by Jim Harold
34. Out-of-Body Visitors
One morning, when I was 18, I believe, I woke up and went to use the little ladies' room. Across the hallway into the parlor I saw my dog sleeping on the couch. My dad had just gone to work and he would've yelled at her if he'd seen her on there, but I didn't. Go ahead and sleep, I thought. I won't bother you. I went over and I gave her a big hug. As I hugged the dog, it seemed I was instantly seeing myself from the ceiling area of the living room.
It was an out-of-body experience. It's interesting that, as I saw myself, I wasn't afraid at all. I just remember thinking, Well, this is weird, you know. Anyway, I was up there looking down at myself, not thinking too much about it, I guess, and then I looked over into the kitchen. Again, I was looking down from the ceiling. I looked over and I saw a man, a very three-dimensional dark shadow of a man wearing a wide-brim hat and a long coat of some sort, just standing there, looking at me sitting on the couch in the living room.
I'm not even sure if I believe in possession or not, but the first thing I thought of when I noticed that he was looking at me was Oh my God, I'm not in there. Maybe he could get into my body.
Before then, there had been no supernatural activity in the house. That was really the first thing that ever happened. From the angle of his hat, I could tell he was looking at me, and it scared me and I gasped. When I gasped, I was instantly back in my body again, on the couch, looking into the kitchen where I had seen him, and the dog was looking there too. I wasn't scared, but I didn't want to be in the parlor anymore.
It is understandable that some people think it was a dream. I'd probably think the same thing if I was hearing the story and it didn't happen to me. The only thing I can say is that I know I was awake, because I woke up and walked out there. You know, I slept well. It's not like it was really late at night or I hadn't rested for an extended period of time.
After that, there was something else that happened in the same home that was very strange. Hopefully most people hearing this won't think I'm half a lunatic! I think I'd be questioning if I heard this. What happened this time was probably several months later. This was later at night, maybe around 10 o'clock, and my dad was asleep in the back room. I was on the phone. I walked from my room to the bathroom, again, and looked across the parlor (because the way the house went, there's my room, and across the hall there's a bathroom, but to your left if you look across there's the parlor, and the kitchen after that, and a big mirror on the far wall of the kitchen). So, as I was walking, I glanced into the mirror, being a typical vain teenage girl, and I saw in the room behind me what I can only describe as a gray alien head, only the ears I remember being pointed like Spock or something.
I didn't hear any voices or anything like that; I just got the feeling that the thing was probably just as shocked as I was, because when I just saw its head it wasn't looking at me. It was looking straight ahead the other way, so I was seeing it from the side. I gasped and looked away. I looked back, thinking, It's not going to be there, this is too outrageous, this can't be happening. As I turned my head and looked back it was still sitting there, and it turned its head and looked at me. When it did, I just got this feeling...
I'll never forget those black eyes. They were just black as black, but I just got the feeling that it was in shock that I was there looking at it. It left me with a lot of questions and I don't know that I'll ever have the answers.
-Jennifer, Montana
35. The Night Visitor
It's a little hard to start with this. I haven't told too many people.
Probably when I was about 20 years old, I went to bed one night and I remember waking in the middle of the night. I had a sense or a feeling that there were beings or entities around me, and the strange thing was actually that I was awake, but I wasn't in my room. The other thing was, I was pretty much immobile. I couldn't move from the bed. The only light normally in the room when I slept was a blue alarm clock. But now I saw light coming through the window. It was also blue but an encompassing light—that's really the best I can say.
In particular, I remember one being that was standing over me, and he had—I say "he" but I'm not really sure what it was, because it looked like it wore a dark cloak, I guess you could say. But out of his dark cloak he had his finger pressed on my forehead, and that is actually what I felt, what was holding me down. Honestly, I was terrified. All I wanted to do was just scream and get out of there. This thing was holding me down with its finger, and it was kind of a long, very cold finger, and I remember a single black fingernail.
Since this experience it's been about 12 years, and I've had some things happen to me, and I've almost made peace with it. I've heard some other people tell their stories on the Campfire, and I kind of hope that someone might hear this and shed some light on it. And, too, I've been thinking, soul-searching about this particular instance, and I kind of have a theory of my own. But if I may just kind of get back to that place...
At the time this happened—if I can paint the picture a little better—at the time I was 20 years old, and I lived with my father and my brother, and I was on the second floor of a Cape Cod–style home. My brother was asleep in the bedroom across the hall. And, like I said, when this happened I was asleep; I did wake up and I distinguished the outline of this figure standing over me. As it came closer to put its finger on my forehead, I could see its face, and it was very humanoid-looking, with larger eyes that I would describe as black. I couldn't really detect a pupil. Just deep, black, soulless eyes. And it was staring at me and had its finger on my forehead. And as this was happening I had a sense of other beings around me.
This is going to sound weird, but the bed I was lying on...it felt like a different bed. It was cold; it was hard. I had blue sheets on my mattress, but the sheets that were actually on me were black. I know that's a weird detail to remember, but I did. I remembered it.
