Has anything genuinely creepy or unnerving ever happened to you?

maccored

ive never understood why a ghost would hang around a cemetery. they would have died days before so if there are such things as ghosts, it would be away off being a ghost long before the remains got the the cemetery

New Home

Lost souls?

gozunda

maccored wrote: »

ive never understood why a ghost would hang around a cemetery. they would have died days before so if there are such things as ghosts, it would be away off being a ghost long before the remains got the the cemetery

There's a short story* which has a very humourous account of those who have died sitting on their respective graves - all giving out to each other, fighting and gossiping just as they had in real life. Bit like boards I suppose ,)

I think the tradition about ghosts is that they are tied to the vicinity of their earthly remains or sometimes the place where they passed away as their souls remain stuck there.

Edit: I'll post an overview of that story* below.

CountNjord

I've had unusual experiences,I remember being off my head on drink and drug's back in 2003 and I was walking home through the town park.
Walked through a wooded area and I met all these people in their 20's sitting on benches in the wooded area.
Anyhow I got chatting with them and they basically told me to get my act together and kick the hooch and chemicals.
They told me they were all dead from drink and drug's, and are there to give me a wake up call.
I had one more mad binge after that and didn't touch a drug or drink since.
But I still remember all those good looking guys and women on those benches.

Another time I seen a pile of bone's in my grandmother's field in Kerry I was a kid, I ran into tell my dad and he came out with me...they were gone.
Same happened a few days later and I didn't bother telling dad.

My grandmother's house was built on a ley line or fairy path in North Kerry.
A bleak place beside the river Feale.
She was afraid of nothing but she always told my parents to get rid of the house when she passes on, it's haunted and never sleep there with the kids when she's gone.
She reckoned it was an old pagan entity which tried to torment her, she had her bedroom covered in holy pictures to keep it out, similar to the priest's room in the Omen covered in biblical pages.
She never went to mass or believed in God but for some reason she put all her holy stuff on the walls of her bedroom.

There was a back room in the house we all felt unnerved walking by, and she always said leave the door open...
The locals warned her and my grandfather not to build on that part of the acre.
The old house was down by the road and they said knock the old house and build on top a bit further back from the road.

I'm sceptical about all this stuff but that house was definitely intriguing and will remain in my memory until the day I die.
I go down there fly-fishing during the summer, and looking at the house from the river Feale it still looks errie.
It's in Brosna Co Kerry...
A bleak place Eddie Lenihan comes from there and he reckons there's a lot of activity in the area.

Another guy who's dead now, told me that the land around Brosna is full of sadness and all that's left is the old people.

I don't really bother arguing or debating with people about this stuff, because they're not interested in the Paranormal or feel it could be real.

There's a lot of explanation but there's a hell of a lot of people trying to undermine people's stories and experiences too.

As I said I'm sceptical but I'd prefer if it was true rather than not.
Because I'd embrace a spooky experience rather than recoil from it.
I walk old road's through Hazelwoods at night with a torch and spare batteries and listening to the sounds of the night is fascinating.
Animals breaking twig's in the woods and owl's and bats fluttering by, I love rural living and emulate the old ways.
Walking to these places in the dark isn't frightening but it sure is exciting...

Until next time...

gozunda

"Cré na Cille"

I love the picture of this story by Máirtín Ó Cadhain who presents the dead and buried going on bickeing and giving out as they had in real life ...

All of the characters in “Cré na Cille” are dead. . They are not ghosts or spirits but rather chattering, coffin-bound corpses, buried in a graveyard on Ireland’s west coast during the Second World War. They have left behind a world of rural hardship—a place where poor, Irish-speaking farmers eke out a living selling seaweed and periwinkles and coaxing potatoes out of rocky soil—only to find the bitter squabbles and petty pretensions of their villages continuing unabated in the ground. The book has no plot to speak of and unfolds entirely through dialogue. Dozens of voices make themselves known through a circuitous invocation of grievances and gossip: the Big Master, a haughty schoolteacher, declares his widow a “harlot” upon learning she quickly remarried after his death; Nora Johnny, a woman who once spent scandalous evenings with sailors in Galway nightclubs, insists she’s found “culture” in the grave; an insurance salesman brags about the villagers he swindled; an elderly woman insists she’d still be alive if she’d had the strength to lift herself out of the fire she fell into one day; someone repeatedly pledges allegiance to Hitler. Above all others rises the voice of Caitriona Paudeen, a viperous old woman who has long despised her (still-living) sister Nell, for marrying a man they both loved:

