I’m confident that many of you who have dabbled into the paranormal have had an experience or two that either still shocks you . . . or tickles you . . .and perhaps a little bit of both . . .
This Real Ghost Story happened quite a few years ago. I found it amusing and thought you may enjoy it as well.
Hey!! It’s not every day you encounter a ghost who gets offended and reacts in a non-ladylike manner . . .
I was in a restaurant with a friend, who is quite psychic.
I noticed a woman who kept rubbing her right foot on the carpeting . . . actually she did have her shoe on . . . and it seemed as though she was trying to get something off of it — perhaps she stepped in something . . .
This seemed odd. Not just the behavior, but that she was there one moment and gone the next.
I decided to concentrate on my meal and be polite to my dinner companion — Michael. Then, once again I saw that woman was back rubbing her right foot on the carpeting. I mentioned it to Michael.
He was so cool that he immediately turned around. Oh good grief!! I couldn’t believe it!!
And he did see her!!!
Now, if you want to know something, just ask . . . but not in the middle of dinner — oh good grief
Michael asked the waitress if she knew anything about the history of the land before the restaurant was built. She was new to the area and asked the manager to come to our table.
Well, we did find out that the whole area was once a pasture . . . a cow pasture . . . Need I continue?
And the ghostly apparition had evidently stepped in it . . . and was now cleaning her shoe.
It struck me as funny!
I burst out laughing!!
Now, if I had been embarrassed by Michael’s behavior . . . mine took the prize! But more than that, the ghostly woman, in her fine attire of two centuries ago came up to me . . . I could feel the chill of her icy stare . . . and without warning — all right, that isn’t true . . . I knew the woman was upset. She slapped me!! That’s right!! Slapped me right across the face . . . an open handed “bitch slap”.
Yes, I was shocked! But, more importantly you’re probably wondering if I felt the slap . . .
Yeah!!
It felt as though I was hit in the face with a bag of ice.
Michael could see the imprint of the ghostly hand print as my face reddening . . . Yes, from the slap . . . and perhaps embarrassment, too.
It was absolutely amazing . . .
Michael was caught in one of those catch 22 situations, be consoling to me or be astonished that a ghost
“bitch slapped” me.
“Go ahead, Michael, it’s all right,” I said calmly.
He burst out laughing . . . and so did I.
Then, I quickly looked around for the refined ghost . . . but she was gone. I truly did not want a repeat performance . . . unless it happened to Michael . . . nah . . . but . . . it’s just one of those things you have to experience . . . and I wouldn’t want to deprive him of the experience.
As we were leaving . . .
And I was waiting for Michael to open the door . . . I’m not all that women’s lib . . . I enjoy gentlemanly gestures.
I looked at Michael . . . he was frozen in place . . . his eyes wide open . . .
I helped him outside . . . and to the car . . . and saw the ghostly apparition off in the distance . . . watching . . . She had a broad smile on her face . . .
I looked at Michael . . . back at the apparition . . . back to Michael . . .
He said through clenched teeth, “She goosed me, right up the . . .” (We don’t have to go there . . . I think you got the drift of it.)
I heard a laugh . . . a laugh that echoed through the air long after the apparition disappeared.
I didn’t join in her merriment . . . Michael looked so pathetic . . . and I was still chilled from the slap.
I often wonder what the other patrons in the restaurant thought while all of this was going on — the apparition cleaning her shoe, my being slapped, Michael being goosed . . . Did they see anything paranormal . . . or just thought Michael and I were odd . . .
In retrospect . . . what did I learn from this experience?
For one, don’t tick off a ghost by laughing at her after stepping in a “cow patty”.
And, there are ghosts who will interact with you . . . maybe not in a kind manner . . . (just ask Michael) . . . but then again, if I had been more kind . . . Being insensitive to a ghost is rude . . . especially one who was all dressed up and obviously upset by her situation of trying to clean off her shoe
I didn’t know anything about her. She may have been “someone” in this town, so . . . how dare I laugh at her unfortunate situation . . .
Well, I hope you enjoyed this Real Ghost Story and share it with a friend or two.
But it seems too real — I heard it . . . and so did my precious Yorkie.
I bought some “ghost hunting” equipment.
Nothing fancy, just some tools to discover who and/or what is in my house.
It’s one thing to be aware of “ghosts” in my house and another thing to have it confirmed electronically with an EMF meter and also a Spirit Box.
The thing is . . .
I received one box from Amazon Monday and another one on Tuesday.
