I listened to spooky pods far more gruesome

on the reg and never have nightmares about the content. So I feel like I just real life pissed off the simulation. I think so. That's what I felt. I think so. Because I didn't feel like I just real life pissed off the simulation. That's what I felt. I think so. Because I didn't feel like it was just something seeping into my subconscious. No.

I'm sure it seeped in for me to ask, but the response was too strange. Well, in a strange case, you didn't even know what the response was going to be. Yeah, I didn't want to know. And the only thing that I heard later was somebody got like a even weirder response. And my response was more just like,

people getting angry at me. Right. And then I kept switching into other like scenarios. And I just, and even John got angry at me in my dream when I asked him. So weird. I wanna do it. Yeah.

If you thought that was weird, hold on to your butt cheek sisters. It gets weirder. Hold on. For context on the second story about my weird-ass dream encounters, this happened a couple of months after my husband passed away. He passed in the bed in our home, so I had moved a new bed into the living room, so I couldn't, because I couldn't bring myself to go into the bedroom.

My girls were sleeping in their bedroom again at this point, and it was a catty corner to the doorless bedroom that was not in fact a bedroom. Additional context. I have no bigger fear than snakes. When I was in Wyoming, I was almost bitten by more rattled snakes than I can count. I live in Florida and have walked outside to find snakes sunbathing before and have nooped all the way back in my house home and jumped onto the kitchen table behind a closed door with the snake outside for safety. This is not a, she is not a slither in me as she. I'm a slithering girl. I am not.

Anyway, I fell asleep, aren't you a huff-a-puff? Sure am. Anyway, I fell asleep like any other night that I can recall from those days and drifted off to sleep. In my dream, I saw my youngest daughter, Ireland. Oh, I love that. That is a beautiful name.

The way you spell it is really cool. I love that. Ooh, that's really pretty. Then four, standing in front of me. We seem to be in some type of dense, jungly garden. She was almost glowing, just angelic like and precious, parental bias aside. Out of nowhere, a Python slithered into view

and began to approach Ireland as though it were sizing her up and it prepared to strike, detaching its jaw. Oh my God. Right as it began to lunge, I dove in front of Ireland because your mom reached my hand out and grabbed the massive no-pneudle by the neck. I'm so stoked, no-pneudle. I love that.

In my dream, all I could see was fangs and jaws and I jolted awake in a cold sweat. That's really scary. Now, I'm a spiritual person. I've had many instances of premonitions or encounters with spirit, especially my hubs who still hangs around for chats, and a joke every now and then.

Oh. When a dream is significant, I feel like it just hits different, and this one hit different. I know exactly what you mean, like you can't really describe it, but it does. It's got a different vibe to it. No sooner than I sat up in bed and began to process, I heard the bitter pattern of tiny feet running through my gaping doorhole

and bouncing onto my bed. Ireland said, I had a nightmare and crawled under my covers. I snuggled her clothes and said, me too, Nugget, do you want to talk about it? Oh. She thought about it for a moment, then said, no, do you? I smiled and said, no, I don't think so. Maybe another time. Oh.

Well, we eventually drifted back off to sleep and went about our routine for the day. The kids loaded into my late husband's car affectionately referred to as Bessie. Then eventually, Bessie. Then still later, struggle Bessie. We cranked struggle Bessie a few times than eventually bussy, then still later struggle bussy. We cranked struggle bussy a few times

and proceeded with school drop-offs, work, school pickups, returning back to our house. We didn't speak of the night before or our nightmares. We just went about our day. As I was cooking dinner, Ireland said to me, I had a nightmare last night. I stopped cooking and sat down on the kitchen floor to be at her level asking, do you want to talk about it?

You're such a good mama. I know. You can tell. You can tell. Like, you have a really good mama. And she said, yeah, I think I'm ready now. I asked her to tell me what was bothering her. And she whispered, I had a dream about a snake.

Ugh. Chills. I hugged her and said, oh no, what happened with the snake? And Arilin replied, The snake was about to eat me, then you saved me with your hands and a big push. Oh my God. I still have no idea what this dream means.

It feels super significant, but I have no idea what to make about it, and I think about it often. I don't even know how to effectively segue here, other than saying thank you so much for reading this. If it makes it on the pod, I will caca my pantaloo. So I love you guys, and thanks for brightening my day. Thank you for brightening our day.

Oh, and here's a follow-up shameless plug. Y'all inspired me to start a podcast with my best friend Toby. We are pre-recording now and can be found on Facebook and Instagram. We are called, don't tell my therapist podcast. Oh my God. And are in the recording stages, but we're about to drop our first episode, which we'll talk about Robert, the world's most haunted doll. And Carl Tansler, the doctor who mummified his patient and kept her in his bed for seven years.

There you go. So keep it weird, but not so weird that, but not so weird that you have the same exact dream as your daughter and then you don't even know why and you don't know it snakes symbolize in a dream, but I've Googled it for you and I'm gonna tell you in a second and then just like don't keep it that weird. But apparently snakes symbolize a person in the dreamer's life

who exhibits low, dirty, toxic, or poisonous behavior. So it's maybe it's like you saved your daughter or even like saved your family from some kind of toxic behavior. Look at that. I wonder if like did you cut anybody out of your life at that time or like, Ooh, I wanna know.

Or, I don't know, did you like avoid a job that you were gonna take or like something like that? Yeah, there has to be something. You know? Also, I just have to put this out here because you provided us with some photos. One, the cover art for your podcast is Magnifique. I would listen to that without knowing anything about it.

That cover art is elite. I love that cover art. I elite so much, Mikey, look at this. Holy shit. I am obsessed. Mikey has his entire mouth just like, oh, like, I am, I have, I can't. I'm so obsessed with it.

Also you and your husband are the fucking cutest couple ever your husband You're and I love you're calling him the OG hubs. Oh my god Oh, and he does it looks like an angelic vinyl album cover you and your house and then you said that your chapter Two John you took advice and found a quality good John. Oh my god like Like you are hilarious. You guys are adorable. I'm just like, wow. I love you a lot. I love you. Oh my God, and your girls.

I love you forever. Oh my God, stop it. And you and your friend. Oh my God, these children are fucking adorable. Molly, we're in love with you and your family and Snake Baby and all of it. Oh my God. And that means I think you did,

you must have done something that you didn't know you did. Yeah. So like to save you and your girls from somebody or something that would have been poisonous here. This is from the cut. It says if the dream was turned, do things start with how the dream made you feel. That will tell you how urgently

you want to identify the potential stress or in your life and address it. A snake within a nightmare is a very good indication that your subconscious feels there's a toxic person in your life that is an immediate threat, meaning their toxic behavior has reached a point where your subconscious level has had it and it needs to slap you into attention. There you go. I think that's what it is, man. So take a look and also take a look, Queen Molly. I'm excited to listen to Don't Tell My Therapist podcast because Holy Shit. I know. Let me see. I'm wondering if it has come out yet. And either way, I'm waiting for it. I'm gonna listen to it on the way home.

