#Paranormal
Tumblr posts tagged #Paranormal from across Tumblr — no login required.
“Like She Wanted Me to Know All About It”: The Greenbrier Ghost, and True Crime’s Uneasy Relationship with the Supernatural When Mary Jane Heaster took the stand to testify against the man she believed to be her daughter’s killer, the testimony she shared was not from any earthly source.
A description of the owner of the manor house in Balleywalegh… “He was tall and slender and appeared to be of young middle-years, surely no more than thirty-five, in the peak of manhood. Handsome to a fault. One might compare him to a Greek statue in his comeliness, except for that foreign slant of high, broad cheekbones to his features betraying a Baltic origin. He was very pale with long black hair he wore tied back in an old-fashioned club, and eyes so dark they appeared almost black, brilliant and gleaming and full of intelligence. Indeed, those eyes seemed to entrance any who looked into them, even I, and after our introduction, later I could recall nothing of what he wore—other than it was of a more fashionable cut than my own sensible suit—or of what was said, except that there was an odd, sinister after-tone floating within my mind, like an echo of a warning.” FOREVER, MY VAMPIRE, available in Audible, Kindle, and paperback. https://www.amazon.com/Forever-My-Vampire-Tony-Paul-Vissage-ebook/dp/B08D81LQSJ/ref
I once met with my grandmother in a dream, and what was happening in the dream was playing out simultaneously in real life. Several people witnessed it from various perspectives. At the time I was writing my own work schedule and frequently went in around noon. This allowed me to stay up late, as in those days, I was a night owl. On this particular night I had gone to bed around probably 2am. My “Grandma Pence” was wholly in the throes of Alzheimer’s at this point and staying at an assisted living facility in Lafayette. I was still living in Covington, as this was 2013. It is roughly an hour drive between Covington and Lafayette. I fell asleep that night and at some point found myself walking the halls of my grandma’s assisted living facility with her. We were arm in arm, or what some people might call linking arms or escorting. I was explaining to her why she had to be there using some form of nontraditional communication. It wasn’t English, and I’m not so sure it wasn’t even nonverbal, but somehow I was going to great lengths to help her understand why she was there. As most people would know, Alzheimer’s patients that require assisted living generally become confused and angry over their situation. They don’t know why they are there and why they can’t go home. As a result, the people that have to make the difficult decision to place them in an enhanced care facility experience extreme shame and guilt. At the time, I feared this was the case for my mother and aunt, both of whom the majority of the decision making and subsequent activity had fallen on. In the dream, I was walking the halls with my grandmother, arm in arm, explaining to her in some metaphysical or spiritual fashion why she had to be in an assisted living facility. This went on for an undisclosed amount of time until at some point we were standing outside of the building. I was about to get in the back passenger side seat of a car, and began telling my grandmother I had to leave. I believe I was explaining to her that I had to go see my children or something that had to do with them. She wasn’t very happy about it, but she seemed to understand that I was at least being forthright. My grandmother had a very specific gesture that she made when she wanted to acknowledge that she heard you, but wasn’t necessarily in agreement or compliance. She would cross her arms and lift her head, nodding so slightly that her chin never dipped below the top of her shoulders. She was doing this as I got into the back seat of the car, and then it drove off. Shortly thereafter, the car pulled up to a curb that for whatever reason was a great distance behind where I had just left my grandmother. I got out and walked around the back of the car where I was met by my mother. She immediately told me that my grandma and aunt Joan had had a rough night. I disputed her statement and informed her that I had just left my grandma, and that she looked better than I’d seen her look in a long time. I specifically cited her white hair, which was as vibrant and voluminous as it had appeared in years. Undeterred, my mother repeated herself. I woke up from the dream emotionally affected, but short on time to get ready for work. It was vivid, but vivid and realistic dreams weren’t uncommon for me. I shook it off and began to prepare for my day. Hours later I was standing in a warehouse at work when I received a text from my mom. My mom hadn’t had a cell phone for very long at that point, and it was rare for her to text me. In addition, I had never received a picture from her. As far as I knew, she didn’t even know how to take or send one on her primitive flip phone. Opening the message, I felt myself go pale. It read something to the effect of, “Rough night for mom. Joan had to go up in the middle of the night.” Accompanying the text was a picture of my grandmother holding a stuffed dog under her arm in the middle of the hallway in her assisted living facility. It would be hard to describe how I felt at that moment, if I could even place myself back there this many years later. But it was terrifying. Among the first things that struck me was the fact that my aunt Joan had not been in my dream, but in my dream my mother said that both her and my grandma had had a rough night. In reality they had. In the moments, days and months afterward, as we compared notes, it seemed far more likely than not something had transpired. Something akin to what famed psychiatrist Carl Jung would have called “synchronicity.” Two events, related by something unknown. At some point, my grandmother had left her room and begun walking the hallways of the assisted living facility, talking to the stuffed