Morbid - Episode 558: Listener Tales 85

Episode Date: April 25, 2024

Weirdos! It's Listener Tales, and they're brought to you BY you, FOR you, FROM you, and ALL ABOUT YOU. This week's episode is brought to you by... DREAMS! We hear about a ghostly soggy nighttime visitor, a story about getting sucked into a void by a dying relation, a dream town with the clocktower, a dream about the previous owner of a house who has passed on, and a weirdo who inadvertently astral projected!If you’ve got a listener tale please send it on over to [e-mail] with “Listener Tales” 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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voices and celebrity talent like Brendan Fraser and Luke Kirby's latest sci-fi adventure The Downloaded. A first listen is waiting for you when you start your free trial at audible.ca. be the same. You can listen to Shinook exclusively on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple podcasts, or Spotify podcasts. Hey, Weirdos. Are you guys ready for a live stream event, baby? Well, join us on May 1st at 4pm Pacific, 7pm Eastern for a special live stream event presented by our friends over at Audible. Catch it on Wondery's Facebook, YouTube, and Wondery.com slash morbid live. Hey weirdos, I'm Alaina. I am Ash. And this is Morbid.

And it's a listener tales episode which means that it is brought to you by you for you from you and all about you, baby. Hell yeah. We love listener tales. Listener tales. Listener tales. And today's are today's going to be very dreamy. Yeah, buddy.

You guys really liked them. We did too. So I'm glad you guys really liked the when we did that like astral projection and dreams kind of vibe. That's exactly what this is. So that's what we're doing again. Because I know we're all thinking about that dream village. Oh, still. Right.

It makes a comeback. It, you told me that. I picked Fools in our Tales today. Yeah, like you told me that and I was like, holy shit. Because I've been thinking about that Dream Village story forever since I heard it and I can't stop. It felt like a dreamy listener tale was due. Yeah. Our cases have been like super duper heavy lately. Yeah. I mean, they're always heavy, but like it's, I mean, we just covered Ed fucking Dean. So we've been going real

hard. So let's go to a place of dream. Let's get dreamy and real spooky and weird with it, guys. Let's fucking go. And my first one was written specifically for me, I feel. It's called Listener Tales. Stevie Nicks and my sleep paralysis goes to yeet my hair from my head. So that drew me in immediately. Hair and Stevie Nicks. And this one, I think I can say their name, it is Nikki.

Nikki! It says, hi Ash and Alaina, I have been listening to Morbid for years and as a true crime addict, I recently ran out of murder episodes to listen to. Since I truly enjoy your banter, I decided to give listener tales a try today. Blanche agrees.

She does. Here in LA, we are stuck inside experiencing our first hurricane. And as if that weren't enough, we were also blessed with a brief earthquake this afternoon. Whoa, guys. We just had an earthquake on the East Coast. Which like never happened. Literally never. That's weird as fuck. That is weird.

I picked these the day before yesterday. Yeah. That hadn't even happened yet. Whoa. I mean, I guess that's not weird because you're from LA because they happen like all the time, but it's weird that we had one here today. It's weird that it lined up and that it's the first one we're reading. Yeah, no, that's a lot. That's real weird.

I got a little bit of chilies. The perfect day to stay in and listen to other people's freaky ass stories. I agree. Hearing all these stories reminded me of the weirdest, most blood curdling thing I have ever experienced. So here we are. My name is Nikki, and you can use my name. In this story, we'll refer to the other person as Stevie. Stevie. As I mentioned, I live in LA, but at the time of this event, I was taking a break from the city and lived in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio for part of a year. I was dating a woman who was a young single mother of a toddler, and she lived in one of the worst neighborhoods in Columbus. The house

was small and poorly built. You could see light coming through the thin walls where they met the floor. Everything was falling apart. It had super spooky vibes, like a former trap house, possibly haunted, ick. Her son also had creepy vibes. I always locked our bedroom door at night in fear that he would show up standing over me with a kitchen knife or something. Not to mention, a few months after dating, I'm pretty sure his mom, my girlfriend, was an actual goddamn witch. I mean, she was definitely a self-proclaimed witch, and she would do seances and rituals and stuff quite regularly. She was dead ass about all this and wouldn't let me see what she was doing. One time I literally crept downstairs and peeked at her doing one of those rituals in my dining room where she

had scooted all the furniture away and had a bunch of candles and herbs arranged on the floor. Sounds great. It really does. She was sitting in the middle of it with her eyes closed talking to herself and I went ahead and went back upstairs. Probably smart. Definitely smart. She was also just kind of generally nuts so I didn't take anything she was doing too seriously. But after some time, things started to get real weird and smart. Definitely smart. She was also just kind of generally nuts, so I didn't take anything she

was doing too seriously. But after some time, things started to get real weird. And after this incident that I'm about to get to, I became a full-on believer in her witch abilities. So ever since I was a little kid, I've had a horrific time when it comes to trying to fall asleep. I was always terrified of the idea that inevitably I would die one day, as we humans do. I'd have this wave of heat and chills at the same time wash over me, and this crushing full-body realization that, holy shit, one day this body I'm in is going to be dead, and it will have to be buried or burned. Oh my god, I want to puke.

Oh, that is stressful. Yeah, I think about that a lot. That's why I picked this. It would take me hours to fall asleep because I'd just be laying there thinking about death. As I got older, I got a little bit better at blocking out these thoughts and they became far less frequent. But one night lying in bed in the spooky old trap house next to my Stevie Nicks wannabe

girlfriend, it was happening again. Full body vibrating with the fear of death. And I'm just laying on my back with my eyes closed, wishing I could think of something else. I didn't tell her what was going on with me. She was facing the wall with her back to me. I figured she was already asleep. A few moments later, I felt her start to flip over to face me, when she let out the most

disturbing yelp I have ever heard. She pulled the blankets over her face and began sobbing, saying, no, no, no, no, no, oh my God, please no. Oh, geez. I shit my pants and screamed, what? What in the actual fuck? She wouldn't answer me. Just kept sobbing after what felt like 10 years, but was actually probably about three minutes. She said in between sobs, you really don't want to know. I promise. Oh no, you can't do that. I was like, bitch, I most certainly

do need to know what the fuck just happened. She collected herself and proceeded to tell me that when she rolled over, she opened her eyes and saw what looked like a soggy dead old woman hovering horizontally over my body facing me. I'm sorry. It's the soggy for me. It was the soggy for me. Soggy for me.

Why is that woman soggy? Why is she soggy? I don't like it. I don't like that at all. It makes me think of Dave and Mikey introduced us to that movie. Talk to me. Yeah. No, immediately. I'm the same thing thinking of that lady. That's a soggy lady. Can I tell you a just quick, quick brief move over here? Yeah. I have been afraid of that woman ever since we watched that movie and I have a long hallway.

And whenever I walk down it, I'm afraid that that lady's just like crawling behind me. Oh my God. Yeah. It's affected me. It's affected me. Damn. Great fucking movie. It's a great movie. It's wild. And that's, I think of that lady.

That's exactly, that's exactly what I thought of. Soggy ass lady. Because when she, when she crawls into the bed. Yeah, no, I hate that. I hate that a lot. But watch that. It's, it's um, I hate that. I hate that a lot but watch that it's it's um 824 isn't it? Yeah, it is. Yeah, and we got the hand from it. Yeah, not the real one. No, I'm never As we finished the movie I was like, I'm never touching that thing again. So it's it's now with Ouija boards for ash Yeah, no, I'll touch that shit. We're gonna have guests that come in the pod lab though sign the hand

Yeah, so I already know that but again never gonna have guests that come in the pod lab though sign the hand. Yeah. So, you know? I already signed it, but again, never touching it. Yeah, Ash signed it. She signed the deal with the hand. But I only wrote my first name, so it's not even real. All right. Well, Nikki said, I thought I had full body chills before.