And if it's already out on the list anyway, don't tell my check. I'm gonna tell you if it's out. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, no. Not yet, no. Okay, no. We're waiting with Bated Breath. I'm waiting. Put it on your Toobie listens. Come on, Molly and Toobie, let's know this.

Molly and Toobie. That was such a good story, thank you. The best cover art ever. Oops, oops, oops, exactly. Okay. What makes a person a murderer? Are they born to kill? Or are they made to kill? I'm Candace DeLong, and on my podcast, Killer Psychie Daily, which you can find exclusively

on Amazon Music, I share a quick 10 which you can find exclusively on Amazon Music. I share a quick 10-minute rundown every weekday on the motivations and behaviors of the criminal masterminds you read about in the news. I have decades of experience as a psychiatric nurse, FBI agent, and a criminal profiler. On Killer Psychie Daily, I'll give you my expert perspective on cases like the mysterious New York City drugings

Breaking down Lori Valow, a.k.a. Mommy Doom stays motives and what drove Caitlin Armstrong to murder? I'll also bring on expert guests who add even more insight into these criminal minds. I promise you won't regret adding these 10 minutes to your morning routine. Hey, Prime members, listen to the Amazon Music exclusive podcast Killer Psychie Daily in the Amazon Music app. Download the app today. What if you were trafficked into a cult over shot nine times or fell in love with a vampire or went into a minor surgery and woke up one week later, paralyzed. What would you do? I'm Whit Missaldine, the creator of this is actually happening, a podcast from Wondry that brings you extraordinary true stories of life-changing events

told by the people who lived them. From a young man that dooms his entire future with one choice, to a woman who survived a notorious serial killer. You'll hear their first-person account of how they overcame remarkable circumstances. Each episode is an exploration of the human spirit and personal discovery. These haunting accounts sound like Hollywood movies, but I assure you this is actually happening. Follow this is actually happening wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to ad free on the Amazon Music or Wonder app.

My next one is called Listener Tale Glitch in Time and I can already see that it is a bordered PDF and I am literally so excited right now. Oh my goodness, it's bordered with spider webs. It sure is, and then there's a little spider on the slime. I love it, it's adorable. It says, hello. Attached is my tail about a glitch in time. It is about a 10 minute read, and is double as a double space puttafa also attached, is

my best Tinder pick, and my cat who helped me write this. I'm obsessed with all of you. That's a great Tinder pick. Your tattoo is Gorgina. Oh, is that Madusa? I'm obsessed with your cat. What's its name? And thank you for this. It says, welcome to your worst nightmare ladies. Oh, I'm excited. I'm obsessed with this border. OMG, hey, weirdos and spooky best friends, Ash and Alaina and Deb Deb. I'm Liz and you can use my name. I found your podcast him when you were only at episode five. Whoa. I especially like to listen when I'm Liz and you can use my name. I found your podcast him when you were only at episode five. Whoa.

I especially like to listen when I'm feeling down or off just because you are both so kind and genuinely good people. Thank you. And we share a love of all things weird. And it's nice to find a place where you feel understood. Don't listen to anybody about the underwater sound quality. I think bitch learned to swim because you guys are so. Thank you.

Thank you. I found you guys because of my long commute to work years ago. I hated driving and needed a kick in the pants to want to get in my car and consider my pants kicked. Hell yeah. I look forward to driving now, even in the cold winters of the Albany area. That's a shitty drive, I know that. Yeah. I work in an emergency room and I'm soon to be an emergency room nurse.

Oh, bad. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Another queen, ready? Here's another queen. Boop. Drinkle twinkle. Hey, me.

I said me. Me. I don't really know what that means, but it means something. It's magic, you know. But anyway, we can't explain it. Yeah, it's just me. And a few of my coworkers listen to. Hey, yo.

Elena, I swear your second book will be pre-ordered so fast the internet will explode us. The first one was amazing and I read it to everyone. Oh, thank you. The second book is really good too. I started writing it. And Ash, congrats on your engagement. Thanks. I've listened to all the listener tales

and love them all so much. You are also talented. Pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippie-pippP-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P- and I figured I would share. Let me set the scene. Also ADHD brain warning, I feel that. It's maybe 2017 and I was about 21 in my third year of college at a huge university. I'm talking like 30,000 undergrads. Damn, that was big. My major was medicinal chemistry because I wanted to be a doctor at the time,

but fuck that for real. I feel that's a lot of school, I feel that as well. Not long after this incident, I joined an ambulance crew and my goals changed because I realized I was in a adrenaline junkie. You're about us. Anyway, there were huge lecture halls with many people in each class, even the very specific stupid math ones, like this one class I was taking.

It was like analytical chemistry or something. It's a normal day in Buffalo. The sky's gray. It's still too cold to not wear a huge jacket and the wind is blowing your hair around and numbing your face. I'm there. I walk from my little apartment to class,

which takes about 25 minutes. I get to the room where my lecture is held and take off my big coat and attempt to fix my hair. Who am I trying to impress though? These nerds. So I forgot the hair and pull out my notebook. Oh, so I forgot the hair and pull out my notebook. Oh, so I forget the hair and pull out my notebook with my frozen hands.

I forgot gloves again today. I'm not one of those girls who prints everything out and writes notes on the provided lecture slides from online. That would be too easy. I have my blank notebook page and pen and take my own goddamn notes because my goddamn ADHD brain would never let me pay attention otherwise. It works for me and I don't know, I'm not a doctor at all.

I also never know what day it is, and I like to write the date at the top, so I flipped to the last page with the notes and see that the date was two days ago. It's a Monday slash Wednesday type deal and today's Wednesday. I scan the top of the page for the date and my eyes stop on October 18th. My brow creases, and the world stops for a second. That date seems wrong. I dig my phone out and touch the screen. It is October 18th today.

Oh, weird. I must have written the wrong date two days ago. So no big deal, that's definitely something I would do. I looked down at the rest of the page and read the first thing I wrote down just as the professor starts his lecture. It is word for word the same sentence he says, but in my handwriting, and I don't remember writing it.

What? I'm big confused at this point, y'all. He goes on and I already know everything he's teaching somehow, and I already wrote notes for it. Even the tangents he goes off on in the jokes he tells, I somehow remember hearing. What? He references a show that will be airing

a new episode that night or the next night that I also watch and tell me why I have a memory of watching it already. I'm looking around the big lecture hall and no one else is confused. This goes on and on and I'm just following along with pages and pages of already written notes at this point.

I would be in a cold sweat. I would be like, what is going on? My shit. There's even little pictures drawn in the margins like how all my notes are. The lecture ends and I turn to my friend near me and say, wow, that was weird. He literally gave the same lecture on Monday.