Tuesday’s box with the Spirit Box wasn’t supposed to be delivered until next week . . . but there it was on my front porch near the door.
I did not open Monday’s box . . . I decided to wait until the rest of my order arrived . . . Well, it did . . . But I still haven’t opened either box yet.
I’ve been hearing a lot of activity in the living room, where I left the unopened packages. The activity really picked up when I left the second package. All Tuesday night and into the wee hours of Wednesday morning, I’ve heard scuffling around.
I am wondering if they (the spirits in my house) are anxious for me to open the boxes so they can communicate with me . . . or they just don’t like having unopened boxes around . . .
I am eager to use my Spirit Box . . .
But since I wasn’t expecting it until next week, I’m not quite ready for it.
I guess you could say I’m not ready to have a confirmation of what is in my house with me.
Maybe the problem is that I’ve watched too many YouTube Video and Scary Movies lately. I thought this would be good preparation . . . but in reality I’m a bit nervous about it . . . and want to prepare myself for a wonderful experience . . . not something disappointing . . . or downright wet your pants or run out of the house screaming scary!!
It would be awful not to get anything . . .
I was planning on setting up my video camera and recording my first session with the Spirit Box.
I am aware I may need to play it back several times before getting a clear EVP.
Or I may just use my audio recorder . . . I was also planning on having a series of short sessions . . . Especially since I’m learning to use the equipment.
Of course I’ll be burning some sage and say a prayer for protection.
It seems as though I’m making a major production out of it . . . but I don’t want to miss out on any messages — thus my anxiety and not opening the boxes.
Well . . . that’s my current Real Ghost Story . . . Oh!! By the way . . . I set one of my boxes next to the love seat and the second on the love seat. When I walked into the living room both boxes were gone . . . They were moved to the dining room table . . . still unopened . . .
I guess all that scuffling around was moving the boxes . . . I do wonder why they didn’t open them . . . That may be one of the questions I’ll be asking them when I’m ready to hold my first session.
Yes, a haunted cabin deep in the woods of Tennessee.
It’s always exciting to see in real time and receiving honest reactions when strange paranormal activity happens right in front of you.
Most of the time, many of us don’t have the peace of mind to grab a camera . . . but with trained professionals such as Patty and her G Team and friends, although relaxing after a long day of investigating did decide to turn on their cameras and get out their EVP box.
The video is quite long, but it is worthwhile to watch the whole video and stay tuned for the second part.
I truly believe this is a real ghost story — that chair didn’t rock as I had expected it to. I thought it would rock a bit harder which tells me it was an honest and true ghost sitting there and gently rocking it — as one normally would while sitting quietly on the porch.
There was also an honest to goodness ghost at one part of the video . . . but I also think I saw it sooner in the video . . . but it could have been the light. Let me know what you think.
Wasn’t that amazing?
Something was definitely on that porch with them!!! I got goosebumps a few times while watching the video and listening to the EVPs.
I remember watching either something on television or on-line at least 15 to 20 years ago about being careful when viewing programs involving paranormal activities.
At the time I wasn’t too concerned about it and thought the “warning” was a hoax or hype to get more views.
But the more I thought about it . . . and the things I’ve experienced, I decided to always have sage burning and also say a prayer of protection . . . and pretty much go all over my house with the sage smoke and repeating a prayer.
One experience I had while watching a YouTube Video that creeped me out was the shower curtain falling in one of my bathrooms and writing inside one of my cupboards in the kitchen which repeated something that was said in the video.
I was so creeped out that I emptied the cupboard and painted over it. The writing did bleed through, so I repainted it. And, yes again it bled through so I spackled over the writing, let it dry and repainted.
I can’t explain why the shower curtain fell nor the writing in the cupboard. I just know it happened and I do get a creepy feeling when I go into that bathroom and open cupboards in my kitchen.
I have called in “professionals” and have been told my house is very active. I’ve encouraged several “ghosts” to leave . . . which they have done, but for some reason I still have activity in my house.
I am definitely not a skeptic. Strange, uncanny, paranormal, if you will, things do occur more often than not. I do look for a logical explanation . . . and sometimes I can’t find one. So, I do have an open mind and subscribe to many YouTube Channels where I may see paranormal investigators experiencing something similar to my personal experiences for an explanation.
Thanks for stopping by, leave a comment and subscribe to The G Team Paranormal Investigators.
Yeah . . . That box, sold at auction on eBay and was said to be haunted.