"I thought I’d live for another couple of years, and I’d bury her before me, the ****. She’s gone down a bit since her son got injured. She was going to the doctor for a good bit before that, of course. But there’s nothing wrong with her. Rheumatism. Sure, that wouldn’t kill her for years yet […] I nearly buried her. If I had lived just a tiny little bit more …"

The inhabitants of the graveyard are hopelessly self-involved, but the book transcends their narrow purview. Their quotidian fixations and pious self-posturing achieve a magnificently improbable universality: look past the talk of seaweed farming and pilgrimages to sacred wells, and you start to sense that the corpses’ gripes and tall-tales—about drunken excursions, sticky-fingered neighbors, scheming paramours—are the same ones heard at bars and bus stops from Baltimore to Beijing.

https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/the-irish-novel-thats-so-good-people-were-scared-to-translate-it

Maybe we're all dead here too :pac:

up for anything

Dtp1979 wrote: »

Is a cemetery not considered sacred?

Yes of course cemeteries and graveyards are but I've never heard people refer to them as sacred spaces. Consecrated or holy ground, yes. To me the term sacred space would be more the term used for the holy places belonging to the pagan/old religions rather than say the Christian spaces. I was interested to know if Autosport worked some place interesting. His signature mentions an elevator so mentally I placed him in the US.

ReginaldSmythV wrote: »

Some people are so anti religion they need to tell everyone always, it’s like when someone doesn’t have Facebook.

What are you waffling on about? Anti-religion and Facebook? Where di you get that? Assumptions are the mother of all ****-ups as I learned here just now.

JustAThought

maccored wrote: »

ive never understood why a ghost would hang around a cemetery. they would have died days before so if there are such things as ghosts, it would be away off being a ghost long before the remains got the the cemetery

If you look at old graveyards a lot of them are planted with yew trees - I was told this was to keep the dead IN - they cannot pass yews.

JustAThought

I rented an old cottage a while back - it was a few hundred years old and partnof a grand old estate - what they call ‘sympathetically restored’. Lovely sunlit spacious entrance way and staircase to the upstairs rooms with a window seat. I NEVER felt right coming through or using the suntrap there - and at night despite radiators a corner of the room was always freezing and had a really bad feel to it. I kept saying to myself it was all in my mind but even the dog would whine and refuse to sit there and would whimper and refuse to go upstairs past the spot. Chills me still to think about it.

saabsaab

JustAThought wrote: »

I rented an old cottage a while back - it was a few hundred years old and partnof a grand old estate - what they call ‘sympathetically restored’. Lovely sunlit spacious entrance way and staircase to the upstairs rooms with a window seat. I NEVER felt right coming through or using the suntrap there - and at night despite radiators a corner of the room was always freezing and had a really bad feel to it. I kept saying to myself it was all in my mind but even the dog would whine and refuse to sit there and would whimper and refuse to go upstairs past the spot. Chills me still to think about it.

Did you know the history of the place?

Say my name

JustAThought wrote: »

If you look at old graveyards a lot of them are planted with yew trees - I was told this was to keep the dead IN - they cannot pass yews.

In farmer parlance it's to keep the local farmers in doing all in their power to stop their sheep and cattle entering into the graveyards.
If cattle or sheep eat Yew they are poisoned and death is probable. Any local farmer would maintain the fence around a graveyard if not for respect, then to prevent their stock from being poisoned.

