I’ve Seen Ghosts

The following is an excerpt from Episode 48 – Award Show Round-Up and & Seeing Ghosts? Listen to the whole episode on Apple Podcasts or Spotify.

I need to know I need to get this off my chest – I have seen a ghost. I may have seen multiple ghosts, in fact.

The first time, I was at my father’s home in Makanda, a small town in Southern Illinois. He had moved into the house that my great-Aunt Myrna had lived in prior to her passing. When I would go to stay at my dad’s, I would have my own bedroom there. One night, I woke up to my bed being shook and I didn’t know if it was a thunderstorm or what, but my bed just felt like it was being shook. I looked up in confusion and I remember seeing a flash of, like, a hand at the foot of my bed. Just wrinkled hands. It seemed to be an older woman standing at the end of my bed shaking it. It was kind of like if you were to mess with your friend and shake the bed. That’s what this old woman was doing. I did meet my Aunt Myrna before she passed, but I can’t really place if the lady at the end of my bed was her. During the encounter, part of me didn’t feel like it was scary. I just never really mentioned it to anybody until later because I didn’t know what to make of it.


Downtown Lebanon, Illinois

My second encounter was during my senior year of college. I was dating a guy that actually lived in the town that I was going like I was in school in, which is a very, very old town. It wouldn’t surprise me if there is bunch of weird shit lingering around, and considering that his house was a block or two from the cemetery… During the Summer after I graduated, I would go back to visit him and stay at his home. When I visited, instead of staying in his room, we would stay in the basement spare bedroom in the basement.

I do not easily sleep in basements. Basements creep me out, so I would wake up a lot. I usually slept the farthest away from the door with my back to the door as a safety mechanism. I remember three separate instances – three separate nights from three separate weekends, months apart almost of staying in this basement room – where I would roll over in the middle of the night to look over and standing over the bed would be this old woman.

To describe this old woman… part of me thinks that she was wearing a veil? Part of me thinks that maybe she was just wearing something like a hat or something covering over her face? She was wearing older clothing, maybe Victorian style – at least a long sleeve, higher neck dress.

She used to freak me out, because unlike my first encounter where I felt okay, this did not feel okay. This did not feel okay at all. I would be paralyzed in fear if I saw this lady looking over him or looking over us. A lot of the times she would be next to like almost of the head of the bed on his side, or she would be at the corner of the bed, at the bottom corner on his side. But she was always in the doorway, on that side of the wall, on that side of the room.

Still to this day, I think I have nightmares about being in my bed with Jon and rolling over to like flashback to that and seeing somebody on the side of the bed and it was multiple times the same exact woman


My third instance happened just a couple of weeks ago while we were helping Jon’s cousins move into their new house. I was going to the bathroom in the guest bathroom, and I had to look around the for toilet toilet paper because it wasn’t they didn’t have, like, a little holder. So I’m looking around, my head swiveling around from right to left, and out of the corner of my right eye I see a little boy in the corner next to the bathtub.

Victorian Nightgowns,
very similar to what
I saw the boy wearing.

I take a second look in front of me and nobody’s there, obviously, because, you know, I’m staring closer. What is sitting in front of me, though, is a couple paint cans but no boy. I think I saw a little Victorian boy because he was wearing a white long sleeve. But it didn’t freak me out at first because Jon’s cousins have a toddler like they have boy toddler, so I figured he was in the bathroom with me. I came out of the bathroom and looked around for their son. And I see him and confirm that was definitely not him in the bathroom.

When I mentioned the encounter with everyone, they too laughed it off. Now, I keep joking around with them, telling them “If your son ever starts talking about an imaginary friend that wears a white long sleeve, don’t be surprised because I’m pretty sure you shit is haunted!”

I didn’t get bad vibes. I just feel like kids aren’t scary. Like, if you were haunted by kid, that cannot be that scary. If I were to choose who to be haunted by, I would choose little kids. Sure, they would be a little shit starters and they would probably like play pranks on me and like move my stuff around or something, but I just don’t feel like that kids can’t be EVIL.

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