Now it felt like my guts were literally falling out of all my orifices and I might as well go throw myself into traffic. Wow. This was my first encounter with any kind of paranormal thing, and I was really not a fan. Imagine not being your first fucking interaction with the paranormal. Nah.

My head was buzzing with the idea that what if my entire life I've had this soggy dead bitch hovering over me while I'm trying to sleep? The soggy dead bitch. Next line, does this mean I'm going to become a drippy old ghost bitch one day? Is my future one of moist, this is my favorite, is my future one of a moist meemaw, a damp granny?

Am I going to- A moist meemaw, a damp granny? A moist meemaw is my favorite. Am I going to start being able to see this shit now? If so, I'm never going to sleep again. Of course, there was a skeptical part of me considering my wannabe witch girlfriend was mistaken, but I could not get past that blood curdling scream she let out. Also, the fact that she had no idea what I was laying there thinking

about made it just too hard to dismiss. I don't blame you. But alas, I've never seen my wet ghost visitor with my own eyes. I've also gotten way better at not thinking about dying. In fact, in a way, I think somehow all this has made me less afraid of death, obviously, or I probably wouldn't be listening to morbid all day. Not long after I broke up with Stevie Nicks from Wish and moved back to the West Coast, it was not a very pleasant breakup. Shortly after I moved, she called and cursed me over voicemail. I don't remember exactly what she said, and I'm pretty sure she was kind of speaking in

tongues at one point, but it gave me the chills and I deleted it. A few days later, I was at work and a giant patch of my hair fell out. I'm talking a golf ball sized chunk of hair just detached from my motherfucking head while I sat at my desk. Mind you, Stevie Nicks wasn't a full-time witch. She was also a hairstylist. Was it Ash? It was not me.

Were you dating Ash? No. And this felt, I've never seen a dead, soggy woman hovering over any of my past partners or current partner. You're like, my current partner. I'm like, don't worry, husband, I haven't seen that. And this felt all too personal.

Some may say I had alopecia, but I believe I was cursed. I'm just glad she didn't send moist meemaw for me. Moist meemaw! Moist meemaw. It's my favorite. P.S. I started trying to write this story on my phone, but somehow it deleted itself from my notes app, completely vanished, which has never happened.

And when I sat down and tried to use my computer to write this, it began malfunctioning and disconnecting from the internet for seemingly no reason. It seems as though Stevie and Granny are still here fucking with me and my shit. Damn. PPS, keep it weird, but not so weird that you start dating Stevie Nicks from Wish in an old trap house where drippy wet meme-all ghosts hover over you while you're trying to get some shut eye away from the potentially murderous toddler, and then you break up with the witch and she makes her hair fall out via voicemail. Bye.

Wow. Nikki. Nikki, you went through it, baby. Nikki went through it. Also did your, like, did all of your hair end up falling out? Yeah, like, are you okay, Nikki? Did it come back? I need to know, Nikki. We need an update, Nikki. I need to make sure you're okay. Honestly.

I need to make sure that you haven't seen any more damp grannies or moist meemaws since the writing of this email. I know. They said they never had seen the moist meemaw. Yeah, I want to make sure that it hasn't made itself known. Hasn't appeared. Damn, Nikki. I'm glad you got out of there. If you have a witch girlfriend or boyfriend or however they identify as a witch, make sure that if you're not fully into it, you don't brush your hair in their presence. Oh yeah, you don't leave any part of yourself around there.

Don't leave any part of you around. Don't clip your nails. It's true. Don't even shower at their place. Just watch Satanic Panic. Do that anyway. Watch that, you should. It's really funny.

So good. Wow, okay. Thank you for that, Nikki. And I hope you're okay. I that. You should. It's really funny. So good. Wow. Okay. Thank you for that, Nikki. And I hope you're okay. I know. Me too.

So let's move on to the time not really my grandma tried to tractor beam kill me whilst I slept. Yeah. Yeah. You know, I don't know if you are supposed to use this person's name. Yeah, I'm not going to because I think it's unclear. So we're going to be. We'll call them something else.

How about Miss Mary um, Miss Mary Mack. Miss Mary Mack. It just came to me. Very long. Interesting that you chose that MMM. MMM. MMM. MMM. MMM. Um, okay. So as a hospice nurse in a mountainous, often rural area, I am not shy about or afraid of death and related subjects for the most part. However, as a highly sensitive person with a vague awareness that if I let myself be open, I would have a possible unmanageable amount of no longer on this plane visitors, and frankly, I just don't have the bandwidth for that. I don't like being around too many physical folks, but at least I can walk away from those guys when I'm overwhelmed. I feel that on a very

serious level. So my mom's husband of many, many years had a brittle relationship with his mother who was admittedly not the nicest or most motherly of people. She should maybe not have committed procreation aside from the fact that she created the person that showers love on my mom in the way she deserves. Aw. That's so sweet. I also love committed procreation. Committed procreation.

Like a crime. Like a crime. But I love that this person showers your mom with love. She lived with them for a while and I had met her maybe a handful of times in passing when I visited, but we had no real connection. One morning my mom calls and tells me that granny is in the hospital with a bad infection. The siblings had discussed and decided to forego aggressive treatment, and she was being kept comfortable. Okay, I think. Again, hospice brain recognizes that at some point it is a kindness to support

instead of harass a body with treatments that might maybe perhaps on a long shot help. Insert various illnesses and injuries here. But will absolutely not stop the process of sometimes a body is old and just no longer able to replicate cells appropriately and then dies from taking its course. I express condolences and offer support to mom and her hubby and expect that it will be a short matter of time. That night I'm sleeping, as one hopefully does, and have a unique dream. Now, I have cultivated a sleep life of lucid dream, lucid and vivid dreams, as I believe that it is a really cool, but also an important necessity to having a deeper understanding of ourselves.

I love that. I know, isn't that cool? I love that you've just committed yourself to lucid and vivid dreaming because you're like, it's important. I like that. I think it's great. I want to... I feel like in my dreams, I can be like, hey, wake up or something like that, but I can't

really control much else beyond that. Oh, see, I can control sometimes, not always. Yeah, I can't. It's like suddenly something hits where I'm like, ooh, I'm lucid, and I'm like, oh, going there. Or like ask that person this thing. Yeah. Like that's when I did that, like what time is it?

Yes, I don't want to do that. It was real weird. I don't want to do that at all. Sometimes I'm also not in my dream. Do you ever have dreams like that, where you're just like watching something, but like you're not a part of it? I don't know if I have that. Yeah, I can't think of like an example, but like I'll be like watching something,

but like I'm not there. Like, I don't know how to. Interesting. I don't know if I have that. Yeah. Like a movie. Like you're watching a movie. But it's just like in front of you. Yeah. Yeah. I don't think I've ever had that happen.

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free shipping on their best-selling frame. That's AuraFrames.com. Use code morbid at best selling frame. That's AURAframes.com. Use code morbid at checkout to save. Terms and conditions apply. It is of course the wee hours of the morning. You know the hour, I mean. And I am joined in my dream by the image of dying granny sitting in a recliner with a white sweater on, looking as full of spit and vinegar as ever.

