Birdie’s Spooks: Am I Dreaming?

This paranormal experience was the one that took the cake. This is the one I remember very vividly that left me with a residual fear of sleeping alone, or even sleeping in general.

I was young, my sister was still in high school, and she’s five years older than me to give you an idea. It was probably just past 11pm. I was sleeping in my bedroom which was on the second floor. At the time, my sister lived in the second living room towards the front of the house and at the base of the stairs. As I’ve mentioned before, my room was placed in such a way I could hear TVs on or people talking in any room of the house. I also always slept with my door open if someone else was home with me.

While I was sleeping, I remember being woken up by something. Thinking back, I had to have been in a deep sleep because I was pretty groggy at first. The first thing I immediately recognize was the fact I could not move. My arms were planted at my side and I was on my back. My fingers were spread so far apart and my hand muscles were being flexed. I was able to move my head so when I looked to the left, I saw my pillows that were once at the head of my bed were now at the base of my bed and on the floor. I must have fallen asleep doing homework or writing because I saw a pencil stand on end next to my left flexed out hand.

I remember trying to scream, but I could not make a peep.

This episode lasted about one minute. It ended abruptly after I heard clear as day, a little girl laugh. It was almost like she was making fun of me or thought it was funny to do those things to me. I don’t even know if she was the one who did it. Regardless, I was scared out of my mind.

Once I was able to move, I ran out of my room, down the stairs, and stopped in front of my sister’s room. I asked her if she heard anything or saw anyone and she said no. I gathered myself and walked to our kitchen and got a glass of water and went back up to my room. During this time of reflection, I tried to rationalize what I experienced. I thought maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I had an episode of sleep paralysis. I was familiar with this because I had been diagnosed with sleep apnea, however, not sleep paralysis.

In order for me to know whether I was dreaming or not, I had to go back up to my room and see if what I truly thought happened, actually happened.

I get back to my room and I remember not wanting to look. But lo and behold, my pillows were on the floor in front my bed and remember that pencil I said I saw stand up in my bed?

It was on my bed still.

I was convince that what I encountered actually did happen and it was, in fact, not a dream, and not a case of classic sleep paralysis. You best believe I slept with the door open that night and my TV was on.

This was the first and last time anything like this happened to me. Still gives me chills reliving it.

How about you?

Birdie’s Spooks: A Familiar Voice

My childhood home has always been a bit creepy. There was really no reason for it to feel that way, really. The house was a new build on a large plot of land that would eventually grow into a small subdivision. My family built our home in the winter of 1995 in a tiny, but growing, town. The only thing we knew about the land was that there once used to be a glass factory there before it became an empty plot of land. The history goes there was an explosion inside the factory, but it happened in the middle of the night when no one was on shift. There were no reported deaths. This would explain why we would find chunks of glass EVERYWHERE in the neighborhood.

It could not explain, however, the reason behind all the paranormal experiences that have occurred in the house.

This first story is the earliest memory of my paranormal encounters. My sister and mother always would tell stories, but this was my first personal account. In 2007, my mother and father separated and I was currently living with my mother in our house. I was upstairs playing with my neighbor in my bedroom, which was located above the garage and kitchen. All of our rooms were close together so it was easy to hear when people came and went, where they were in the house, and if someone was cooking in the kitchen or watching TV in the living room.

At the time, we were alone in the house.

It was after school, mother was at work, and my sister was at a friend’s house. We were playing with my hamster, Bob, in his running ball. Out of nowhere, I heard a very familiar voice say my name. Not JUST my name, but my nickname that only my close family would call me. The tone was also unsettling. It sounded like my father shouted my nickname up the stairs in a scolding manner. I turn my head to my friend and ask, “ Did you hear that too?” She reluctantly said yes.

A little back story on my father… As a child, my father and I did not have that idealized father-daughter relationship, per say, there was no favoritism, nor getting away with anything just because I was the baby of the family. Whenever he disciplined me, it was very harsh and stern. There would be times I’d be at the top of the stairs and he would lean over the railing at the base of the stairs and yell my nickname, ‘Renee’ for which I was probably in trouble for something when that happened. So there was no mistaking the voice we heard that day.

After my friend and I heard “Renee!!” being yelled up the stairs, we gathered ourselves together and I walked out my door, down the short hallway. My hair was standing on end, heart was racing, because I knew we were alone – but something in me was hoping my father was somehow standing at the bottom of the stairs, even with the knowledge I had not seen him, nor talked to him, in months. I peered around the corner that was to my left and looked down the stairwell.

Alas, no one was there.

I called out to see if someone was home, despite me knowing even if someone was home, it was only going to be my mother or my sister — not a man. With no response to me, I simply walked back to my bedroom and resumed playing with my friend.

I never told this story to my family until later. That’s when the stories from my mother and sister unraveled. They’ve been having paranormal experiences ever since they could remember. I guess it was about time my experiences began. And boy, did they.

Weekend Escape: Road trip to Salem

“I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog too!”
“Oh, look. Another glorious morning. Makes me sick!”
“Vanquish demon first, kill husband later.”
“Relax…it’s only magic. Now who’s pathetic?”

Witchy quotes to intro into a witchy post. October 2019 Zoe and I decided we absolutely had to embrace our witchy vibes and head to Salem, Massachusetts. Our souls were craving magic, spooks, and to be smacked in the face with with the crunchy smell of fall.

Salem delivered.

Our journey starts on a Friday afternoon, we’re a bit more organized for this trip than the Montreal weekend trip – we leave about the time we say we’re going to and we get to the hostel at a decent time that evening. The drive time was a little over 4-hrs with traffic.

So this is where I’ll level with you, our hostel in all reality is more or less a halfway house. We picked up on those vibes rather quickly as nearly all of the lodgers are an older crowd of folks that are a bit…permanent to the property. That being said, this place was so cheap – and available – that I’ll stop complaining there.

Wait, one last complaint – the old dudes smoked right outside our window shootin’ the shit at all hours and it was near impossible to sleep…that was actually the worst part.

Now back to the fun parts 🙂

The weekend we were in Salem was the weekend before Halloween so you bet that it was crowded and had a plethora of stuff going on. There was a sick Dark Arts Festival held in the evening in the Old Salem Village, and my god it was Chilling Adventures of Sabrina vibes to the max.

I mean just check these vibes:

We also attended a witch trial reenactment, learned about our past lives, our futures, and we went to a midnight seance hosted by mentalist Jon Stetson.

I will say, the seance was cool, but Zoe and I spent like $60 each and thought it was a real seance we were going to. We completely overlooked the keyword “mentalist” which basically is a dude who is incredibly observant of human behavior and has set up specific situations which have a guaranteed result.

He ended with openly saying everything was fake and then used his platform to talk about his life struggles and perseverance.

Which kudos to him, but we thought we were going to be talking to dead people, not messed with mentally and then lectured at the end.

So major advice – don’t rush-book a seance if you want to experience something quality. But totally book this guy, or others of the like, if you’re a scaredy cat but still want to feel like you did something spooky.