Not really a scary story. But I was drawing a load of straw home with a tractor and trailer one evening which I usually don't do as I don't want to be on the road with such a rig in the dark.
I was roughly five miles from home in the dark with the lights on. No radio on as I have to keep an eye on the strapping on the load as I travel.
I was on a quiet road no traffic, no houses, and I was passing by an old estate farm. There's a modern natural burial ground on the old estate where a tree is planted over the deceased. So I passed by the entrance to the burial ground with no issue.
Then a hundred metres on I had to turn and slow down with a bend in the road at the entrance to the estate and into a strong wooded area where the crowns of the trees meet over the road.
For some reason going through the wooded area and with the full work lights of the tractor on. This image came to my mind of an old woman walking out from the woods to the edge of the road. She had long hair and wearing a white nightie.
Her hair was covering her face.
I knew she wasn't there nor that I had seen her. But I felt a fear as I was going by that particular spot. And that if I physically did see her I'd probably be dead myself.
I kept the rev's on the tractor up and got home as quick as I could.

Solli

gozunda wrote: »

"Cré na Cille"

I love the picture of this story by Máirtín Ó Cadhain who presents the dead and buried going on bickeing and giving out as they had in real life ...



https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/the-irish-novel-thats-so-good-people-were-scared-to-translate-it

Maybe we're all dead here too :pac:

Druid players dramatised this play for TG4 some years ago. Stayed up with my dad watching it, we were spellbound. It was so unusual, I can recall every character. He fell very ill shortly afterwards and I am very grateful for that was one of our last nights by the fire. I just bought the dvd in his memory

igCorcaigh

Solli wrote: »

Druid players dramatised this play for TG4 some years ago. Stayed up with my dad watching it, we were spellbound. It was so unusual, I can recall every character. He fell very ill shortly afterwards and I am very grateful for that was one of our last nights by the fire. I just bought the dvd in his memory

Is this it?

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0971161/

Solli

igCorcaigh wrote: »

Is this it?

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0971161/

No it was Cre na Cille by Mairtin O Direain.

Graces7

New Home wrote: »

Lost souls?

with unfinished business here on earth ...

Graces7

JustAThought wrote: »

I rented an old cottage a while back - it was a few hundred years old and partnof a grand old estate - what they call ‘sympathetically restored’. Lovely sunlit spacious entrance way and staircase to the upstairs rooms with a window seat. I NEVER felt right coming through or using the suntrap there - and at night despite radiators a corner of the room was always freezing and had a really bad feel to it. I kept saying to myself it was all in my mind but even the dog would whine and refuse to sit there and would whimper and refuse to go upstairs past the spot. Chills me still to think about it.

My place in Orkney had seen bad things and that lingered, and I learned what that was ie what had happened there.

Tig98

Solli wrote: »

No it was Cre na Cille by Mairtin O Direain.

Just an FYI the original version is Cre na Cille and is written in Irish, and the version translated to English is Graveyard Clay

saabsaab

I was told this story by a man not given to flights of fancy or discussing anything out of the ordinary.


Many years ago he was walking home at night with an older cousin, he being about 13 the cousin 17 or so. As they approached a turn in the road a giant flaming dog jumped up on the ditch and glared at them. They were terrified and he turned to run but his cousin grabbed him and said that it would bring a curse on them to run away. They walked on past holding silver coins in their hands and the glowing dog keeping eyes on it and it stayed where it was, staring back. As they made distance from the spot they looked back and it was gone.

Ficheall

Well, the silver coins bit sounds suspect..

Kingp35

saabsaab wrote: »

I was told this story by a man not given to flights of fancy or discussing anything out of the ordinary.


Many years ago he was walking home at night with an older cousin, he being about 13 the cousin 17 or so. As they approached a turn in the road a giant flaming dog jumped up on the ditch and glared at them. They were terrified and he turned to run but his cousin grabbed him and said that it would bring a curse on them to run away. They walked on past holding silver coins in their hands and the glowing dog keeping eyes on it and it stayed where it was, staring back. As they made distance from the spot they looked back and it was gone.

That made me laugh out load Ridiculous.

saabsaab

Very weird I know but he swore it was true, he also said he told no one else at the time as nobody else would believe them. Several years later he asked his cousin what did he think it was but the cousin didn't want to talk about it at all, at all. He never saw anything like it since. I think the silver was supposed to protect you from evil spirits or some such.

dubstarr

I had a weird dreram about my son the other night.