I love that. Like when I had met her 20 years ago. I'm like, hey, Frances, it's good to see you. You look nice today and feel joy radiating from me. She looks at me but says nothing. In my dream, my mom is with me and we are having a conversation about I don't know what. And she's unaware of Frances, though I can see her clearly and tried to point out that

she was in the same room with us. I start to have the understanding that Frances is really there, but not in a physical way, so okay, Mom won't be seeing her today. Suddenly, instead of being in a conversation with Mom, I feel the hazy curtain of the other world shift from between me and Frances to between me and my Mom, and start to abruptly absorb my joy and replace it with a growing fear and dread. Francis is leaving and she's trying to take me with her." Ooh, isn't that fucked. "...in a way I've never experienced I am being pulled towards her, not physically,

but as if she was trying to slurp the life essence out of me." Okay, Miss Mary Mack, I'm going to need you to know that that upset me in a way I can't describe. Slurp the life essence out of me. Slurp the life essence out of me. Honestly, it makes me think of Hocus Pocus. You should read the next line. When they're all just like, you know. Miss Mary Mac said that.

Oh my God, are you serious? I was just going to say it. When they're all like, and when Mary burps. Think Hocus Pocus without the boss makeup and costumes. Amazing. Boss makeup and costumes. See? Way to write that.

Though I knew I was sleeping, I could feel myself being dragged through or out of myself, like literally being sucked into the void. And unlike my normal dreams, I wasn't able to control or change the situation. I'm so far gone, my mom is unaware that I'm quote unquote leaving and I can no longer communicate with her like my mouth has been filled with glue or sewn shut kind of like Billy Butcherson in Hocus Pocus. Boom! Shit! With a dull needle and all. That's right. The only thing I can think to do is go into a sort of mental

gymnastics and I throw myself into the endeavor of struggling against her pull. All the while trying to get some sign across to my mom because she's a bad ass act first ask questions later woman that wouldn't stand for such other worldly chicanery. I start to feel lost, the darkness creeping into my vision and I wake up audibly crying out for my mom and just sit there in the dark trying to catch my breath and hoping also I didn't wake up the kiddo. I had fallen asleep next to because moms. So I didn't die sucked into thick oblivion but Miss Francis had.

I again talked with my mom on the phone later that day to hear that Francis had taken her last breath through the night. That's weird. Isn't that fucking creepy? I was not surprised given the adventures of slumber but also was disinclined to share the story of how, despite how she had made so many people hurt and uncomfortable in life,

she couldn't leave without adding one more to the tally. Ooh. It's so creepy that like she wasn't the nicest human in life. And it seems like something someone like that would do be like, I'm taking you with me. Yeah. Like damn. With that experience, I again solidified a willful ignorance of those around me.

I cannot see in an effort to not send out a sprawling open invitation to my awareness. Given that there is a Civil War era graveyard literally in my front yard and one time I was introduced to a patient and the ghost of his grandma that watched over him in the same sentence, I have understandably created a bit of the curtain between awareness and intentional ignorance. You're fascinating, Miss Marybeth. You are fascinating. Thanks for listening, all. Keep it weird, but not so weird that you're a cynical heckler in life.

You have to go rummaging around in the minds of your not-really-family to find a shred of joy on your way to wherever it is you're going. But seriously, I hope Francis is at peace and join the others in the same way that the bad guy did in Kubo and the two strings at the end. I won't spoil it, but it was a beautiful way to create joy and not perpetuate hate, and it made me cry with the beauty of it. If you haven't seen it, I have not. I haven't either.

Do yourself a huge favor and take the day off to do so. Worth it. Love you guys. Thank you for being amazing and normalizing a fascination with the less lovely aspects of life and death. Here's my sweet dog Penny. I love your sweet dog Penny. I love your sweet dog Penny.

And the front yard graveyard. Ooh, you have really pretty trees. Oh damn. Oh, that's gorgeous. That's gorgeous. And I like that you wrote Appalachia, like an overscroll, like an Appalachia is over here. Damn.

That was just spooky. Truly spooky. Like that was just spooky. But Miss Mary Mack, that was chilling. And it was also like super lovely at the end that you were just like, I hope, you know, I hope Frances is at peace. Yeah, just like wishing the best for you. For Franny. Just trying to pull your ass into the afterlife. And you're still like, Frances, I hope you have the day you deserve. Yeah, that takes it. Not even. You're like, I hope you have a good day. Like that takes a bigger person. That was great.

Miss Mary Mack. All right. My next one is listener tales. Kayla's story inspired me to send in my own. Deb, Deb, you rock. Yeet. Yeet. I have a tale that I feel compelled to share after listening to Kayla's story on the last listener tales episode. It has a similar sort of theme to Kayla's story, though quite different in its contents.

This is my first time to send anything into a podcast, so I hope I've done this all right. You've done everything right. I've done it perfectly. Please see Attach double space puttifa for your reading pleasure. Thank you so much for checking this out and all the amazing content that you all chum out for us. Yes, I've also attached photo evidence of my lovely fur babies because I know you guys like that sort of thing. Oh, we love that sort of thing. We love a fur baby. Also, I see a town, the name town in this PDF. Do we have another Dream Town? We have another Dream Town.

And this one's pretty wild. Guys, I love these Dream Towns. Keep sending them. I know. If you if you have like a specific Dream Town, label it Dream Town. Yeah, like if that's what yeah, because we'll do whole episodes on these. A whole episode of Dream Towns. That would be phenomenal. OK, so it starts. Hi, Elena, a whole episode of Green Towns. Fascinating. Yes. That would be phenomenal.

Okay, so it starts, Hi Elena, Ash, Deb, Deb and Mikey. Long time listener, first time caller here. My name is Amber. Go ahead and use it if you want. There's lots of us and I don't really care if people know this is my story or not. I've toyed with sending in a couple stories in before, but quite frankly haven't made the time or the effort. I honestly felt that while my stories are mine and interesting to me, they weren't

anything especially spectacular or interesting enough to write in about. But I think they might be, so go ahead and tell them to us. Then while at work cutting up a tonsil, I'm a histo-technician I think? That's okay, most people haven't heard of it. I haven't. I heard Kayla's story on Listener Tale 72, dreams, astral projections, and alternate dimensions, and I had to stop, take my gloves off, and write down her name in the episode. I got that compulsion that so many

of your listeners get after a particular story hit that deep chord within them and makes them feel as if they're itching to get out of their own skin. I knew this was the story that would finally urge me to send a tale of my own into you lovely ladies of the lurid, laughable, and ludicrous. Do you not love that?" I was just going to say that honestly, I want that to be like a band name, me to send a tale of my own into you lovely ladies of the lurid, laughable and ludicrous. Do you not love that? I was just going to say that honestly, I want that to be like a band name, lurid, laughable and ludicrous. I also want to add it to my resume, which I don't have one, but I'll make one simply

to add to that. Yeah. Yeah. Now, see, Kayla's story is incredibly similar to my story. Well, maybe not quite the same flavor, but certainly in the same pantry, refrigerator, grocery store. I didn't quite think that metaphor through all the way. We get it. But to quote Ash using one of my most eye roll inducing you kids that keep creating

a dumbass new way to say things isms. It's giving familiarity. It's giving nostalgia. It's giving chills. Did I use that right? Like Elena, I am an old, a proud geriatric millennial as we're called. Hell yeah. I know this game. I've played this game feeling. And as much as my story is a keystone of series of events for me, it has always sounded fantastical and impossible to others.

