I love talking about Ghosts and even more so, I love sharing ghost stories. Fall moves towards winter and death is in the forefront of our mind as we watch the trees and flowers wither and die only to be reborn in the spring. As Halloween draws ever nigh, we plan our parties and what we are going to wear. We enjoy all things witchy and that includes ghosts and goblins, bats and spiders, and all things creepy especially things that go bump in the night.

In my family, I grew up with stories about dreams, death, and spirits being told every day. Spiritualistic in belief, my parents passed down many ghost stories and we, in turn, had experiences of our own to talk about.

Here are a few stories I like to share. They are somewhat based on a Christian perspective to some degree considering my family clung to their loosely translated Christian beliefs. Much of my parent’s beliefs were contradictory to Christianity but considering the family history, it seems that family traditions were merely influenced by Christianity although not exactly Christian in nature. I grew up believing in God and Satan, Angels and Demons mixed with spiritualism.

The Day Pop Pop died.

I was six months old, my maternal grandfather had already passed, my paternal grandmother had already passed and so did my great-grandparents. As a six-month-old normally does, I was keeping my parents awake so they brought me to their bed. They had me sleeping between them with both of their heads resting on the same pillow. They had fallen asleep.

At 6 am they were both awakened at the same time from a very disturbing dream. They both had unusually similar dreams that were by description, the exact same dream. They sat up in bed at the same time and just looked at each other. They told each other their dreams.

They were at a funeral looking out of the casket through the eyes of the dead. They saw everyone pass by the coffin including themselves. They took note of all the people they saw and they considered who they didn’t see pass by the coffin. They didn’t see my paternal grandfather. They were left feeling at odds with the contents of their dream and with the possibilities of reality. Neither of them wanted to think the most horrible thought about death. Later that morning they got the news. My father’s Father was dead. He had died early that morning or late in the prior evening.

Within a few days, they attended the funeral of my Paternal Grandfather. It was eerily similar to what they had seen only from their own point of view outside the coffin looking down at my Grandfather in the coffin. My parents swear that it was a prophetic dream. My parents believe it was a message from beyond the grave. My grandfather’s way of saying goodbye.

The Seance and the Demon

I was about 16 almost 17 when I went to my oldest sister’s house for a brief stay. While I was away, my youngest sister and my other older sister who had previously and sadly lost her baby to Myocarditis. It was an infection of the Myocardium of the heart. She didn’t have a chance to survive and my sister was devastated by the loss of her infant.

They decided they were going to use my bedroom as their Seance room. I had a giant mirror in there with two big windows and my sisters had not a clue how to properly conduct a seance. They really needed my Great Grandmother Millie but they did it on their own anyway.

I got home and weird things were happening in my room. I was awakened in the night hearing noises and things moving around in my closet. The drawers in my built-in dresser would open and slam closed on their own. My room was heavy and the air was thick leaving a feeling of suffocation. It was shrouded in what seemed like a dark cloud that seemed to filter the light and left the room feeling horrible and unlivable. I had strange things happening in my room and I stopped hanging out in it.

One night, my four-year-old niece came into my room. She had a bad dream and was scared and asked if she could sleep with me in my room. I always had this feeling of dread in my room in the dark at night so I had a nightlight on. I told her she could and I told her to hurry up and get into the bed and under the covers.

Between her and my bed was a giant stuffed unicorn. as she passed by it, this thing lunged at her. This was super creepy and frightened us both. I quickly grabbed her and pulled her under the covers. We laid there clinging to each other in fear until the sun came up.

Over the next few months, I was tormented with feelings of dread, I couldn’t sleep in my room and my family laughed at me. They said I was crazy. I decided that I was being haunted by a demon. I believed that my sisters had opened a portal and brought something through. They didn’t use any protective measures and they didn’t close this portal when they were finished with the seance.

Depression, sleep deprivation, anxiety and bad things were affecting my waking life. I decided I was going to handle this myself considering none of my family were going to be of any use. Not even my pesky sisters who caused the problem in the first place were willing to help.