And she creased her brow and said, what? No, he didn't. That was all new to me. What? I would cry. I would just cry, cry, cry, cry. Oh, cry. It's been seven days since I last cried, but I would cry, cry, cry, cry. We have a sign. We have a sign in the potlod to see how many days it's been since I've cried. We're going on a meet-crate now, baby. So don't make me cry. So don't make me cry. Don't don't make me cry, Argentina.

So I turned the pages back to Monday's notes. And there they are, different than today's. I'm very confused, but also pissed that I didn't need to be on campus today, because I already knew everything. I didn't feel a deja vu feeling that I had experienced everything before. And I don't remember attending that specific lecture

before either, but I had all the knowledge and notes I would have acquired from going. That's a glitch in the fucking matrix. Yeah, the fuck it is. I never want to experience a glitch in matrix. Not like that for sure. Because I feel like I had gone around the band or something.

So the rest of the day was also not weird at all, except for the show that aired the next day. I watched it with a group of friends and I could recall that I had seen that episode before, even though it had never aired before. What? Walking Dead maybe? Nothing like that has ever happened to me before or since. I'm getting goosebumps right now just thinking about it. Did I travel to a new timeline or just pass through real quick? And I don't know what's happening, please help. Maybe a Liz from another timeline was just trying to help a girl out with these notes.

God knows I needed it. I'm very connected to the spirit realm and very often have paranormal Maybe a Liz from another timeline was just trying to help a girl out with these notes. God knows I needed it. I'm very connected to the spirit realm and very often have paranormal experiences, but this was just very different. I guess I just pushed it down where all my other emotions go, oh well, and decided not to process it, and then I eventually forgot about it for years. I figured no one would even believe me if I told them anyway, so I've kept this one deep inside.

Until now, hell yeah. Keep it weird, but not so weird that you get to class. Already have the notes because some weird glitch in the time, but you have no memory of actually taking said notes so you really should just have stayed home. I need to know what all that kind of shit is. Like I just need someone to be like, yep, it's a simulation everybody.

But they won't. But no one will tell us. They will never tell us. No one will tell us. It's scary. And it b a simulation everybody. But they won't. But no one will tell us. They will never tell us. No one will tell us. It's scary. And it bums me out. I don't like it. Oi.

Well, okay. We're gonna move on because that's scary and I don't wanna experience it. I'm freaked out. But we're gonna move on to listener tales alternate universe when my brother and I found a road that doesn't seem to exist. I am quite literally so excited. So we're getting better.

It says, hey, all the name is Joseph. Feel free to use it because this will absolutely earn me some big bragging rights that you choose to read it on the pod. Well, bragging rights achieved. There it is. First things first, I love the show. Your boy has ADHD. That must be the thing too. It has frequent episodes of hyperfocus of what Y'all's podcast has been the subject of since April of last year, excuse me. That's coming up on a record time for my obsessions. If you're wondering what currently holds the record,

it's Hamilton. Ooh. Same. At some point, I watched it on Disney Plus with my family and then started listening to it on Spotify during a 13 hour drive to Florida to work in the Everglades National Park. That's so cool. We saw a pelican come- oh, we saw a pelican kill itself there by jumping into a crocodile.

Oh no! But that's a story for another day. All right. Anyway, I became obsessed with Hamilton, memorized the entire thing word for word, learned pretty much every historical discrepancy between the musical and the actual life and events of Hamilton's life. My lovely wife even got me on the biography, Cherno, wrote that inspired Lin-Manuel Miranda to write the now-world famous musical and took me to see it in real life a couple of years

back. She's really the best. Oh, to your wife. Oh, that's to say that y'all really might beat my Hamilton's obsession record. Hell yeah. Anyway, I realize I'm rabbit trailing here. I've wished for a while that I had to tail to send y'all. So when you told us to send entails

of traveling to alternate universes, I got extremely excited because I have a chance to talk about this. I posted this on Reddit, on our glitch in the matrix. Some years ago, it's like a Reddit thread. Some years ago, and it ended up being talked about on a few YouTube channels posted on blogs, and no one really seemed to have a satisfactory explanation

for it. Well, shit. I've attached the story itself on a 14-size double-space putt of a per tradition. Enjoy. I love you, Joseph. This is going to sound like a load of crock shit, but I swear up and down that this actually happened.

About four years ago, closer to 10 now, if you're reading this in 2023. Damn. I'm confused. I lived in this fairly small splice spec of a town. At the time, I lived there for about 12 years, so I knew my way around. Our house was about a mile and a half away

from the nearest neighborhood. Our mom intentionally picked that house due to the lack of neighbors. Your mom and I have not encountered. It was tucked away. That was great. It was tucked away on a back road with the woods surrounding it. Every known then, I like to take walks with my little brother who at the time was about 13.

We decided to do just that. We headed up the road and decided to try a new path, or a new clearing that we hadn't discovered yet. When we noticed something a little shocking, just off the road that led almost directly to the neighborhood, there was a brand new paved road. Another wasn't. Every road in that part of town was gravel road. So seeing an out-of-place paved road was pretty unusual. We stared at it for a while and came to the conclusion that it must have been made within the last few days, due to the modern but slow growth of the town. However, we had no explanation for how they did it so fast. We decided to

explore it a bit. I remember as soon as we set foot on the road, the air became notably colder by at least five degrees. The road itself was a black pavement but no dividing lines. It was surrounded by some thick red trees that resembled red woods, but they were too short and non-native to our state, southern Arkansas. We walked on the road for about three miles until we decided head back due to a getting dark. When we got off the road, we felt the temperature go back up. My brother and I agreed to explore it the next day. Also, my brother ever so kindly reminded me that I left off a key detail when I posted this on Reddit some years ago.

As we were headed back, something kind of odd ran across the road. It stopped maybe 80 feet in front of us, and at first glance it looked like a deer, but after a moment, we realized it was something else. Was it a not deer? A not deer. But after a moment, really, we realized it was something else. Was it a not deer? A not deer. It had short, dark, very, or excuse me. It had short, dark, far, very large black eyes, and a mouth that looked for lack of a better description to human for comfort.

The body of a regular white tailtailed deer in four long legs. It briefly looked at us, lifted itself onto its back legs most of the way, sniffed the air, and then booked it into the woods. That was a not-deer. That was a not-deer, my friend. We had lived in the area for some time at that point, and thought we were familiar with the wildlife, but we had never seen anything like that that then or since then.