I've only shared it with a handful of people. Luckily, they received it well and viewed it as more of a questioning their own views on reality kind of way, rather than a she's a bit loonier than we thought and maybe she should be on medication kind of way, rather than a, she's a bit loonier than we thought, and maybe she should be on medication kind of way. I've also always been a rational and logical sort of person. Born January 24th, runaway with a dash. I looked it up and that is a Capricorn cusp, but Aquarius. So I feel like it kind of makes sense

because you say with a wild imagination, but a burning need to learn about everything.. Yeah, I try so it pretty much fits So you really have like the rational logical side for sure. Yes, exactly. But the wild imagination is so glorious There you go. However, look at it However, when you tell people you've spent time and what you think is an alternate reality timeline dimension What have you that raised eyebrow blank stare is all too familiar. It's true, but we're here for you. We're so here. Similar to Kayla, however, I was ejected and haven't been back since, though the manner in which it occurred definitely differs from Kayla's story.

It's been about 16 years, give or take, since I saw the town with the old clock tower. Not kidding. Full body chill. So excited. When you just said, since I saw the town with the old clock tower, even just saying it out loud right there, I'm chilling and ready. I am chillin. Like I'm in my seat. My butt is held on to.

Let's go. Yeah, I'm already into this. When we dabble in and explore the unknown, something inexplicable happens. It seems to live in your very blood, always reminding you it's there, but filling you with a cooling awareness that there is so much more to this universe and the human mind than we will likely ever understand. And the dividing line between the two is fuzzy and fluid. You're an incredible writer, by the way.

There are so many of you, if you're thinking about writing a book, write a book. Do it. Or write whatever you feel like you wanna write, but like write something. Write something. Write it so everybody can read it. Because a lot of you are so fucking good.

You guys have a way to just like paint a picture. Yeah, like this is just that's just like a beautifully constructed half of a paragraph. This whole thing is. It really is. So like do it. If you're ever thinking of doing it, just fucking do it. Now while this is immensely intriguing and alluring, those of us who have embarked on these paths, build an understanding that there are things we can't explain that are more powerful than

we currently are equipped to understand. Okay, enough buildup. Here's my relatively short but impactful story of the town I frequented and the day I was kicked out by something dark. When I was in high school, I had a close friend who started talking to me over IM. Cue nostalgic sigh. Yes. About astral travel, though I don't think he ever actually used that term. I believe it was much later when telling my cousin about the experience that she told me about astral travel and gave me a book about it. That's when I learned the term. From what I recall, my friend said that he wanted to quote unquote, show me something. And I said, okay. And then he typed out instructions. He said the thing he wanted to show me wasn't

here. It was in another place. Confused but intrigued, I read the instructions on how to relax my body, clear my mind, and asked how he planned to show me something based on the instructions. He replied saying that he didn't know if it would work and he couldn't tell me much more just to try it, to take my time and reply whenever I felt

it was quote unquote time. I was sitting on my bed with the laptop that my debate coach let me borrow. Yeah, it was supposed to be to work on research, but I was a teenager. So of course I used it to chat with my friends too. Of course. And reading his words, I thought, what the hell, why not?

I closed my eyes and relaxed my body, focusing on my breath while imagining a white light building around me. Deep breath in, steady release out. Deep breath in and out, in and out. Though it took a few minutes for me to be able to fully clear my mind, certainly not an easy task for an OCD-riddled chronic over-thinker. Soon I was seeing something. It was strange, and it's a bit hard to explain, but there was a point in my relaxation exercise where I felt as though if I opened a pair of inner eyelids,

my eyelids were closed and I was sitting on my bed. I could feel myself in my room. Yet I felt an odd warmth under my eyelids and had the sensation of opening them, even though they remained closed. I thought I had glint something, but I was so confused by the sensation that I lost my focus and opened my eyes fully. I stared at the laptop screen, allowing my eyes to adjust. As I focused on the laptop screen, allowing my eyes to adjust. As I focused on the IM box, my friend typed and entered the words, what did you see? I stared for a minute before responding.

He didn't know, he just had funny timing, right? I typed, I don't know, and that seemed to be the opening needed. I suppose he felt that if it wouldn't work for me, he'd know relatively quickly, and me saying, I don't know, rather than nothing or something to that effect, seemed to give him hope. So he told me to try it again, to do the same thing, but let it continue. So I did.

The same process of relaxing and clearing my mind, then the same sensation of opening a pair of inner eyelids. But this time, I just continued to focus on my breathing. It wasn't long before I became aware that I was seeing a large tree. I was standing in a meadow or a field of sorts and it was breezy. And there was a large old tree gently sloping, a small hill with things floating around it.

The tree was huge with heavy branches that hung over and leaf-filled limbs that brushed the grass around it. Similar to a willow, but it wasn't a willow. It wasn't as dense as a willow and the leaves weren't the wispy, narrow leaves of a willow. Say willow again. He he. I almost said that.

Willow. As my vision focused, I noticed the things floating around the tree were orbs of light, soft-looking green gold bubbles floating lazily around the tree, weaving in and out of the branches. After a minute or two, I opened my eyes fully again and looked at the laptop screen and began typing what I saw. He encouraged me to do it again, but to approach the tree and touch one of the bubbles. So I did. I repeated the same process, and this time, the meadow around me was more crisp. I could feel the breeze, the warm sun on my face, and hear the grass rustling as

I moved toward the tree. I paused for a moment by the tree and watched the green gold orbs drift about. When one crossed to me and danced in front of me, I reached my hand out and touched it. I genuinely can't recall exactly how I ended up on the cobblestone pathway. I don't remember any sort of whirlwind feeling or being dropped down a tube or anything like that, but after touching the orb, the next thing I recall is looking down at my feet, seeing a slim pair of well-worn brown boots on my feet, the hem of a simple emerald green dress and the cobbled stone pathway that faded into the trees behind me and stretched forward toward a stone wall. I'm literally obsessed with this. It just

sounds like beautiful and whimsical. Yeah, this is whimsical as fuck. I'm in. It is. I began walking and found myself approaching a small town or village of sorts, bordered by the stone wall. After a moment, however, I hesitated. Looking forward, I could see an old wooden clock tower, not especially tall or ornate, but a clear focal point for the small town square. I could see people moving about the square and one man who was near the break in the wall

where the gate would be. I was unsure. What I was seeing was vivid and clear, but it couldn't be real, right? I pulled myself out of it and opened my eyes. My bedroom and laptop screamed, coming into focus. I saw you. The words my friend had typed were in the I.M. box. I know, full chills.

I am chills in this moment. This I've never heard of. Oh my god. Like before this story. I fully believe it. Like I'm not doubting any part of it, but I've never heard people seeing each other. I saw you! Right?

Yeah. Okay. Welcome to the small town of Chinook where faith runs deep and secrets run dark. In this new crime thriller, religion and crime collide when this small Montana community is rocked by a gruesome murder. As the town is whipped into a frenzy, everyone is quick to point their fingers at a drug-addicted teenager. But local deputy Ruth Vogel isn't convinced.