I had the sense that my body had been transported elsewhere by whatever means. To be honest with you, I can't get past the cover of that famous book Communion. Which is kind of funny. But, see, about the cover of that book, it's close to what I saw that night, but it's not quite right. I mean, it was pale, but this thing that I saw, its face was pale, but it wasn't the gray alien that he described. It was pale, and it was humanoid-looking, but it had no expression; no emotion. It wasn't friendly, and I got the sense of no feeling or no emotion.
I was physically terrified at this point, I have to tell you. I have suffered in the past from night terrors, which you'd probably say is the old-hag syndrome, but this was a totally different experience. With this, I was awake. And at the conclusion of this, I got a feeling of whatever was around me, whatever beings were around me, doing what they were doing...they went away, and the last thing was this one taller being in this dark cloak, still staring at me with the blue light that just encompassed me...he basically started backing away into the light, and he took his finger off my forehead, and that's when I noticed the black fingernail. As it started disappearing into the blue light, I remember seeing its pale face kind of disappear into the black cloak, and once that happened, I was back in the darkness of my normal room.
At that point I literally jumped out of my bed. My brother can confirm this—I ran into the door so hard that I actually put a crack in the wooden door with my shoulder. I was fumbling for the handle; I couldn't get out of the room, and I remember him turning on the hallway light and opening the door, and he kind of looked at me, scared but kind of laughing, and he asked me what I was doing. And I looked at him and I couldn't say anything other than that I had no idea.
I've had experiences since then, but nothing like this one. That was probably the worst case of it, and the most frightening. It might even have been the first time. But it seems like what is going on is more like a telepathy or something. (And this isn't only my opinion; I've done some readings, I've heard some other podcasts, and even your show.)
The most recent experience I've had was just a month or two ago, and it'
s actually what prompted me to respond to the show...
I was sleeping in bed with my wife, lying on my side looking at the side of the room and dreaming of what was essentially the head of this gray alien, kind of walking in the room towards me. The room is bright white. I know I'm dreaming, and I want to get out of my dream. I'm kind of scared, but it starts smiling at me and puts up its hand to wave, which is very, very weird. Then the light explodes and I want to wake up, but I'm having sleep paralysis. I roll over onto my back, I scream, and I open my eyes, and above my eyes there's—what do you call them? An orange ball of energy kind of floating over my head. And as I start to wake up, it dissipates, the little molecules of energy dissipate, and my wife put her hand on my shoulder and asked me what was wrong. And again I couldn't really tell her. I couldn't even describe it. But again, whatever was going on, it wasn't in the room with me. Maybe I saw an energy or had an energy or a presence in the room, and it was maybe communicating telepathically, I don't know.
-Shane, New Jersey
PART THREE: TALES OF DREAMS AND DEATH
Few experiences impact a person more than a communication with a deceased loved one or a supernatural event surrounding a death. I should know, because the former happened to me. (But more on that later.)
Another area we delve into at times on the Campfire is that of strange dreams, either those that put us in touch with the "other side" or foretell some future doom. Even if they are Scrooge's "undigested gruel," these dreams have a way in getting inside our heads—where they tend to take up permanent residence.
Has anything like this happened to you? Have you found yourself dreaming of or talking to dead relatives lately? Whether yea or nay, these experiences make for great stories. Let's take our seats back around the Campfire to hear about some of these life-changing events.
36. Love Is Like a Butterfly
My story is about my grandfather.
In the summer of 1997, I was working for my parents. They owned a car lot, and my job was to check the cars in the morning to make sure there was no vandalism or anything, and make sure everything was locked up.
I was making my rounds one morning, and I came across a tiger butterfly on the concrete, on the lot, and it was dead. It was perfectly preserved and beautiful—not damaged or anything. Now, I've always been kind of a cynic and I'm not a big crier. But I picked it up, and I just had this well of emotion come over me. I went into the office with my mom, showed her the butterfly, and I just couldn't stop crying. It was just so absurd...you don't cry over a dead butterfly. My mom was very understanding about my reaction, but she didn't understand it, either.
A few minutes later the phone rang, and it was my grandmother saying that the ambulance was coming to pick Papa up because he thought that he was dying. This was not the first time that he'd had that fear (Papa had had lung cancer for several years at that point). You know. Cancer—it's so hard on the body.
I asked, "Should I go with you to the hospital?" She said, "No, stay here at the lot; I'll call you if I need you to come up there." I said okay. She went on up to the hospital and I stayed.
It wasn't long. Probably after about...oh, 45 minutes or so, she called and said, "You need to come on up here." So, I locked the car lot up real fast—I don't think I'd set the alarm; I just locked up and ran. It was a small town, and there weren't a whole lot of stoplights, but I think I ran every single one to get to the hospital.
When I got there, my uncle told me to go on back to Papa's room, so I did, and I got there just in time to see him take his last breath.
I know that I screamed something when the doctor said that he was gone. I just...I didn't want to let him go.