Wasn’t there a book and a film about that creepy old thing?
It’s a wine cabinet — a dybbuk box and also spelled “dibbux”. It’s said to be haunted by a dybbuk.
That makes sense for a dybbuk to live in a dybbuk box.
So . . . what’s the big deal?
This real ghost story begins with Kevin Mannis. In 2004, Mannis put The Dybbuk Box up for auction on eBay.
He’s a writer and at the time of the eBay auction owned a small antiques and furniture refinishing business in Portland, Oregon. In 2001, Mannis bought the Dybbuk Box at an estate sale. The box belonged to a Holocaust survivor of Polish decent by the name of Havela. She escaped to Spain prior to immigrating to the United States . . . bringing the box with her.
According to Mannis, Havela purposely sealed a dybbuk inside the box. Evidently she and her friends were performing a séance when a dybbuk contacted her.
Jewish folklore claims a dybbuk is a restless, malicious spirit believed to be able to haunt and even possess the living.
Now that we have some background on the dybbuk and his box . . . we return to Mannis. This is what he found when he opened the box:
2 pennies dated in the 1920’s
a lock of blonde hair bound with a cord
a lock of dark brown hair bound with a cord
a small statue engraved with the Hebrew word “Shalom”
one dried rose bud
a single candle holder with four octopus-shaped legs
a small golden wine goblet.
These items, according to Jewish folklore, are for exorcising demons.
That’s all fine and good . . . yet it appears the Dybbuk wasn’t exorcised. He was still in the box and when Mannis opened it . . .
He had horrible nightmares involving an old hag.
Even guests in Mannis’s home experienced these nightmares, too.
So, what did he do?
He gave the box to his mother. Oh good grief!!! And, the same day he gave her that stinky old Dybbuk Box she suffered a stroke. I said “stinky old Dybbuk Box” because it did have an aroma about it of a cross between cat urine and jasmine flowers.
The current owner of this Dybbuk Box is Jason Haxton, Director of the Museum of Osteopathic Medicine in Kirksville, Missouri.
Haxton had the winning bid at the eBay auction, thus buying the Dybbuk Box from Mannis.
Jason Haxton wrote The Dibbuk Box and published it in November of 2011.
He developed some strange health problems including hives, coughing up blood and “head-to-toe welts”.
While he had the box in his office, light bulbs burst.
Haxton removed the box from the museum and locked it in the back of his truck. He parked it at his house and that night experienced the same nightmares of a hag-like woman as other previous owners.
He contacted Rabbis to seal the dybbuk back in the box after he and his son noticed a black mass shaped like a flame in the room with them.
Currently, Haxton has the freshly resealed Dybbuk Box hidden in an undisclosed location.
Reminds me of a Genie in a Bottle or Aladdin’s Lamp.
Just in case you come across a dybbuk box, this one has the Shema carved into the side of it and the box measures 12.5″ x 7.5″ x 16.25″
Although this tale creeps me out, I can say that it is an attractive box . . . one I could see myself buying in an estate sale . . . but in light of all this . . . I would have to take a pass. I don’t like inviting danger into my life unnecessarily.
Oh yes, one more point . . . This was quite popular up until 2014 . . . so why am I writing about it?
I know this particular Dybbuk Box is now sealed in an undisclosed location . . . but do you honestly believe that there is only one Dybbuk . . . or is it merely an urban legend . . . Maybe those owners got caught up in the hysteria of the legend . . .
Or . . . there are Dybbuk among us . . . hidden in some old antique cabinet . . . an armoire perhaps . . . or a lovely vase . . . just waiting . . . for . . . you . . . to discover it . . . and . . . set it free . . .
A great image of ectoplasmic goo that is transforming right before our very eyes into a human form.
I was over on Twitter the other day and a “person to follow” suggestion was a woman author with a menopausal character who sees ghosts. I find it an interesting concept, but didn’t catch her name nor the title of her book. I’m wondering if she’s a “ghost whisperer” or goes out ghost hunting . . . I can only image this woman in a retirement community in Florida with all these ghosts hanging around waiting for a turn to talk with this menopausal woman.
Or . . . perhaps it will be similar to Murder She Wrote where there were all these murders taking place in this little town . . . until Jessica had to move along and travel . . . It just got too suspicious to have murders taking place around one individual . . . I suppose we do attract our interests . . .
Well . . . that was an interesting detour . . . I hope you’ve had time to study the image above.