Whatever it was, I really don't think it meant to harm us, but more so wondered why these two hairless apes were gawking at it. Yeah, right. At roughly, because it was probably like, you're in an alternate dimension, my dudes. You don't believe me. What is that? At roughly noon the following day, we set back out to explore this place, only discover that the entire road was now missing. When I say missing, I mean the trees that were cleared to make it, make it had apparently grown back, with no sign of the redwood-like trees. We even began to explore the woods once more, but only to find no sign that it had ever

existed. When we asked our parents about it, they said they knew nothing about a new road work being done, Nero. What? I've searched and searched for this place, as has my brother. We even went as far as finding some older maps of the area, but nothing listed any road there. We did, however, ask some of the long timers of the town, and one gentleman that will

call Mr. A, said he thought he remembered finding a same or similar road as a boy in that area, but said he didn't think too much about it as it was many, many years back for him. Honestly, I'm stumped. I don't even live in that state anymore, nor does my brother, but we've talked about going back home at some point

to see if we can track it down once more. Maybe in the era of smartphones, we can actually get some photographic evidence. Thanks for taking the time to read this. If you all are ever in the greater Atlanta area, where my wife and I now reside, hit us up and we can tell you where to go that you probably won't have a stolen organ. Oh no, I don't want a stolen organ. That is so weird. It's absolutely terrifying. These are the kind of things that just like stump me. I just how do you explain these certain glitches

that it's like this existed then it didn't. I don't know. And people have had these things happen before. Like this is a very common thing that somebody will be like, I was here. And I remember things happening like that where I'll be like, I was here, and I remember things happening like that where I'll be like, no, I am 100% sure that there was a road here, there was something here. Well, and it's even like the Mandela effect. When you look at the Bernstein Bears, the Bernstein Bears, and it's like,

I was looking at a TikTok of it the other day, and there were so many of them, and I was like, no, that's not the correct version. It's not the Bernstein Bears. It, the Bernstein Bears get out of here. And then there's like so many other ones. Yes, it's fucking weird, dude. It is so weird. It's the government.

It's the government. I think it is. Don't shut down the podcast government. Oh my god, imagine. They wouldn't, because then everybody would know. Everybody would know. OK. You heard it here first.

Government? No, I'm just kidding. It's not even the government. All right. All right. Well, my next one is a gram locidy as a banshee or 9-11 morning dream. Damn, I'm scared. I'm assuming these are two different things. I don't know. It says, hello ladies, I've been listening to your podcast for over a year and I love it.

Thank you. Thank you. As a former prosecutor, I really enjoy your take on cases. It's refreshing to not hear the not-lawyer opinions on all things morbid. I wish more of the lawyers I work with had your common sense. You're thanks, I know.

Your witty banter really makes your podcast outstanding. I have an hour long commute and listening to you both take a deep dive into some of the gnarliest murders helps me pass the time as I idle and hew carry tunnel and mentally count down my days until retirement. I also love all things in the piece, so I really enjoy the episodes on the paranormal and the ghosts and the ghouls. My husband is not a believer, but I am.

And I have had some experiences that make me a true believer, especially in ghosts. I'm sorry, I have to readjust it. You might hear it. Okay. Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, even though I have a new chair. It took me a bit to want to write this tale because I cry almost every time when I think I'm sorry, I have to readjust it, you might hear it. Okay. Sweet, sweet, sweet. Sweet, sweet, sweet, even though I have a new chair. It took me a bit to want to write this tale because I cry almost every time when I think about what happened.

I'm dyslexic, so my spelling is even worse when I'm emotional, when I'm an emotional wreck. I proofread this several times, so I hope it's legible. Already, I'm like, what dyslexia? Yeah. I have attached here a double space putt of a 14 faunted times new Roman. Hell yeah. I would be honored if you read it on one of your listener tales.

You can use my name below is a photo of myself and Gavin at the last wedding we attended together. It has been 21 years since he passed away. Oh, I'm sorry. But you will always hold a special place in my heart. Keep it weird. Stay your awesome selves. Love Bridget.

Sorry, Jen. You guys are cute. You guys are cute. I love you. All right, you guys are cute. You're so cute. I love you. All right, let me see here. Grandma Cassidy as a banshee. I'm in. My grandmother passed away when I was eight years old.

I'm 54 now, so it was a long ass time ago. You are amazing. I'm the youngest of her 22 grandchildren. We are Irish Catholics, so every sperm is sacred. I am one of five. My mom's one of seven, and grandma was one of 13. Damn. You get them mathematically progression, and perhaps with each passing generation, sperm was deemed less sacred. Imagine if my uncle had not been gay. I might have been, I might have had even more cousins. Damn. His funeral is another great tale, not Spooky or Supernatural, just hilarious.

Maybe one day I will send in a putt of foe on that tale. It is a doozy. Why not? However, I digress. I was the last person in my family to see her alive. My grandmother lived in a neighborhood for just a few years before she passed away. I lived in my neighborhood excuse me. She just lived in a neighborhood.

She lived in a neighborhood. Just a few years. I was like, well, only a few years. That's not, she was living in the woods. Living in a moth. She had spent most of her adult life in the house where she raised her massive brood. One day, she was walking to her house from church

because it was a day with a whine in it. And of course, church. Church. And she was hitting the head with an object and robbed. Lod. She was in her late 70s at the time and was placed in a medically- Oh my God! Induced coma.

Somebody beat and robbed a late 70s woman. Think what the fuck is wrong? Are you on her way home from church? Gross. After this horrific attack, she was finally convinced to sell her home of more than 60 years and move closer to my family. She moved into a row house, a few blocks away from us. She was unhappy because she missed her butcher, her church, and especially the St.

Jerome's Golden Age Society and the Rosary Society because church. Because church. She did not venture out much, all, and was a little depressed. Oh, that makes me so sad. It was really hard. I just want to fix this for her. The day she passed, she uncharacteristically did go out. Oh.

She went to the bank and then she came to my grammar school. I remember it was a Wednesday because we had a half day. So the public school kids could receive religious instruction and the Rosary Society could meet in our cafeteria. Sorry to bombard you with all the Catholic stuff, but my mom loved her rosary. In fact, she often mistaken for a nun. Not the habit wearing type, but the groovy liberated post Vatican II polyester suit wearing

type. That type and the hug. You know, just that kind. And my pops love to complain about the long ass sermons. This is a favorite pastime among grumpy Irish Catholic men, truth. Any who. I was the teacher's pet. Yes, that one. Hermione had nothing on me. You're raising your hand like, do we have homework over the weekend? I was at a class

running an errand for my teacher and I saw grandma in the cafeteria. I waved to her and kept walking. I figured she was there for the Rosary Society meeting and I had a very important misive to deliver the principal and I was teacher's pet. I had a reputation to uphold, and I was a massive nerd. It's Levy O'Saw, not Levy O'Saw. I was happy that she decided to join the other purple here, ladies, for some still-crum-cake. Wheat coffee and a few rounds of Hail Mary. Hail Mary.

Hail. By the time I got home from school, she was gone. Satisfied. Was she dyed while unlocking her door, so we had to call the medical examiner. Oh. Grandma and I were close. I loved her costume jewelry and sleeping at her house

when my parents went out, which wasn't often, since my mom always wore a girdle, and it took about a week for her to get in and out of that bad boy. I slept in grandma's bed, and I remember being fascinated by her extremely sunken eyes. You know, same. They were literally in the back of her skull.