She suspects connections to a powerful addicted teenager. But local deputy Ruth Vogel isn't convinced. She suspects connections to a powerful religious group. Enter federal agent V.B. Laro, who has been investigating a local church for possible criminal activity. She and Ruth form an unlikely partnership to catch the killer, unearthing secrets that leave Ruth torn between her duty to the law, her religious convictions, and her very own family. But something more sinister than murder is afoot, and someone's watching Ruth. With an all-star cast led by Emmy Award nominee Santa Layton and Star Wars Kelly Marie Tran, Chinook plunges listeners into the dark underbelly of a small town where the lines between truth and deception are blurred, and even the most

devout are not who they seem. Chinook is available to listen to now exclusively with your Wondery Plus subscription. You can subscribe to Wondery Plus on the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. Hey weirdos! Do you like to hyperfixate like me? You start something off that seems very straightforward and suddenly you are down that rabbit hole letting the story carry you down paths you never even anticipated going down. If this is your thing, check out one of my recent deep dives that you might have missed, episode 548, The Lipstick Killer, part 1. To be clear, it is a gruesome and awful story. Two women and a child were brutally murdered. But as we look back on this wild case that

was heavily influenced by a very corrupt police force and media stroking public fear, I'm not too sure that they got the right guy. You can find this episode by following Morbid and scrolling back a little bit to episode 548, The Lipstick Killer Part 1, or by searching Morbid Lipstick wherever you listen to podcasts. And it gets wilder. It gets wilder. Let's go. The words my friend had typed were in the IM box when my eyes

focused on the screen. And I felt a combination of several feelings at once, confusion, skepticism, doubt. And yet there were goosebumps on my arm. I am, however, a natural cynic and skeptical about things until convinced. As I previously alluded to, I was on a debate team, competitive speech, mocked Congress and theater, and was both a state and nationally ranked speaker. Whoa, what? Amazing.

I competed and placed in about a hundred tournaments in my high school career. I say this not to brag, but to illustrate how ingrained in my nature it is to question, explore, and poke holes into the unknown, to be curious, but not naive. So when I read that what my friend had typed, my gut response was, prove it. Hell yeah it was, because you got a little bit of Capricorn in there.

Yeah, exactly, you're off that cusp. Hell yeah. I typed, what do you mean? And he repeated, I saw you standing on the path. Whoa. Again, I have to emphasize that I have a vivid imagination. And I'm also very skeptical normally. I was certain there was a way he was able to guess what I'd imagined and was playing a sort of game or just wanting to do some imaginative role play. Nothing sexual. We were only ever friends, but we were also total nerds and random imaginative role play wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

I feel that. You're just role playing. Just friends things. What did I look like, I asked, thinking that would be an easy way to begin poking holes. You were wearing a green dress, his response read. Okay, but it's not exactly a secret that I like the color green.

There you go, being smart. Could just be an easy guess. You had long wavy auburn hair and you were a little taller than you actually are. I froze staring at his words and disbelief. See, I left out a detail earlier. When I first noticed myself on the stone pathway, I caught a glimpse of my hair

and held the end of it in my hands. It was wavy, long, reaching to my lower back and was a deep, rich auburn. The reason this is worth mentioning is that in reality my hair is a dark brown shade and naturally very straight and at the time I was in high school it was a little past shoulder length so like completely different. Yeah the goosebumps made their reappearance. My next tact was to ask him to describe where I was to which he responded in perfect detail about the surroundings I had just seen.

I was now beyond baffled. How? Was the only thing that could infiltrate my buzzing senses. My question about my appearance could have led him to guess that the differences mentioned incorporating conversations we'd had in the past, but I didn't intend to look different. And even if it was my subconscious, he still described the environment around me perfectly. The very air around me in my room and my bedroom felt charged. There was a sort of buzzing feeling in the air, but also an almost faintly pressing feeling of higher pressure. I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but it's the only way I can really think to describe it. It does. I feel like I can feel that.

Yeah. It was several minutes before I responded. Are you messing with me? I finally asked another thing about myself, especially at the time. I prided myself on not being easily caught off guard and being able to think quickly on my feet, a side effect of the years of competitive speaking, debate, and theater. Consequently, when I was caught off guard, my reaction response tended toward annoyance and going on the offensive. Not my best trait, but I have a sensitivity around feeling made to look foolish. caught off guard. My reaction response tended toward annoyance and going on the offensive.

Not my best trait, but I have a sensitivity around feeling made to look foolish. I'm sorry, are we? When I read this, I was like, did Alaina write this? Yeah, like, are we the same? I feel that a lot. Very much so. What followed was a series of messages in which my friend assured me that he wasn't trying to mess with me or to make me look dumb. He had stumbled into something and wanted to share it with someone else, someone he thought had the ability not only to stumble

into it as well, but to grasp it. After some reassurances, he convinced me to do it again, that he would approach me in this other little world, whatever it was. So I did. I'm so in for this. And he did. The man who had been standing by the break in the wall was him. Over the next hour or two, we talked and walked around this odd little world, then would go back to the IM chat to talk more about what we saw and said there. Each of us was taking further steps in the chat to confirm that we weren't leading one another in any way, and we were actually experiencing something unique and shared.

This is amazing. It's beautiful. Yeah, it really is. I feel like this would also make like a fantastic movie. Oh my god. Yeah. Right? When it came to say goodnight, we agreed to meet back the next day and try to repeat

the experience. We re-entered this world several times, each time talking and exploring the little town and the surrounding woods, then talking over the IM chat about what we saw and said to one another. It was fascinating and exciting, but it was strange and unexplainable to me at the time. However, I was absorbed in this ability to slip into another world and experience something that felt like a hidden secret." A great title for the movie. Truly.

Hidden secret. Hidden secret. It wasn't long before the draw was strong enough that I was going without my friend. I'd walk around the little town square, stare up at that clock tower, and even met a nice older man who liked to make pleasant small talk when he saw me. I wish I could remember his name. I do too! Damn!

Isn't that cool? And then you have to wonder, like, was that somebody else astral projecting? Or like, did that person live in that town wherever you were? What is this? There came a day when I entered the outskirts of the little town, the same as I always did, appearing on the cobblestone path outside the wall, and immediately felt that something was off. The air held a distinct sour note of foreboding, and it was quiet. There were dark storm clouds in the sky, the sun fighting to be seen, and it didn't occur

to me until that moment that the sky there had always been clear and bright. Something was wrong. It was with trepidation and unease that I approached the break in the wall. There were no signs or sounds of people moving about the square as there usually was. There was a palpable feeling of dread and anticipation filling the air. As I crossed into the town square, the very darkness of the clouds filling the sky seemed to detach from the clouds and stream into the surrounding square, pressing and pushing. It happened in a matter of seconds, the darkness filling the space. With a sudden, lurching shove, I was back in my room, my heart racing and my

head pulsing with that feeling of pressure that I'd felt in the square. I wish I could say I knew what happened. I wish I could explain what it was that pushed me out. I wish I could say I went back to get answers. But the truth is, that interaction filled me with an unfathomable feeling of dread, fear, and warning. I was not welcome back, and if I went back, something bad would happen to me. That was the only clear thought I did have. I wasn't sure why, if I'd done something wrong, or if something dark, maybe not even from that place, had crossed a similar entryway I had and was pushing everything out. Was the town okay? Was the friendly man okay? Oh, man, is he okay?

I hope so. I told my friend about it and he agreed with me. I couldn't go back. It wasn't safe. To this day, I still have no answers as to what I experienced and what happened that day. I've even had to entertain the thought that perhaps it was my friend and he no longer wanted to share the town

with the clock tower with me. I know, I wonder. Ooh, another great detail for the movie. Either way, I've never gone back, never even really tried. There are certain lessons that we only need to learn once to get the point. When something reaches into your very core and imprints an intent upon you, the need to push the boundary, poke holes, or search for answers is simply evaporated. Sometimes you don't need answers to still know something to be true.