The center left image looks a bit like Jack Skellington from the Nightmare Before Christmas. It may be his stance and those long legs. It looks like he’s wearing a suit or tux. Does the head look like a skeleton’s head to you?
Then there’s the image on the left. I think it’s too big for Sally (keeping with the film theme). And what is approaching “Jack” from his left? It looks like a man wearing a hat. Are they shaking hands? The image on the left seems to be carrying a baby. Do you see them?
Is that a portal they’re standing in on the grass? Does that look like a circle to you?
Gazing at images and gazing through hours of video recordings is much like cloud watching or trying to see through the fog.
Why do it?
Just on the off chance that you capture something supernatural to show your family and friends and anyone else who cares to see. And, for no other reason than it amuses you. As it does me.
I remember as a child going outside and watching the fog roll in. Years later there was a movie called The Fog. Had I known that then . . . and what was in the fog . . .
Have you noticed when you’re quietly communing with nature, thinking of nothing in particular, just feeling at peace and so very calm is when you see something . . . something out of the corner of your eye?
My grandmother had this huge front porch where we would sit after dinner. The only problem was other neighbors did the same and there were people walking by who would stop to chat. Quiet contemplation would have to wait until everyone settled back into their homes or were content to be quiet on their porches.
I tried to be quiet so I wouldn’t be sent off to bed, but that would have been all right. I had the front upstairs bedroom with a lovely window seat where I could sit and watch out the window. There was the apparition of a man riding in a wagon like in Little House on the Prairie. I enjoyed hearing the clip-clop of the horse’s hoofs and the creaking of the wagon as it rolled down the street.
It’s times like that when I set up my camera on a tripod, turn it on and wait.
I don’t believe I have to go to a known “haunted” place to see what there is to see in the spirit world. I can do it from the comfort of my own patio. If I don’t see anything, maybe, just maybe the camera will pick something up.
And there is always activity going on in the front of my house as well . . . but don’t tell my neighbors . . . They pretty much ignore me . . . But . . . I know what I know . . .
It’s more difficult for me to go for a walk with camera in hand, but it’s not out of the question. Sometimes we have to go to the “ghosts.”
Ghost Hunting, in whatever form you choose is an enjoyable pastime. At the very least it would be nice to have an infrared camera for your night time picture taking and video recording. I also like one that I can use in the daytime. Not two cameras, but one that does both. Ghosts, in my experience, don’t only come out at night.
Here are a few examples:
I know, I’ve pretty much broken from my tradition of telling ghost stories and got all these random thoughts in the mix . . . but when one is looking for “ghosts” or unusual paranormal activity, one does need to clear one’s mind . . . or ramble on . . .
Kind of the spooky thing is . . . a ghost will pop up and make a comment about something I was thinking about . . . or I’ll get a thought in my head about something else — although related . . .
Which reminds me of a place in Alabama a friend of mine told me about . . .
I believe it was once a restaurant with a bar . . . The woman who owned it loved the paranormal and had more money than common sense . . . She collected items from known haunted places as well as from places where crimes took place.
I’m not talking about trinkets . . . I’m talking about the actual bar from a haunted tavern . . . An old teller’s station in a bank where a robbery took place back yonks ago . . . and, of course, people were killed . . .
This woman welcomed all kinds of odd things into her restaurant . . . along with any paranormal “ghosts, gouls or gobblins” that wanted to come along . . . and stay for awhile.
And, yes . . . there were ghost stories from the workers who had the opportunity to work there. One of them I really like . . .
Every night at around 10 PM, a man would walk in and sit at the bar . . . he would order whiskey and then disappear . . . The young man tending bar would swear the man was real . . . dressed a bit old fashioned, but real . . . He never paid for the drink . . . and he never drank it . . .
Of course, in this same restaurant, there was a basement with items the owner bought, but didn’t have a place to put them . . . well, except in the basement . . . There were always sounds coming from there . . . usually whispering and sometimes loud bangs . . . and many customers and work staff alike had seen ghostly apparitions running through the dining hall . . .
There was also a couple who would dance . . . a waltz . . . they were dressed to the nines, appropriate for their era . . . and dance the night away . . .
It was a lively place. Everyone was sad when the place closed its doors. A friend of mine and I would muse about buying it and reopening it . . . I think it had three stories . . . Initially, I thought I’d move there and live at the very tippy top of the building . . . but then I thought better of it . . . plus the woman had no interest in selling . . .