I pulled out my trusty King James Bible and opened it up to the passage about when Jesus cast out the demons and sent them into the swine who then committed suicide.

I set up a little altar, placed my open Bible on the table. My Spirit Guide whispering in my ear what I needed to do. I read the words of Jesus, I directed my energy, and as I said my final words with all the power I could muster, There was a huge slam and everything in my room seemed to explode from the energy from the center of my room outward. With the loud explosion, my father came barging into my room demanding to know what the Hell I was doing because it sounded like I was going to tear the house down.

Let me remind you that I was standing in the center of my room in front of my altar with my Bible on it merely saying words when this explosion happened. It was mere unseen energy leaving my room. I banished the Demon that was in my room but I had forgotten one important thing. I didn’t close the portal.

For some time the energy in my room was back to normal. It was nice without any events of slamming drawers and moving objects and things that only happen in the movies. Now, these things were back in the theatrics of movies and no longer a part of my everyday life as a teenager.


The last days just after my 18th birthday, just before my son was born. I awoke one morning, unable to breathe, speak, or move. I opened my eyes and saw this hideous creature at the end of the bed. I gave the most powerful psychic scream I could do. It merely sounded like a croak coming through partially parted lips but with that, the creature was gone. I moved just a few weeks later.

Rumor has it that the next teen to get that room killed their whole family and was serving time in a prison psych ward.

The Dream about Death

It was the end of my first two years of Wicca. I was still trying to figure some things out and one of those things was to decide what exactly I believed about death and the cycle of rebirth. I was asking a lot of questions about death. Not many people really had much of an idea about death itself. I was staying the night at a friends house. It was in a rural area down a long narrow road. It was a small farmhouse on a small farm. There were cows and a barn with a horse in it. She had some dogs and a parrot.

It was right at the crack of dawn. These types of dreams always seem to come at that moment between night and day. I found myself just outside the window of the room I was asleep in. I stood there watching people pass by. Every once in a while, someone would look back at me as they passed. Some people would ask me if I needed some help. I would just say no, not really sure why I am here. A man and a woman stood next to me and we talked about where I was.

Then a little boy about 12 years old stopped to talk to me. He said his name was David and that he died when he was 12. He clearly saw that I had not died yet. He stated that I had some questions and that he would be happy to help.

I asked about death itself.  I asked if it hurt to die and I asked about his own death. What is it like to die?

He told me he died when he was twelve of Pneumonia. He said dying doesn’t hurt, it is what happens to you before you die that determines if it hurts. He told me that what he experienced was more of a discomfort than pain.

Before long, he told me I had best get back. I woke up and looked out the window. The sun was shining and it looked just like it did in my dream only without all the people. They were all gone. I was excited about my dream and I wanted to tell someone. I called my parents.

My father answered. It was still pretty early in the morning. I told my dad all about the boy named David. How he died and what he looked like and all that. I finished my story and paused. My father was silent. I asked if he was there and if he had heard my story. He said he did.

I heard him take a deep breath. He told me that morning that I had a second cousin or something named David who died when he was 12. this event was long before I was born. He died of Pneumonia. I was never around that family or anyone who would have known about this little boy and he swore that no one had spoken of him since it happened. There was no way I could have known about him yet I described him exactly as my father remembered. He said it was a little disconcerting to hear such an accurate story of someone whom I had no prior knowledge of…

These are three of my favorite stories about experiences involving ghosts and death. There are many stories about spirits and ghosts and demons that one can hear if sitting with my family at any family gathering. I love talking about these things and I have plenty of stories like these as well. The stories we hear involving ghosts, spirits, and demons, prophetic dreams and more are all experiences from a perspective that is influenced by Spiritualism.

It is this time of year that makes these stories come alive. I love This season. It is a great way to bring in the cold, dead season of Winter as this year ends and a new one begins.