I just love that. I love how you write. The 16 or so years since this occurred has taken a lot of the detail with it. I've always prided myself on having a great memory, a photographic memory. But whether it was my stressful years of navigating my 20s, sliding into being a high-functioning alcoholic, two and a half years sober now, congratulations, or the very nature of what I experience, the details have faded. I've written the experience as best as I can remember with as much detail as I can

remember without letting my imagination try to take over. I can still feel the dividing line. To this day, I've never tried to go back to the small, quaint town with the old clock tower, and I may have just written the whole thing off as an odd imaginative experience or some weird folly ado, but it isn't my only experience. I've had many occurrences of intuition and my good old gut being more obnoxious, more of an obnoxious know-it-all than I used to be. I had a close friend who used to call me her turning fork because of my ability to feel energy and intuitively know a truth

before it's confirmed. Because of my nature, however, my natural skepticism, my need for balance with my rational side, I've never fully leaned into this with my whole heart, similar to how it was when I visited this other place. But there was one other, more recent occurrence that tipped the scales in my brain with a bit more weight on the side of the unknown and fantastical. Something that, while relatively small and brief, seemed to lend credence to the possibility of such fantastical things being a bit closer to reality. I was at home one night, relaxing after a long shift at work, sitting on the couch and watching forensic files again, as one does, and letting my mind wander. I was wearing a necklace a close friend had given to me and was holding the pendant in my hand while my mind was wandering over the hundreds of random thoughts that

flashed through my head after a hectic day. For some reason, I had a random, persistent thought to close my eyes. Not in a sleepy way, but as if someone kept whispering in my ear to do so. So I did. It was as if I was sitting in the upper corner of his garage ceiling, my back to the corner, and looking down on the crowded workspace. His back was bent over whatever he was currently working on, and he was sitting at one of the tables. My friend, who had given me the necklace, had talked about his garage slash workshop.

He liked to build things and tinker with electronics, and I quickly realized what I was seeing. I could clearly hear the music he was listening to. A particular song was playing that he'd showed me a couple weeks before. Everything was as clear as if I was seeing. I could clearly hear the music he was listening to. A particular song was playing that he'd showed me a couple weeks before. Everything was as clear as if I was actually sitting in the room with him. I even recall my heartbeat accelerating, convinced he'd turn around and see me. What the fuck? I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, the episode of Forensic Files swimming back into focus,

and immediately picked up my phone. I texted my friend and asked him if he was sitting at a table in his garage working on something. Yes, came the reply, then question mark. Like what the fuck? You're wearing a white t-shirt, a t-shirt. I just said t-shirt. Are you wearing a what t-shirt? You got a what t-shirt on? You're wearing a white t-shirt and dark blue basketball shorts. I texted quickly, question mark, question mark was his response, then, stalker, LOL. Do you have that all-time low song playing?

I sent my next message immediately. Yes, what the fuck? He replied a second later. Then, seriously, are you here, LOL? I don't know where you live, I responded. Then I sent him a picture of me sitting on my couch. Weird, you're going to have to explain this to me tomorrow, he replied.

Side note, funny how we use LOL now to ensure our messages sound lighthearted. It's a somewhat disturbing mental image to actually imagine yourself or someone lolling every time they use it though. I think of that all the time, especially something like that where it's like, seriously, are you here? LOL, stalker. It's like, no one's laughing at that. We would all just be rocking back and forth, laughing maniacally. Even when I will write it myself, sometimes I feel like there's a voice in my head that's like, you're not laughing.

Yeah. Like, don't say that. Sometimes in my head it's just like, LOL. Like, what the fuck? Exactly. The next day at work, oh yeah, we worked together. I told him about what had happened. He verified the things I'd seen, the layout of his garage and work tables, and made several jokes about me being

a stalker or witch of some kind. He and I had maaaany conversations about the strange and unusual before. However, he did ask me a few questions, and I agreed that it sounded like some sort of astral projection of some kind. I berated him a few different ways to be sure he wasn't screwing with me. We had a very playful and teasing sort of friendship, so it would not be out of the ordinary. And I felt confident that he wasn't. He genuinely seemed a bit spookied by it, and I saw the goosebumps on his arms myself. As I write this, it occurs to me that many of the more unexplainable and fantastical

events that I have experienced in my life seem to involve or intensify around men I'm close to, ranging from family to close friends to romantic connections. I'm not sure if there's anything to that or if it's just my brain trying to connect a pattern of any sort into some kind of meaningful answer. It could also be a coincidence that the necklace my friend gave me, the one I was holding when I felt compelled to close my eyes and saw him in his garage, was a pendant with a tree of life, an image I've always felt a connection to, and that a similar looking tree of life, an image I've always felt a connection to and that a similar looking tree was the conduit of sorts that guided me into the other

world that held the town with the clock tower. Again, this could just be my brain trying to find patterns as a way to facilitate answers, but I do always love a good synchronicity. I do too. And I also love the way your brain works. Yeah, it works very similar to yours. As is my custom, I rambled a bit more on this than was my intention, but I haven't really even thought about all this that much in years. And it was a journey to sit down and write it all out. It even took me longer than I thought it would to actually finish this and get it sent in. I'm doing so, however, oh, excuse me, in doing so, however, I have been feeling a sort of pull to try to lean in to these possibilities more.

And since I became sober, I've been feeling my sort of pull to try to lean in to these possibilities more. And since I became sober, I've been feeling my inner tuning fork more and more again. That's awesome. I love that. I know. Maybe I can find the meadow with the tree again, and maybe it will take me somewhere else. I hope it does.

I want you to, I want you to go somewhere even cooler. Yeah. And like, I hope you're safe when you go. Maybe it's best not to try as the possible repercussions may not be worth it. Probably. Either way, for the first time in several years, I think I'm ready to start trying to clear my mind again. But I'm not setting any expectation with it and will always sheath myself in protective light as I clear my mind. For all I know, that was the only thing that guarded me last time. Thank you again for all that you do. You ladies are a point of

joy and connection for me and many other listeners in this crazy world. Thank you. I love the way you cover the cases you choose and put so much emphasis on the victims in each case. And the way you manage to find cases that so many of us have probably never heard of through all of our various shows. Like episode 289, The Swamp Angel. Alaina, one of my favorite episodes of a case I've ever heard. That case was wild, wasn't it? Yeah, and they said they'd never heard of it. Sorry, I read that wrong. And Ash, your episode about Betty Page was wonderfully done. Thank you. I learned so much I didn't realize I didn't know about her story. It's hard to even narrow

down favorites and I won't because I love them all, even the early ones. I love you. But those two have always stuck in my mind. Keep doing what you guys do and I hope you continue to have happiness and success in all that you touch. Thank you. You two feel like distant family and the synchronicities that pop up between my life and what you two talk about on the show is one of the big reasons I come back to listen every week. Just feels right. Aw.

I think you and Elena are kindred spirit. I was going to say, I think we might be. I really think so. And you two have been a beacon of comfort for me over the past couple of years. Elena, I relate to you on so many levels. It could be a whole separate email. You even inspired me to pick up writing again.

Hell yeah! After being on a several years long hiatus. Maybe I'll actually be able to finish one of those books one day. You will do it. And how cool. You guys are definitely connected in some way. Because I didn't read this before.