I thought, too, it would make a great museum and use all the space to display the whole collection of spooky stuff. I would enjoy archiving it and making a little booklet telling the tales from each artifact as well as the stories from those who saw ghosts, ghostly apparitions, heard sounds . . . or just got a creepy feeling.
Well, nothing came of this . . . but I still think about that place from time to time.
On Canada’s East Coast, there’s an old haunted school house.
I’m intrigued by this real ghost story as well as the school. It’s a 3 story building with a rooftop observatory and fire escape slides on both sides of the building. All grades are taught at this school — kindergarten through the 12th grade.
As you can imagine, those slides were an attractive nuisance for school personnel. Of course the kids were informed they were for emergency use only . . . but kids being kids . . . and slides being slides . . . It was only natural that the kids would sneak up to the roof and slide down the slide from time to time. No harm was done as long as no one got hurt, but one day the bolt holding the slide dislodged and the slide and passenger fell the three stories. Needless to say the child was killed on impact.
The school is still in use today . . . and it is haunted.
People claim when driving by the old school house at night they see lights or a figure moving from floor to floor with a light of some sort. Some say a candle, because it makes it spookier, but a lantern or a flashlight would cast hideous shadows about, too.
One of the more spiritually active rooms was the library. During the daytime books would fall off the shelves or one would find a pile of books on the floor. These spirits seemed quite mischievous by leading the librarian on a merry chase of dropping books — like leaving bread crumbs to a destination.
The destination was the basement that housed the old boiler.
I met Elsie quite a number of years ago. She was the librarian at that school until her retirement a couple of decades ago. She recalls on one particular day when she was retrieving books that led to the basement, she felt lightheaded and nauseous. She thought it was from bending over every few paces and picking up books. She did have a book cart with her so she didn’t have to carry all those books back into the library.
She paused in front of the door leading into the basement. She felt a cool to icy breeze coming from under the basement door.
Elsie knew she was brought down there for a reason. It wasn’t just to retrieve the books and return them to the library. There was something she needed to see. If she could help children, even children from decades earlier, Elsie was going to stifle her fear and boldly move forward.
She reached for her master key to the basement. All the locks were keyed the same except for the school administration office. She heard voices of children through the door. This made Elsie more determined to get inside and get to the bottom of this. The door opened before Elsie put her key in the door.
A dark figure stood blocking her entry.
As the door opened a bit more, she saw the figure of a man hanging from the rafters.
It was a known fact that a janitor back in the 1930’s hung himself in the basement after the boiler exploded and caused a fire in the school. Some children were killed from the blast and many more injured. He couldn’t bare working there and committed suicide when the school was empty and the repair crew was gone for the night.
Elsie was more concerned about the children she heard in the basement than the dark figure and the hanging man. She did have a book in hand, and being the librarian she was, started reading to the invisible children. She told them she would return the next day and they were welcome in the library.
Before her appointed hour to go into the basement, Elsie heard children giggling and the running of little feet.
She looked around to see if they had chosen a book for her to read. Elsie didn’t see anything out of place and picked a book she read hundreds of times to classroom children over the years.
She was getting to the good part when she heard someone shout, “Stop! Get out!”
Elsie felt little hands tugging her to her feet. She ran out of the basement and out the front door of the school, not stopping to close or lock the doors.
Once safely outside, she stood feeling a bit foolish, but that emotion changed immediately when she heard popping sounds, a crash and the alarm system going off.
She heard the siren of the fire trucks coming her way. The crew got out and immediately went to work inside the school. Elsie was rooted to the spot. Then she thought of those precious children. Were they out? Were they safe?
On the third floor, the ceiling caved in from water damage that hadn’t been repaired. The popping sound was light bulbs popping and soon the ceiling crashed to the floor, and the alarm went off when the electrical matrix caught fire.
Fortunately, students had gone for the day, but there was a janitorial crew in the building and some teachers. Everyone got out safely through the fire escape and the slides.
As teachers and janitors joined Elsie in front of the school, she heard stories of a young boy running through the school leading everyone to the fire escape. Elsie believes along with the others that the children haunting the school saved their lives. This young boy (the one who lost his life on the fire escape slide so many years ago) must have been the one Elsie heard shout at her to stop reading and get out.
It is quite comforting to know that the children who lost their lives in that old school house are still around to help future generations of children, teachers and staff. I only hope the librarian who replaced Elsie reads to these ghost children and allows them in the library to play with the books — pushing them off the shelves, stacking them on the floor . . . and leading a path down to the basement.