And then, think even further, when she smiles, she looks like the crypt keeper. I was terrified and fascinated. I'll let this same time. You're like, yo, my crema's eyes was teabed. I'm crying. Those eyes though, what a laugh is to Nana. Okay.

Just for it, we're into 2001. Oh, we should stop laughing. Oh no, it's 2001. Oh, yeah. That's so good. That's a good thing. Oh, we should stop laughing. Oh, no, it's 2001. Oh, yeah, that's so good. That's okay. Okay, okay. You were correct in saying we should stop laughing. Yeah, fast forward to 2001. It's important to note, I never dreamed about grandma until the year 2001. I live in New York City and in 2001, I was living with Gavin, who was a Brit. In the summer of 2001, my dad got very sick with cancer. I'm sorry.

He had his lymph nodes removed, and the surgery really took its toll. We were all really worried that he might not survive. In early September 2001, I dreamt about my grandmother. In the dream, my grandmother was lying on the floor of an all-white room wrapped in a shroud, and my mother was sitting next to her, sobbing. In the dream, I approached my mom and grandma. I moved the shroud away from my grandma's face, and she sat up and let out this horrific whale.

Oh! Her face was so contorted, she looked like the painting the screen. Oh my god. I woke up so suddenly that Gavin woke up, too. I was upset because I believed my grandma was trying to warn me about something awful. To my mind, she looked like a banshee, which an Irish folklore is a harbinger for death. That's just going to say.

I told Gavin about the dream and said, I think it meant that someone was going to die. He hugged me and told me that my dad was a tough old buzzard and he would live for a, he would live a long life. Oh, Gavin. Oh, no. And that was like such a sweet thing that he was like, I'm going to come for you. And now I see where this is going. Yeah. Oh, on September 11, 2001, Gavin got up early for work because he had a meeting. His dad was visiting and he was driving into Manhattan with Gavin to catch a bus to mass. Gavin's aunt and uncle lived there.

He kissed me goodbye and said, see you tonight. I fell back to sleep and got up about an hour later. At the time we lived in, is it BAYON? BAYON? BAYON, I think? BAYON, New Jersey. I worked in Midtown, but that day I had a court appearance in Brooklyn. I got to the World Trade Center where Gavin worked around 855.

I was in the mezzanine under the towers and heading toward the subway. I heard a loud pop. People started running and I had no idea what happened. A security guard ran over to me and told me to get out of the building now. So I ran out and across the street. The first tower was on fire and there was paper fluttering everywhere. I asked a man what happened and he said, plane hit the building. Oh my god.

I tried to call Gavin, but the cell service had cut. I asked the man, you think they'll evacuate the second tower? I was worried because Gavin worked in the second tower. He said, definitely. So I decided to hop on the subway and go to court. I thought that some untrained pilot like JFK Gage, Jr. had gotten confused and crashed their plane by accident into the building. That's what we all thought. I was a little distorted and took the train. I'm sorry disoriented and took the train going in the wrong direction. I got off at the next stop and went to the street level.

I saw all these people running up the street away from the towers. A woman grabbed my arm and said, run. And then I heard a very loud boom. A few blocks away, I found a pay phone. I wanted to call my office to tell them that something happened at the towers. And I was not going to make it to court

as I waited on the line for the phone. I heard someone say a second plane hit the second tower. Oh my God. My knees gave way. Someone grabbed me and all I could say was he's in the building. Oh, completely. Oh, you're going to like actually make me cry. Yeah. Completely dazed. I somehow made my way to the office. By the time I got to Midtown, the buildings had collapsed. We were notified in November 2001 that his remains had been recovered. I'm always grateful that grandma visited me and tried to warn me. You see, Gavin and I usually commute it

into the city together, but that day he had a 7 a.m. meeting. I used to beat myself up, wishing that I understood my dream better. You could never. Never. If I knew then what I know now, I would have tried to get him to stay home and commute with me.

He would be alive. You could have had no. No. You would have way of knowing him to stay home or commute and commute with me. He would be alive. You could have had no. No. You would have had way of knowing that. There's no way. One quick note. Gavin visited a priest in a vision. The priest was clairvoyant and often received visitors.

My cousin was on a religious retreat because church. That the clairvoyant priest was running. During the retreat, he grabbed my cousin and asked her, did you lose someone in our national tragedy? Whoa. My cousin said yes. And he went on to say, the person you lost was British and talks very fast with a thick, thick accent. I had some trouble understanding him. And then the priest went on to say, he wants her to know that he knows she tried to be strong and only cries when she's alone.

He loves her and he is safe and happy and has Ricky. Tell her not to be sad. Oh. Ricky was his beloved King Charles Spancon. Oh my God. Gavin carried a picture of Ricky on his keychain. That was the first thing about him that let me know he was boyfriend material.

Oh. On a humorous note, Gavin had a very thick northern British accent. No one ever understood him. I often acted as a translator. I proudly say that I am fluent in Cockney English. I will be very excited if you share my tale about Gramicacity as a banshee.

You guys are awesome and your podcast makes my horrific commute bearable. Stay loveably weird, love, Bridget. Bridget! I'm so sorry that you went through that. I am so sorry. That is horrific. We're sending you like the biggest hugs right now. Seriously, and the fact also that you went through that. I am so sorry. That is horrific. We're sending you like the biggest hugs right now.

Seriously, and the fact also that you made most of that hilarious I know. to that point, like you completely prepared everybody with like who you are. You're a true queen. So, oh, it's time. Time is your crown. Boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, crowns, did I? But damn, Bridget, that was like beautifully told. You and Gavin are beautiful together.

That picture is like, oh, I love you. I love you both. I love you both. Oh, I want to give you we have time for one more. I think so. Alright, let's see. There's a few here, so I'm going to see. Which one do you think I should do?

Let's see here. Um, I think the subject of a true crime story and another dimension. Exactly that one. I like it. I just happen to see that with like, it's perfect. Okay. Alright, hold on. You're going to have to vamp for a second. Oh my God, guys. What is up? This is a podcast that I host with my friend, Delina, who needs some help. She's actually my sister, just not my friend. Some of you think that we are cousins, some of you think that we are brothers.

Some of you are wrong, some of you are right. We are just two human beings. I don't know where else to go. We are just two human beings. Oh, man, okay. Here we go. I remind you of the America's Next Top Model challenge. She went like miles and out.

And she is like, not good. But she's incredible. And Joni is like, no one's amazing. And you know, yeah, that was good. All right, so this one, did it remind you of it? So this one's called, I'm a subject of a true crime story in another dimension. Please explain.