And at the beginning you literally said like, finish that book, write those books. Like I didn't even read this before. No, she didn't. I picked these. Wow. If you like morbid, you can listen early and ad free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon

Music. Before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at Wondery.com slash survey. Ash, you're genuinen- genuinen-ity? Yeah. Genuinen-ity? An-an-an-an-an-y? Ingenuity? Ingenuity? Ingenuity? Are you talking of my ingenuity? I'm like, whee! An-an-an-an-y.

Whee! Genuinen-ity, I think. Yeah. Thank you. Your genuinen-ity and empathy are relatable on a deep level for me as well, and you constantly remind me not to resent my empathetic nature to keep a broad view when times are tough. Thanks. You two have such a pure and approachable dynamic with a wonderful blend of real talk and limiting your personal life to your personal life while still making us feel like we're sitting with a group of friends and listening to one of our favorite subjects.

I love the formula your show has. It has all been from the get-go, you two and your reactions and growth through the years, and I think that's amazing. Oh man, thank you so much. I know, I'm really crying right now. How else would I have gotten half my family and many co-workers to become weirdos too? Hell yeah. Hello everyone. Hello. Thank you again for all that you do and thank you for taking the time to read this. Maybe there are others out there who have seen the meadow with the tree, or maybe these things show themselves differently to each one of us who encounter them. Is it perception or is it reality? But then, how does one even define reality? If reality is this fluid, does that mean my Hogwarts letter just got lost in the multidimensional shuffle years ago?

I've been saying that for decades, man. Keep it weird, but not so weird. You send yourself down an existential rabbit hole. Or do. Whatever floats your boat and whacks your pinata. Just remember not to lose yourself all amidst the waves or the candy. Best wishes, warmest regards, Amber. P.S. Just had to throw in the Schitt's Creek reference there at the end. Amber, I love you. Holy shit. I want to see that meadow with that tree. I want to do that so bad.

I feel like I don't want Amber to go back there, but I want Amber to experience another kind of place because I'm worried for Amber to go back there. Amber, I want you to have another lovely and safe experience in a different place where that tree sends you. And I would totally read your book if you wrote one. Write that book. When you write it, please send it to us. Amber, we'll write that book. We'll read that book, we will share that book.

Let's go. I will put that book on my new bookshelf. You gotta do it. It would be so fun to write a fiction story about one of these astral projection towns. And just really get crazy with it. Because you could really get so creative with it and you could really like take it in different places.

To like write it as you astral project, like come back and write some of it, like some of your experience. And write what you see and kind of add your own things. That's interesting. It's almost like a research trip. Maybe you could write it off. A writing retreat, if you will.

Your own writing retreat. You create in your mind. That'd be fucking awesome. Wow. That was amazing. Holy shit. Yeah, that was crazy. All right. I mean, moving on to my TikTok lucid dream, my friends.

I love this. Let's go. Let me bring this up. The time TikTok fucked my lucid dream. My Walmart mirror is a portal? Yeet. All of the above. Hello, Ashlyn and Deb Deb.

My name is Nick and yes, you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, but I'm not sure if you can use the word, At the time TikTok fucked my lucid dream. My Walmart mirror is a portal? Yeet. All of the above. Hello, Ashleena and Deb Deb.

My name is Nick and yes, you can use it. I have attached a pitiful of my experience lately with lucid dreaming. I want to start out by saying I absolutely am obsessed with your podcast. It is pretty much the only podcast I listen to all day every day. I started listening to it during 2020. During that time, I'd recently moved to a new city and when the world shut down, or I recently had moved to a new shitty, shitty goddamn. Because we read too fast.

I had recently moved to a new city and then the world shut down. There we go. That wasn't you. That was all me. So I didn't have much company beside you wonderful ladies. I'm glad we were keeping you company. I instantly felt like I was hanging out with my besties. I relate to you all so much. Ash, I'm also a Gemini. And I am also somewhat of an empath, I suppose, and feel deeply connected to spiritual events and such.

Hence why I'm writing this story. Elena, I am also obsessed with your sense of humor and your witty comments. Thank you. You always keep it 100. I do. I adore you for that. Thank you. I aspire to be as carefree and lovely as both of you. You are lovely as fuck. Lovelier even. To start this story, I will say I've always had a strong intuition, feel other people's feelings deeply and have always been hypersensitive to the feelings of places, people, animals, etc. My eternal catchphrase is I don't know, I just get a vibe. I relate to that. I was going to say that's Ash. However, I've never had much guidance and how to deal with

these feelings or what they mean. I bring these feelings up to my boyfriend and although he tries to be supportive, he has trouble relating to my experiences. So I just want to say sorry if I describe these events incorrectly, as I am just learning how to handle the emotions and feelings I receive. Never be sorry. Now you're good. Never be sorry for anything. Never. I have many stories about my lucid dreams or times my intuition has saved me. For example, the time my badass women intuition saved me from a creeping predator. Hell yeah it did. I've always had lucid dreams since I was a child, but I have been having

them frequently again and even started to direct them. When you did your episode with Andrew and talked about lucid dreaming, I knew I had to write in about my tale. However, this lucid dream that I'm going to tell you about still freaks me out. I recently moved into a new house and when I moved into the house, I instantly felt that there was an older gentleman spirit that was still lingering in the house. Not harmful, just a dude chilling, living life. You know, just a vibe. This will be important later. The night before this lucid dream, I'd seen a TikTok saying that if you lucid dream, oh no, that if you lucid dream, you should never ask of the time or day. Something that you talked about in the episode with so did Andrew.

Being the stupid bitch that I am, I thought, what the hell? Honestly, welcome to the stupid bitch club. So I also did that. That night I fell asleep and noticed I was lucid dreaming. I was in a room full of people with no faces mindlessly wandering around me in a blank white room. I hate that they had no faces. I stopped one of the people and asked them what the time and date was.

As soon as I asked, I regretted it. The lady started screaming at me and I was launched backward out of the room into the pitch dark. Then I woke up in my bed or so I thought. I was looking at myself from above my bed, seemingly floating over my body. I watched myself startle awake and stare into my full length mirror I have in the corner of my bedroom. I watched as the mirror shattered, seemingly startling me awake again.

Nope, I was still dreaming. This time I was sitting in my bed staring into the mirror. Then again, the mirror shatters and I am seemingly startled awake again. This cycle continued five times. I startle awake, the mirror breaks, I startle awake again, an endless cycle of torture that I couldn't wake up from. This is awful. Isn't that horrible?

It feels so suffocating. Oh, that's exactly the word. Usually in my lucid dreams, I can just wake myself up, but this time I was trapped. After the fifth time, I was still lucid dreaming, but I launched up in bed and instead of looking in the mirror, I turned my head to look into my pitch black master bedroom. As I turned my head, I see an older man standing in the doorway. There's your gentleman. He stares back at me and just whispers, be careful and disappears into the dark.

I'm like, I don't know if I should be terrified of that or like if I want to high five that man. Like he did. And he whispered it. So he's like, be careful. And then just disappeared into the dark. I'd be like, But it's like, there's so many different ways you can whisper something. Was he did, and he whispered it so he's like, be careful. And then just disappeared into the dark. I'd be like. But it's like, there's so many different ways you can whisper something. Was he like, be careful. Or was he like, be careful.

I feel like he was a difference. Cause I feel like he's like a chill gentleman. Cause she described him as an older gentleman. And she was like, I'm not worried about this guy at all. He's just chilling. So I feel like this guy was just like, be careful. Yeah, like calm it down. Like take it easy.