Anyway, after he passed, we all went back to my grandmother's house and already there was sweet tea and chicken and people were bringing stuff over. But I had this feeling...I just needed to get away. I couldn't...I wasn't hungry; I just needed some space.
So I went for a drive in the country, kind of aimlessly. And while I was driving, I saw a little pond alongside the road. I pulled over, got out, and just sat by the pond. I could never find this place again; it was just one of those places by the road. I was just sitting there and this huge swarm of tiger butterflies was everywhere. There were 20 or 30 of them. They were in my hair, they were on my shoulders, they were on the grass at my feet, they were by the pond...they were everywhere.
Usually when you see them, they might be passing by on the breeze as they migrate on, but all of a sudden, I was surrounded by them, and they were in my hair and on my shoulder, and then they just took off. It was just...just magical. In that situation, you just kind of sit there and think, Did that really happen? It was so fast...but it felt like forever when they were touching me, and then they were gone. To this day—and I told my mother this story, and it's kind of a bond we have now—if I'm having a bad day, or if my mother's having a bad day, a little tiger butterfly, or a little yellow butterfly will go by, on a day that you need to see it. I kid you not, it could be the dead of winter, when there's no bud anywhere outside. It is just the most bizarre thing in the world. That day, Papa was communicating with me. I believe that; I honestly do. I'll always believe that.
-Beth, North Carolina
37. A Vision of Uncle Charlie
When I was growing up, I didn't have my grandparents, but we had a close family friend that I kind of adopted as my grandparent. He was older and would spend time with our family, and we became close. Probably a little closer than I thought. (As I tell the story you'll see why.) I always called him Uncle Charlie. One night, when I was around 11, I went to bed, and had a very odd dream, one that was so striking that I woke up the next morning and told my mother about it.
It was strange, and very vivid. I still remember it today, and I'm in my 40s. The dream was in a sepia tone, which (for people who don't know what that is) is sort of brown and white. Almost like an old movie.
The dream was set in what appeared to be a dungeon of some type with stone walls and a stone slab, and a person was lying on the slab. There were four or five people shorter in height than what I would consider normal-sized, all wearing white. They surrounded the stone slab and then started to actually pound the chest of the person who was on the stone slab. I got a look at the person on the stone slab and it was Uncle Charlie. I probably remember five or eight minutes of the dream very vividly, but that was the core. The crux of the dream was the constant pounding on this person's chest in the dream, and these smaller people scurrying around and doing this action over and over and over again. Finally, a white sheet that was on my Uncle Charlie was pulled completely over him.
There were no religious icons during the dream. It kind of played out in my mind as an old-fashioned movie, so that was weird. There were torches on the wall almost like an old Frankenstein-type movie. It was strange.
The next morning, my mother and I were sitting around the table having breakfast, and I told her the story. She looked me in the eye and told me that before I had gotten up, she had received a phone call that my Uncle Charlie had died that evening, while I was asleep. He had had a heart attack, and they tried to revive him using all sorts of measures that have something to do with resuscitating and pounding—all the things I had seen. What I saw was pretty convoluted compared to what actually happened. I'm guessing that Uncle Charlie was actually thinking of me, maybe, during this process, and projected it into my head, into my dream, so I kind of saw what was happening. What I saw was almost in a different form of reality, but it was what was happening. I saw it almost like an old-fashioned movie, and it still haunts me to this day. Not in a bad way, but it was so vivid. It was probably one of the most vivid dreams I've had in my life, and I was dreaming it the same time that he was dying.
My initial reaction after my mother told me he'd died was just one of being freaked out, not knowing why I would have those images. I guess my mother was the one who immediately comforted me by telling me that it was probably a good thing: In a way, it was my
Uncle Charlie's way of showing how close I was to him. I viewed him as a grandfather; he may have viewed me as a grandson figure. I guess in a way, my mother was at least trying to comfort me by telling me that his last thoughts on this earth were thoughts of me, and somehow it got passed along to me.
I was freaked out in the beginning of the dream, but it wasn't a scary situation; there was no blood or gore or anything like that. It was more the images of him trying to be revived. So I guess I've always looked at it as a positive image. I haven't had an experience like that since, so I don't know why it happened. I'm only speculating that we were on the same wavelength for that short period of time that evening.
I wish I'd have other experiences like it, so I'd have something to which to compare it. Maybe I'll never have another like it again, but the way I look at it is that, for those two or three minutes, that vivid part of the dream that stuck in my head (and is still stuck there), there was some sort of connection going on, between someone who was dying and someone who was close to him, which was me. And I can't explain it any other way...I wish I could. I wish I knew. It's an experience that I'll always remember. Regardless, I know that it's valid and true.
-Rich, Massachusetts
38. Mom's Deathbed
When my mom was in her 80s, she took ill from multiple strokes. We took care of her for quite a few years. She had a great sense of humor, and was a wonderful person. Eventually, though, she deteriorated to the point where we had to put her into a hospital down the street. Then one evening, we got the call that her oxygen level had dropped to 65 percent, and the whole family rushed to her bedside.