Yeah, that's it. And it says, you don't have to search. Feel free to use my name. Check the attached patefa. Check it for an eye-friendly version of the story. All right, so it's hello. I attempted to write, oh, wait, who's this person? It's Kayla.

Kayla, okay, I just was like, where's your name? Hi, Kayla. I attempted to write up a cute alliteration as a salutation, but honestly, it's 10 a.m. on a Sunday and I'm deep into depression, volume two. This time it's seasonal. So my only flavor of humor is dark roast. That's our old humor.

I feel that. A.K. a little too dark, a little too bitter, and it's pretty easy to get peer pressured into saying you like it. Any who's it, I'm Kayla. She, her, double Libra with an Aries Moon, because I know y'all like to know. I love you.

Double Libra. Hi, thank you both to, and thank you both into all the folks behind the scenes for bringing us the ear candy that is known as Morvid Podcast. My best friend Courtney, Capricorn. everyone needs a Capricorn Bestie. I like Seen. I agree. I love Capricorn.

We do. Well, they have a small hobby cast that looks at horror media and finds its parallel real-life true crime and scary stories. Oh, that's cool. It's a lot of work, slash stress, to create a podcast. But Courtney's a nice friendship was forged in the fire of working as servers at a big restaurant chain. And our early and mid-twenties and nothing, I mean nothing.

We'll bond two women together, like fighting in the trenches of young adulthood. Well, endless soup, salad, and breadsticks at the same time. But you work at the Olive Garden? You absolutely did when you're here yourself. You're a family. Oh, shit, you're a family. That's what you said. Like someone you're here, you're home yourself. Yeah, family. Oh, shit, you're my dear family. That's what she said.

Like someone you're here, you're home. That's the same thing. What if it was when you're here, you're home. No, but that's what Disney World says to you. They say, welcome home. They say welcome home and I say, I don't fucking live here. That's actually exactly what she said.

Happy to say we are out of the soupy ditches now and more than a decade later, still the best of friends. Do you like, does palm Cheese give you a like stress? It says, you don't have to read this part. Because sometimes there is such a thing as shameful self-promotion. But our cast is called nothing scarier.

And it would be just feel amazing to know that y'all know it exists. Nothing scarier, nothing scarier. Nothing scarier, it's a podcast. Courtney shared Jald podcast with me and demitified and jump in with two feet and Nariya K in the world for what diving into the bottom of more than 300 episodes of True Crime consumed

at breakneck speed could do to a person. Just imagine what researching a test to a person. Exactly. That was a few months ago and I'm just about caught up now. Only reason I haven't continued to rapidly devour episodes is that I shared J'all with my husband. Gemini, everyone also needs a Gemini life partner in my opinion.

I was waiting for it. And now we have to listen to episodes together. I mean, we could listen separately, but there's a partner rule there, right? Once a show goes from a my show to an our show, you've entered into a blood pact that can't be broken. I don't make the rules. You are absolutely correct.

You are correct. Thank you so much for all that you do, including delivering stories with a victim first mindset and bringing so much light and dignity to very often horrible and heartbreaking situations. Thank you so much. Thank you. If you all end up reading this on the cast, I might not ship myself, but I will have a full on existential crisis in the best way possible. As an air sign should.

So dear listeners, if you see a 30-something-year-old average-looking chick-millennial completely disassociating while shopping with headphones in, it might just be me experiencing an out-of-body moment in a serial aisle. I'll start breathing again in like five minutes, don't worry. Only one headphone in when you're shopping. That's right. I was listening to one of your most recent listener episodes, and someone called out for other dimension stories.

Specifically, they mentioned someone retelling the story of them, getting trapped in a dream for a lifetime. When I heard this, I thought, oh, I have one of those. What? So hang tight and don't let the bed bugs bite as I tell you why I might be the subject of a true crime story in another dimension.

Even since I was ever since I was very little, I've always had a tense relationship with sleep. My family has told me one of, and you know what, I feel like I should update everyone on this because people were like, how is it going? My youngest sleeps now. It's crazy. It's awesome. Her temperament. Totally different. So she sleeps now. She decided that she was over that whole thing and we were over in the beginning. So I'm glad that she joined us. Ready to join me. But thank you guys for, there you go. Knock on that motherfucking window. So you guys are asking, because people have been like, how's that going?

Are you all right? Yeah. So I appreciate you guys. But now you have puppies that don't sleep. I do now I have those, but you know, we've been conditioned for it. And they fuzzy. They fuzzy.

My family has told me one of the only ways to get me to sleep was when I was a wee baby was to allow me to lay on my dad's chest for a while, and listen to his heartbeat to fall asleep. That is the purest thing I've ever heard in my god damn life. There are a number of photos of me as a little human potato sleeping on my dad's chest, holding him hostage with a tiny mite that can only be wielded by a small, sleep-resistant child in a house with two absolutely exhausted parents.

Wow, I've never related to a sentence more. That's adorable. By itself, not being able to fall asleep without comfort as a kid isn't that odd, but as I grew up, sleep and I would still not find the right pattern for our relationship. As a kid, I was a night owl. Sleep just felt lucky if I was attempt,

it was attempt before 2 a.m. Oh, sorry, felt yucky. If it was attempted before 2 a.m. Oh, sorry, felt yucky. If it was attempted before 2 a.m. at the earliest, honestly still does. Side note, someone said my parents gift cards and gold stars because two of their three children shared a bedroom and could not have had more opposite sleep at. Oh, no. Where I am and always will be a night owl to the extreme. My younger sister, Avergo, is sunshine itself. Out like a light at dusk and up like the little beam of sunlight she was with the rising sun, not check.

I'm sure y'all can imagine the type of sister fights that can break out when the disruption of sleep is as constant and unavoidable as tax's death. And my sister's chipper joy at 6am. For real, the fuck, love you, Jen. Love you, Jen. I was around four or five when I started sleep walking for the first time.

I can have to remember one of the very first dream bleeds I had as a kid. I call them dream bleeds because while this one was scary, they don't always scary. Sometimes my dreams just leak out and show up in the real world. And the first, I love how casual that is. They just leak out. You know, just a dream bleed.

And the first dream bleed I can recall, I had woken up and found that all my stuffed animals were staring at me. Hate that. Every single one in the toy box peeking up at me, every toy on the floor rotated to have its little face pointing at me. Even my chosen bedtime companion, a care bear, they were all staring at me. Now, I was forish when this happened, so I don't remember much more than the eyes and

the fear at this point. Oh my God. But at some point, the eyes started blinking. And my underdeveloped brain screamed, run for it. I bolted out of the bedroom, fish flopped like a salmon running a river over the baby gate covering the entrance to our room and ran for my parents. Even as they sent me back to bed, I remember the eyes of my stuffed animals still following me. Sometimes the dream bleeds are like that and we'll hang around even after reason has called them out for not belonging there. That's a terrifying dream. I don't like it. We move to a new, I also love the term dream.

Dreamy. And I think it's a great band name. Hello Cleveland. We are Dream Bleed. Can we call it? Is it yours? I'm going to TM it. No, I'm just kidding. I'm just kidding. It's yours. You came up with it. We moved to a new home when I was five-ish and it was here with the dreams of, that the dreams of my village would start happening. What's it? In this dream, I would start sleepwalking more and more

to the point that latches had to be put up high on our screen doors or else I might escape into the night chasing one dream idea or another. Oh no! Like the time I walked to the back door late late in the night to go outside to go swimming in early spring in Michigan when we didn't have a pool. Or another evening when I decided I needed to go outside

and catch the buttons, whatever they were. I love this. Okay, core line. Honestly, nothing at this point really seems strange or unique. I was a kid with a shit sleep pattern while my brain was developing. The rational side of me is very aware that there isn't a lot of facts or measurables to pin the idea of me floating off to another dimension on.

However, I'm not sure what else this could be called. When I was six or seven in elementary school, but not the upper level yet, I started dreaming about my village. In my village, I was me internally, my internal monologue, my thoughts and feelings and wishes. But on the outside, I looked a little different. Whenever I went to my village, I would be lucid dreaming. Although at 6 or 7, I didn't know what that was called, it felt like I would go to sleep and wake up in a different place and time. My first visit to the village was scary. I felt like I felt everything like I did when

I was in my normal body, but the body I was in was just slightly different than mine. The skin a little darker, sun-kissed, hair a little shorter. The one time I saw my village face in a mirror, it didn't look like me. Oh, that's all like that. I looked like I was a relative of non-dreamy, but my features were all different. Seeing my other face made me so sad that I never looked in a mirror again when visiting the village, and for a long time, if I suspected I might have a dream bleed going on in the real world, I'd avoid a mirror until I could have confirmed I was fully awake. Interestingly enough, this has led me to be able to navigate my house confidently in

the dark, especially during late night trips, bathroom trips. No light means no mirror in chance to see my other face. Old habits die hard, I guess. Side note, I needed to take a break here for a minute because honestly, I missed my village and my friends there and I didn't realize that it would make me this homesick to write about my village. But that's not very tough, rational,

totally chill boss babe of me, so let's get back to it. Over the years, over the years, from six years until I was in my mid-twenties, most often, is most often when I dreamt, I would go to my village. I would still have regular dreams, but from six on in my life, I very rarely have a dream where I'm not aware I am dreaming.

I can choose pretty easily to take control of my dreams if I want to. And don't frequently, because as an adult, I've learned that this is what triggers night terrors and dream-breathing, please. For almost 20 years in my life, I built a life in my village. Whoa.

That's really fucking cool. You have Minecraft in your brain. You have the Sims in your brain. Yeah, that's the generational difference. I was like, no. Here's the generational difference. You got the Sims. I knew my house there, which I shared with other visitors.

Whoa. I knew the neighborhood and the people who worked for the village. Did you hire them? I say village because it was small in a valley surrounded by trees. There were landlines, but no cell phones. Even after cell phones were common in the real main world, when I visited, I could walk around town with my village friends or by myself.

I was always around the same age I was in real life, and typically had the same ideas I would in the real world. That is nonviolent ones or ideas of theft or destruction. Got to hear it! One time in my village, I stole something from someone's house. Not glad to hear that. Being that I was aware I was dreaming, a visitor and a teenager at the time, I didn't think anything would come of it.

That was until the sheriff rolled up and took me to the station. He told me I needed to be respectful to the village, even if I was a visitor. He told me that because this visitor, village had visitors, they had to be even more strict with the laws. Otherwise, the people that belonged to the village

would be in total chaos. What? It seemed reasonable to me. There were the people that lived in this village and they needed the people that visited from the real world to be respectful. The sheriff told me that they've had to lock visitors up before and even execute them to stop them

from harming the village and that if he wouldn't want that to happen to me. I've had enough. And she wrote fair enough. Having the fear of the local law enforcement slammed into me, I went back to my regular visits and was respectful to everyone, visitors and residents alike. You might be wondering at this point, how does it all go wrong? Turns out it all goes wrong pretty spectacularly with a lot of blood, some time served, and

what I think was my execution. Oh my God. I should say here, for the sake of, again, of trying to be rational, I have a very active imagination, a constant monologue, a touch of mental health issues, and if you believe my free U-page, probably some neuro-spicy symptoms. This is very relatable. You know what? Same.

I think you're just an air scientist. My real life during this time was touched by violence, death, and the divorce of my parents. Honestly, this was good for everyone involved, though. You feel me. And a number of other consequences for the reckless behavior one can develop as they grow up in a world as steady as house of cards during an earthquake. It's very possible that just like a dream bleed, I had a reality bleed back into my village dimension,

bringing with it some of the issues I was dealing with back into the main timeline. I certainly hope so because I don't think I committed the crime they found me guilty of. Holy shit. One visit to my village in my early 20s, everything would change. I woke up, quote unquote, in my room,

in the cabin at the top of the northernmost hill in the valley. My village room was covered in plants and had far too many windows for someone who typically slept in well past sunrise. It was beautiful, though, and the bed was comfortable. Waking up in the village is really the only time I can remember waking up feeling rested. As a reminder, when I was in the village, I could feel everything like I do when I was in the real world. I could hold my breath, swimming with friends in the nearby river, gravity applied,

and I could feel my feet hitting the earth. This place was either real or the most realistic dream to ever recur. This is crazy. I am fascinated by this. But again, the best way. On this particular day, I put up, oh my God, is that you?

It was shy out of me. Let's get me too. Sorry, everybody, that's my phone. I thought I turned it on salad. I think I turned it on to show everybody my text tone. Oh my goodness. I apologize. Crazy girl.

I wanted to show everybody my pinhead text tone. So yeah, on this particular day, I put on my brown hiking boots and walked out my bedroom door in a hurry. When I got to the hall, there weren't any other visitors there, which was a little odd, but wasn't any cause for concern. I walked down the flight of stairs that led right to the front door and out into the day.

Everything was silent. No birds, no people walking on the street, no bugs in the air, no one mowing the lawn, nothing. I remember feeling very, very unsettled. I'd been scared in the village before, but nothing like this. I decided to go to the neighbor's house to see if they were home. I wish I would have gone back to my village room and watered my plants. Maybe then I'd still be allowed back.

Oh my God. I want to... This is just like fascinating to me. I went to my neighbor's house, a lovely woman and her husband lived there with their dogs. I never remember exactly how many. The door was unlocked and I was very, and I very stupidly let myself in.

When I walked into the house, all was similarly silent as the world was outside. My fear grew, but with it something different. Now, like I said, when I was here, my feelings were my feelings. I controlled my actions. It was me. But just then, walking into the silent house

of my kind neighbors who had been there since I first visited as a child, I felt rage. Rage like I had not felt before in my real life or in my village life. It was compelling and soon I felt like it was controlling me. As I walked further into the house down the long hall that was characteristic of all the homes in the village, regardless of their design style, my boots started slipping and something on the floor.

Oh no. Trigger warning for gore and implied violence, y'all. I walked into the living room and saw everything that had been splattered and blood, spray up the ceiling and the walls and puddles on the floor. The rage I had been feeling took over then. It was my body and my village, and I was no longer in control. I started smashing photos on the walls,

turning over furniture, throwing things out of cabinets. I remember running up the stairs and in and out of the bedrooms, covering any mirrors with whatever I could find before destroying the rest of the rooms. A few things to note here. I never, and very thankfully, saw the bodies of my dream neighbors, just blood. And I had never before this visit not been in control of my dream body here at the village. Never. After the destruction of the house, a number of villagers arrived at the front door. I'm not sure how they got there or how everyone knew to come, but they were

there. And suddenly, I was in control again. Fear took over and I bolted into the woods. I felt like I was running for my life, which was silly because I knew I was dreaming, right? Eventually, the villagers caught me and arrested me for the absolutely heinous murder of my friendly dream neighbors. For the next two years, anytime I would dream about the village, which was becoming more and more rare, I would be in a cell jailed and awaiting trial for the murders I swore I didn't commit.

What the fuck? My visitor friends would visit me in jail and tell me of all the things that they were doing to try to get me out. Eventually, they would stop showing up. This story is already very long, but in the interest of brevity, I'll jump to the last time. I remember going to the village, which was now really my cell. I woke up. This time in prison, I'd been convicted while I was in the real world, it seemed. I sat up over the side of my uncomfortable

bed and looked around the room. No windows at all here in the prison, but they did give me a paper and a pen to write with. I was doodling, thinking about what I had to do in the real main world at work tomorrow when the sheriff came in. He sat down and told me my last appeal didn't go through, that I would be executed the next day, and that he wanted to come down to talk to me about it. As a reminder, I'd been visiting the village as a prisoner for years now, and had several times been told there was nothing they could do reminder, I'd been visiting the village as a prisoner for years now and had several times been told there was nothing they could do. If I was guilty, the price was execution. At this point in my life, sadly, my other dimension dream village had become really boring

way to pass my sleeping hours. I had lucidity, but no freedom. This is so wild. This says, I feel like you need to write a book about that. Truly. I remember the sheriff telling me he was sad for me and that he'd miss me. The only things I recall from the case

was that they had my dream boot prints in the blood. I'd been found unseen as a visitor I had no alibi and there were no other visitors at that time. The case was open and shut. The rules, the rules, as I was warned years before, would be enforced one way or another. I told sheriff that I would miss him in the village. I told him about the controlling rage and he nodded as if this had happened to others before. I woke up to my alarm for work before

I got to say a proper goodbye, but I made sure the sheriff knew I knew it wasn't his fault I might not be back. And I never got to go back. I have memories of the village of my neighbors, my plants, and my adventures. I wonder sometimes if I'll ever run into another visitor in my, to my village in the real world. Not sure how they would recognize me, but I like to think we could prove to one another that this place exists.

Maybe I shouldn't call this world the real world though because the village was very real to me. This would be just the one I'm tethered to and would come back to. I like the life I've built here too, but man do I miss my village. Nowadays I choose to not take control of my dreams. If I ever have a dream bleed, my safety net is asking my husband if I'm awake or not. Thankfully, he never uses this vulnerability to mess with me and quickly lets me know if I'm in the real world or still dreaming.

There are many, many ways to write off my experience as a dream world escape and truly not another dimension. I entertain this and some of the other theories that have cropped up to explain my village to me over the years. As much as I entertain possibilities, my heart knows that this place exists out there. I feel homesick for my village and my friends there and wish deeply that I could find a way to clear Dream Me's name or bring me back to life on that side. But hopefully, if a true crime podcast exists in the village now, my case can at least be a tantalizing story of a possible wrong conviction, or used to warn visitors to go back to their

room if they arrive in the village to a strange silence. I hope the fate of my dream me, I hope the fate of dream me at the village is a hotly contested controversy that the village folks still chat about to this day. I hope the sheriff that warned me never felt guilt about the outcome and that any family of my dream neighbors feel they did to get justice if it means they'll be a piece. Lastly, I hope you've enjoyed my story and if you ever find yourself waking up in a small village in a beautiful valley, you take a walk up the northernmost hill to the large cabin on top.

While you're there, please water my plants for me. I don't think they've had a drink in a while. Sending love, Kayla. That was. I just got full chills. Absolutely captivating. I'm not kidding, Kayla. Write a book. Write a book. I won't show out of that. Make'm not kidding, Kayla. Write a book.

Write a book. I won't show out of that. Make a TV out of that. I'll back you up that that is your fucking story. If anybody tries to steal it, I will literally go crazy. Mother fucking Kayla TM. Kayla TM, that is.

That's one of the most captivating stories that we've ever gotten on this podcast. And when you just ended that, with if you ever wake up in a small village in a valley, walk up the northernmost hill to a small little garbage, a large cottage, excuse me, you water those fucking plants. Cause I don't think they've had a dream. I'm beyond words. Like that is, that is the most haunting shit I've ever heard.

I believe your village exists. It does. I've never heard anything like that before. Guys, I can't wait to go to sleep tonight. What the fuck? I've never heard anything like that before. Never in my GD life have I heard something like that before. We go in there.

But I will have dreams that like do you ever have a dream that you know you've had before? Yeah. Yeah, like I have had that before. I wonder if that's like a, like a, you know what I mean? Fuck, that's a village. It's like that game's second life. Lost me there.

It's like literally, I only know of it because they had like an office plot line about it, but it's like a real game called Second Life and it's like basically Sims kind of thing. Yeah, yeah. But you make like a whole life and it's like that's what your Second Life. And it's like, basically Sims kind of thing. But you make like a whole life. And it's like, that's what your village was. That is your village was. That is your village was. That is your village was. I'm like, that was the perfect one day.

I'm just shook by that. Wow. Truly. Wow, we cause that. Damn. Alright, damn guys. It's time for us to go to sleep, holy shit. So thanks for those listener tails because... Yes.

Damn. You just rocked us. Yeah, I don't have words left, so I'm just going to say the usual. Thank you for listening and we hope you keep listening and we hope you keep it weird. Just as weird as Kayla. Yeah, keep it that weird. Just as weird as Kayla with the song. That's awesome.

Damn. Shit. Oh my god, Kayla, we forgot to give you your crown. Are you ready? Oh, boop, boop, boop. Duh. Hey, Prime Members! You can listen to Morvid, Early, and Add Free on Amazon Music. Download the Amazon Music app today, or you can listen Add Free with Wondery Plus and Apple podcasts. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at Wondery.com slash survey.