dog under arm. It was causing a disturbance and irritating some of the other residents. The staff wasn’t having any luck reigning my grandmother in, so my aunt Joan was called in to assist them. It was my aunt who was summoned and not my mom because my mother still lived in Frankfort at the time and my aunt lived in Lafayette. Both my mother and aunt immediately became preoccupied with the incident. I was shaken and unsettled. I wondered what had happened and how, but wouldn’t allow myself to entertain it much. I kept my thoughts and commentary on it minimal and tried to repel any questions or dialogue my mother or aunt tried to have with me regarding it. Then, a few months later, Christmas came and my mother and aunt came to my house to celebrate. At some point, my aunt informed me that she had taken video of my grandmother on her phone the night she was called to the assisted living facility and wanted me to watch it. I was caught off guard and uninterested, but she persisted. Finally I agreed to watch the video, and I remember exactly where I was standing when I did. As the video started, my aunt was following my grandma from behind as she shuffled down the hallway of the assisted living facility, holding the stuffed dog under her arm and muttering incoherently. The first thing I noticed, and it was immediate, was that the way she was carrying the dog placed her arm in the exact position that she was holding it in my dream as I escorted her down the halls. In the video, you can hear my aunt occasionally ask my grandma who she’s talking to. I had previously been told by my mother that she was talking to the stuffed dog, but she never once looked or addressed it directly. She also never acknowledges my aunt or her repeated questioning. This goes on for a while before eventually my grandma pauses at a work station or some other variation along the hall. My aunt pauses with her, still occasionally asking her who she’s talking to. My grandmother then leaves the dog behind and shuffles a little further down the hallway where an empty chair sits along the wall. She stops suddenly, faces the chair, and then assumes the rigid posture she had in my dream when I was getting into the back seat of the car. Crossing her arms, she gazes at the chair and begins doing her slight nod. Acknowledging but not approving. I began sobbing. Everything lined up perfectly. Even the time. While I was at home sleeping, my aunt was at the assisted living facility videoing my grandmother acting out exactly what she was doing in my dream. Every detail. In the weeks that followed, I pondered everything heavily. Again, what had happened and how? Was I with her or was she with me? Was one of our consciousnesses experiencing everything through the lens of the other, or was I with her physical self in my spirit self? Is consciousness transferable while the body is still alive? Did my consciousness travel? What is consciousness? Is there a physics to it? And perhaps most importantly, why? Was it facilitated by a higher power? Was it willed by someone’s subconscious? I understood little, and resisted forming opinions on limited context, but I eventually settled on one belief. It transpired because I was concerned over my mother and aunt’s states of mind regarding the decision to put my grandmother in the assisted living facility. She was well beyond living with anyone other than trained individuals that could provide around the clock care, but as I stated earlier, anyone in that position still feels guilt. Especially when the afflicted individual consistently expresses anger or confusion over being there. The linchpin moment of the entire experience, to me, was being able to tell my mom and aunt that in the dream I was explaining to my grandma why she had to be there, and she was grasping it. Somewhere in her Alzheimer’s ridden mind, she knew why she was there. And she understood. Every other detail lined up. By reason, that detail had to have transpired as well. Why am I telling this story? I don’t know. I included a version of it in one of my fictionalized novels, but as far as I know, I’ve never relayed it on social media. Something’s been nagging at me to do it for a while now. Maybe someone needs to read it. The implications are pretty profound. No matter what we think we know or believe, there will always be more. A lot of people have had paranormal or supernatural experiences that they keep to themselves because they don’t want to look or sound crazy. They also don’t want to be told they experienced one thing when they know it was another. Us humans have a tendency to want to categorize “things,” and even worse, frame them for others to make ourselves feel comfortable. You aren’t crazy and probably aren’t even wrong. I hope this story reaches whoever it was meant for.
Fear the Hat Man: The Silent Shadow Invasion… Who is He? And What Does He Want? | Documentary The Hat Man is always described the same way: tall, dark, and thoroughly terrifying. Said by some to be a species of shadow person, this paranormal entity is most often encountered at night, haunting the state between sleeping and waking, sometimes even causing sleep paralysis. Despite their being thousands of online testimonies describing encounters with the Hat Man, there is no clear consensus or explanation as to what this chilling shadow being is… and, more importantly, what he wants. Some people describe him as a demon, some a ghostly interdimensional being, others an alien. In this documentary, we explore not merely spooky Hat Man stories, but also look at historical examples that may indicate an ancient origin for this nightmarish shadow man.
Ever since I was a little girl I knew I was meant to be a ghost/cryptid hunter. Maybe even an exorcist. Sadly that won’t get me far in this economy huh. Plus I swore to my grandmother that I’d never touch a ouija board, so that checks out. I think mostly evil spirts and demons talk through that thing anyway, tricking vulnerable people into thinking its actually their loved one or whatever. Such assholes.