Now hes a grown man now, but in the dream he was in school .And he rang me and told me he didnt know where he lived. So i go the the school, son standing in the hallway waiting for me. He comes over and his eyes are black, puts his arms around me and repeats that he doesnt know where he lives.

I woke up then, really freaked me out.

saabsaab

dubstarr wrote: »

I had a weird dreram about my son the other night.

Now hes a grown man now, but in the dream he was in school .And he rang me and told me he didnt know where he lived. So i go the the school, son standing in the hallway waiting for me. He comes over and his eyes are black, puts his arms around me and repeats that he doesnt know where he lives.

I woke up then, really freaked me out.

It could be said that such an anxiety dream is not really about your son at all. That you are in fear of losing some part of your former life forever and don't know what to do about it?

Jenna James

When I was younger we always went on Sunday drives. I absolutely hated it. The unpredictability of the day really stressed me out.

Anyway, one night, I was about 7/8, I dreamt we were on a Sunday drive, my folks and younger sibling. We pulled up to a roadside house where some 'friends' of ours lived. (No correlation to my knowledge in real life).

In the dream I was a brat and refused to go in but instead lay down on my back in the middle of the road. I remember what it felt like for a car to come and run me over and how it felt to be dead. I can still vividly picture the whole scene and I don't remember a lot about my life.

saabsaab

Jenna James wrote: »

When I was younger we always went on Sunday drives. I absolutely hated it. The unpredictability of the day really stressed me out.

Anyway, one night, I was about 7/8, I dreamt we were on a Sunday drive, my folks and younger sibling. We pulled up to a roadside house where some 'friends' of ours lived. (No correlation to my knowledge in real life).

In the dream I was a brat and refused to go in but instead lay down on my back in the middle of the road. I remember what it felt like for a car to come and run me over and how it felt to be dead. I can still vividly picture the whole scene and I don't remember a lot about my life.

It might be said that there was something you did that you were ashamed of and you were ready to change your ways.

up for anything

dubstarr wrote: »

I had a weird dreram about my son the other night.

Now hes a grown man now, but in the dream he was in school .And he rang me and told me he didnt know where he lived. So i go the the school, son standing in the hallway waiting for me. He comes over and his eyes are black, puts his arms around me and repeats that he doesnt know where he lives.

I woke up then, really freaked me out.

Have you read about black-eyed children? Don't tell him where you live if he turns up in your dreams again.

dubstarr

up for anything wrote: »

Have you read about black-eyed children? Don't tell him where you live if he turns up in your dreams again.

I have heard about them,i think thats what freaked me out.**** what does that mean?

Actually this reminds me.Its the same son

I had my 3 rd baby and the middle son was about 13[starting secondary school funnily enough]

Anyway, i was upstairs feeding the baby and my son goes from the loo in to his room. Literally 2 seconds later the same son comes upstairs. And in to his room he goes.
I put baby down and go in,hes the only one in there and i ask has he been in the loo.He says no,hes been downstairs for ages.

I ask my dp and he says he was downstairs.



And the reason i was going to post,i had a dream last night about dps sister.She had another baby, a boy and i even seen his face.He was a normal baby

Autosport

What’s a dp?

The Mighty Quinn

Forum slang that's not used on boards. Dear Partner = DP.

DD, DS... dear son, dear daughter...

saabsaab

dubstarr wrote: »

I have heard about them,i think thats what freaked me out.**** what does that mean?

Actually this reminds me.Its the same son

I had my 3 rd baby and the middle son was about 13[starting secondary school funnily enough]

Anyway, i was upstairs feeding the baby and my son goes from the loo in to his room. Literally 2 seconds later the same son comes upstairs. And in to his room he goes.
I put baby down and go in,hes the only one in there and i ask has he been in the loo.He says no,hes been downstairs for ages.

I ask my dp and he says he was downstairs.



And the reason i was going to post,i had a dream last night about dps sister.She had another baby, a boy and i even seen his face.He was a normal baby

Could be related to some anxiety you have recently?

sbsquarepants

Autosport wrote: »

What’s a dp?

Really depends on what corner of the internet one might be perusing at the time:D