Yeah, like it's all good. And then he just like Homer Simpson into be careful. Yeah, like calm it down. Like take it easy. Yeah, like it's all good. And then he just like Homer Simpson into the bushes. Yeah, exactly. Maybe it was Homer Simpson. I finally wake up for real this time, my heart pounding. The next morning I tell my boyfriend about my dream, the faceless people, the reoccurring torture and the old man that had come to visit me. My boyfriend grew up in the same neighborhood that we're living in now, so he knew the previous owner of our

house. I never mentioned the feeling of the older gentleman to him before because, well, I wasn't sure how to handle my intuitions and feelings just yet, and I didn't want him to be weirded out. As I continued to explain my dream to him and tell him about the cautionary message from the older man, he stops, turns, and stares at me. I ask him why he looks so frightened and he asks me to describe the older man. I told him he was tall, bony looking, with a head of gray hair. He shows me a picture of the previous owner of the house and asks me, does he look like this man? It was indeed the same man from my dreams. We were shook. The old man that I felt the presence in our house had died in our house before we moved

in. He died of natural causes, explaining the reason I felt no ill will from this older man. My boyfriend never told me about the older man because he didn't want me to feel creeped out. So this is my tale about how lucid dreaming confirmed my intuition that indeed there was an older gentleman's spirit looking out for me in our house. Now that I have confirmed that intuition, I feel quite at peace knowing I have him around to help guide me. That is nice. I know, right? However, I'm still not sure what his cautionary message was about.

Perhaps don't listen to every stupid thing you hear on TikTok? Or maybe my mirror is a portal that I just bought it from Walmart, so could it really be haunted? Anyway, I'm still continuing to learn more about my intuitions and feelings. I would love any guidance you all have on the subject. I love you both more than words and keep it weird, but not so weird. Or maybe do keep it so weird that you listen to your intuition about an old friendly ghost that lives in your house and gives you cautionary messages about

not wanting, not listening to advice from Tik Tok or maybe your mirror you just bought from Walmart is a portal. Love always, Nick. I don't know. I think that mirror could be trying to tell you something. I think, I think that old man maybe was saying like, I think that was his like, be careful what you do in your dreams. Yeah, definitely. Like I think he was like, don't listen to everything.

Like that could have, this could be a punishment. I don't think we're supposed to ask people what time our date is in our dreams. I think there's some. It wasn't great when I did it. Yeah, you had a horrible, terrifying experience to the point where I'd never do it. And I've never heard of it working well for, or like working out for somebody.

That was very strange. I think there are things that we are simply not ready to understand or not meant to understand. And like, I don't... Personally, I don't think dreams are just dreams. No, I think there's something more. I think there's something to it. That we don't understand. Like, I agree that it's probably part of it, at least,

is like us trying to process what we've seen throughout our day and stuff like that. But I think, and maybe it varies. Maybe there are certain dreams where your brain is processing. And then maybe there are other dreams where you do go somewhere else that you're possibly not supposed to be the brain is so complex And there's so much that we don't understand possibly know everything about what's happening. Yeah, so I feel like there's just When I when it's like when it's very clear that you can't know everything I'm like then there's something there's something else

You know, yeah, I think so, you know, I definitely think so. Yeah All right, bro ease. We got one more. This one's hilarious. And it's it's a little bit of a short one, but it says, Listen to tales. Six year old me astral projects. Hi, weirdos. My name is Katie blue, just like the color. I love that technically and legally now, Katie blue nebels since I was finally married in May 2021 after cancelling and replanning my wedding three times. Fuck you, COVID. Damn, I'm glad you got to finally get married.

I can't imagine having to do it three times. I had to change the date and even that was stressful enough. Yeah, no way. Anyway, feel free to use all my names. Every one. Every single one. I found your podcast a little over a year ago and have not turned you off since. You make my workday fly by, which is fan fucking tastic.

Hell yeah. So this is a story about the time I astral projected myself with zero knowledge or memory of the event and scared the ever loving shit out of my older brother. Obsessed already. I had to put it in reverse. Our parents are divorced, but we were still living together when this happened.

Their bedroom was at the end of the hall and mine was directly across from theirs. My older brother's room was in the basement. Directly in front of my brother's room was an electric fireplace that kept the house warm during the cold Pennsylvania winters. If his bedroom door was open, you would have a clear view of said fireplace. Well, one winter night, my brother woke up around 3 a.m. to find his bedroom door open. Tired and dazed, he thought he saw something standing in front of the glowing fireplace. After wiping the sleep from his eyes, he realized it was me. It me. I was standing directly in front of his open bedroom door with my fucking head down,

fully illuminated by the fire. Initially, he told me to get lost because he was trying to sleep, but I would not move. Annoyed, he repeatedly told me to knock it off and go back to bed. By now he was yelling it, Kate, you're not funny, get upstairs and go back to bed. I just stood there with my head down, not acknowledging his yelling or anything else for that matter. By now, my brother was royally losing his mind and panic set in. He must have gone into fight or flight mode because he jumped out of bed, darted past my creepy head down, glown assnas and darted upstairs to our parents room. As he ran... As he ran... What happened? It was his soul. As he ran down the hallway... I don't know. To mother... I literally don't know. Mother... And you, there was no intention of that ever coming out that way. No, it just, so he ran.

Something overtakes me. I love it. It's scary. As he ran. As he ran. As he ran down the hallway to that room. He also got a good look into my room where he found me asleep, peacefully.

That's fucked up. To this day- I don't like it. Her brother doesn't either. To this day, my brother still doesn't like to talk about that night or what he saw. Like I said, I have no memory of this. I don't know if that's the only time I've astral projected or if I'm out here scaring the shit out of people

with no knowledge of it. Either way, it's equal parts terrifying and cool. Keep it weird, ladies, but not so weird that you accidentally astral project yourself and scare the ever loving shit out of your brother. I love the idea of like, I don't know if I'm just out here scaring the shit out of people. I love that you had no idea also, if I was your brother, I'd be like, I'm leaving. Katie.

I'm literally leaving. I'm not staying in this house with sweet Katie Blue here. Sweet Katie Blue. Also, that name is just so sweet. Oh yeah, Katie Blue. Katie Blue. She astral projects from room to room. Oh, that's just Katie Blue.

She just astral projects sometimes. Katie Blue, she'll astral project in front of you. In your bed of old balance. She'll astral project your heart. I loved that. I love these. I need more of these. I specifically need more little town ones that you guys go to.

Yeah, to bring me into your little towns. I need to like, I want to just like make a full length something about that. You gotta. It's too good. It's so good. But guys, you're killing it with these. Always. You're hilarious. And we love you. We love the shit out of you. So much. The feeling is so mutual. Sweet dreams, weirdos. Sweet dreams are made of these. Exactly.

And we hope you keep listening. And we hope you keep it weird. And keep it so weird that you astral project everywhere except to me. Bye. Scare your brother, though. Yeah, definitely. In May of 1980, near Anaheim, California, Dorothy Jane Scott noticed her friend had an inflamed, red wound on

his arm and seemed unwell. She insisted on driving him to the local hospital to get treatment. While he waited for his prescription, Dorothy went to grab her car to pick him up at the exit, but would never be seen alive again, leaving us to wonder, decades later, what really happened to Dorothy Jane Scott? From Wandery, Generation Y is a podcast that covers notable true crime cases like this one and many more. Every week, hosts Erin and Justin sit down to discuss a new case, covering every angle in theory, walking through the forensic evidence and interviewing those close to the case to

try to discover what happened. With over 450 episodes, there's a case for every true crime listener. Follow the Generation Y podcast on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Generation Y ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus.