“Unlocking Fear: 50 Haunting Words That Will Leave You Breathless and Bewildered”
I had that dream for several times over the span of two years. And each time, it was the same. Come home. Call your brother and tell him I’m pissed at him. Fix this place, it’s falling apart. I’d wake up with a feeling of sadness.
We finally settled the estate, and my sister called me to come over to help her clean up the main home. And when I walked in, I was hit by the rank smell of mold. Turns out, the roof had been damaged in some long-ago storm, the executor had done nothing about it (probably because he wasn’t the one inheriting it, the git), and the place had quickly deteriorated. In several rooms, the walls were buckling with water damage, and almost all the walls were stained with mold. In my old bedroom and in the adjoining sitting room, the floor had rotted away.
In order to renovate the place, we’d literally have to strip the home down to the exterior walls and studs. My sister was furious, and I don’t blame her. She was supposed to “move back home”, and instead, she has to tear down a century-old place and start over.
The hairs on the back of my neck still prickle when I think about those dreams. I knew before I knew. And I can’t help but wonder if my brother had dreams where our father was fussing at him, because the only reason (in life) that my dad would call me and ask me to talk to a sibling, was because my dad had already talked to that sibling and had not gotten results.
After swim class at a YMCA, I was 10 years old in a locker room with only one other person in there, a middle age man, he was tying his shoes as I went into a stall to change. As I got out of the stall, he said, “Hey kid, do you hear that?” Obviously my stranger danger senses kicked in, but I did tried to remain quiet and then I actually did hear what he was talking about, it was like someone’s heavy breathing and then footsteps on walls, the concrete walls, like wet footsteps traveling up the back wall. I don’t believe in ghost or anything, so there probably was an explanation, but it was still freaky and I was young. I looked at him, and he was staring up the wall following the foot steps, I remember how terrified and concerned his face was, I don’t know why, but he suddenly hurried me out of the locker room, and he ran over to his friends to tell them what we had heard, and I ran to my grandpa. I saw him a couple more times throughout the year. Everytime I drive by the now closed YMCA I think about that.
That she’d k*lled both her parents and shot herself in the head but lived…the second group therapy session.
My daughter, at about 4 years old, sat bolt upright in bed as I was passing her room one night and said “Dark forces are coming, mummy” in a completely conversational tone. She then went right back to sleep, leaving me and her father slightly antsy for tthe next few days.
About a month later I realised it was from a trailer for Ben-10 🫣