𝟚𝟘𝟘𝟜, 𝔸𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕝 ℍ𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕤, 𝕆𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕠𝕟 ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ 31ꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴜɢᴜꜱᴛ, ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙᴏʏ ᴅɪᴇꜱ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴀʀ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛ. ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ 1ꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, ᴀ ɢɪʀʟ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ. ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ 3ʀᴅ, ꜱʜᴇ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴꜱ. ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ ANGEL HILLS is a town where bad things do not happen. Population 15,000, middle class, tidy. Neat. Tragedy strikes the town when the eight year old William Stanford is hit by a seizing driver. Both dead on arrival. Sadie Stanford, 18 years of age, does not show up for the funeral. When she is found, almost three days after her last apperance, she is altered. Eccentric. Different. Since, people have gone missing in Angel Hills. They are always found, some so fast nobody has time to figure out they left. But the people who return… they’re not the same. ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ Angel Hills is a 16+ paranormal themed server centered around a small town in Oregon, where people mysteriously disappear, and come back altered by a strange force from the woods. Build a dedicated, creative community with original characters, player driven plots, and open room for as much weirdness as you can think of! ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙ Join the WELCOME TO ANGEL HILLS Discord Server!
It is the year 3304, the place New York City. Damien LeCroix, vampire, is about to come face-to-face with someone he never expected to meet. “You hid your tracks well, but I’ve a vast amount of money at my disposal, and my brother has enough influence to get me any information I wish.” She looked satisfied. “You didn’t stay hidden very long. Or your secret either.” “And what secret is that, chérie?” He felt cold slither down his spine. Knew what she was going to say even as those beautiful pink lips opened to speak the words. “That you’re a sans mort, of course. A vampire.” At least she whispered them. No one around paid the least attention. “Other than I, only Alain knows, and I’m certain you don’t want anyone else to be aware.” “What do you want?” Coldness engulfed him. She wasn’t bluffing. “I—” “Alysse?” Her brother’s call interrupted. Damién realized he had no idea what he’d been about to say, only that her words made the oddest sick feeling in his stomach. Fear. “It looks like Alain’s ready to go. We’re renting a house while we’re here. Out on Long Island. Why don’t you stop by tomorrow evening? For drinks?” Her mouth quirked a little as she said that. She fumbled in her small evening purse, bringing out a tiny hand unit. “We can talk more. Do you have your Hand Computer Unit with you?’ He answered by retrieving his own from a breast pocket, holding it up. She tapped hers against it. There was a sharp little beep. “Our address and how to get there. See you around eight?” She raised one hand in a fluttery wave, then hurried toward her brother who was waiting impatiently. He was young also, only a few years older, Damién noted, and as blond as she. When she was a few feet away, she looked back as if remembering something. “To answer your question, Damién…I want you to help me die.” THE NIGHTMAN’S ODYSSEY is available in Kindle and paperback. https://www.amazon.com/Nightmans-Odyssey-Tony-Paul-Vissage-ebook/dp/B0CPBDD5V3/ref “Any fan of classic vampire novels will love this book” – Vampire Romance Books
Who are the Shadow People? Flickering in and out of existence, sometimes only for a split second, sometimes longer, but always transient, they leave only questions in their wake. What are their intentions? Where do they come from? Why do they appear? Who or what are the Shadow People?
i think i’m starting to have poltergeist activity in my home after meeting someone who I haven’t seen in months. this person, a man, is a warlock, and has been engaging in bad/evil type of magick. he literally came to see me at my workplace on a whim and hugged me twice any since that day there has been banging around my home as well as items moving around a little bit. it almost sounds like i can hear things but so quiet i can’t tell if i heard something or not. and it usually sounds like gibberish. i need to figure out how to kick it out. does anybody have any ideas? also, more importantly, i need to know whether this was done on purpose or not. i feel suspicious about this… and i don’t like it… this man has been doing family curses towards some people /not me. and has been having a stream of really back luck because of it. i’m trying to safely distance myself from this person while being friendly as they really are a pretty bad/dangerous individual and they know where i work. any insight is appreciated.
About the #Paranormal tag
What is the #Paranormal tag on Tumblr?
#Paranormal is a Tumblr tag people add to their posts so others can find related content. This page collects public posts tagged #Paranormal from blogs across Tumblr so you can browse them in one place.
Can I browse #Paranormal posts without a Tumblr account?
Yes. Zoomblr shows posts tagged #Paranormal with no login or account required — just scroll the feed above. It's completely free.
How do I save an image from a #Paranormal post?
Open the blog of any post you like via its link, then use Zoomblr's post viewer to download the image in full resolution.
