I’ve been reading this thread on reddit today, and I am fascinated by the stories. There are lots of ghost and supernatural stories, and though they could be totally made up, it’s still fun to think about how we come to this reality as souls/entities and choose our bodies.
Aidan likes to stare off into space a lot of times, and when I mentioned this, my mother-in-law said that many young kids are supposedly able to “see” more things than adults see. It is like their separation from the veil is less strong, and they are not as strongly tied to the “physical” world as grown-ups are.
These are some of the comments that caught my eye:
When I was a kid “Mr. Rand” used to come into my room 4 or 5 times a week. He’d talk to me and tell me about ‘stuff’ and how he was killed in WW2. See Ol’ mate Rand was a figment of my 4 year old imagination. Any way one day when I was 9 or so Mr. Rand stopped showing up.
Fast forward to about 3 years ago and my son, who is about 5 at the time, walks out of his room one night at about 11:30and says there’s a man in his room. I flip out And run in his room to find nobody to which he then says “Mr. Rand said you can’t see him anymore, but he’s ok!”. The kids got his own imaginary mate called Mr. Rand, but they only chat once or twice a year.
[Later] Mr. Rand died on 5th Feb 1942 – we both agree. Cats are the devils advocate(ammo’cap – is how my son said it), Mr. Rand said the same to me too, me and the young Lad both like cats.
Mr. Rand woke me up one night I swear to you I saw him clear as if he was real. Standing beside my bed. I reached out to touch him and got naught but the cold night air in my bedroom. He hung out almost every night for ages, then one night nothing. I remember we spoke about death one night, that was a strange conversation.
My daughter keeps telling me stories about when she was big and I was little. She talks about taking care of me when I was little.
Probably just a kid being a kid.
My older sister was born the year my Dad’s mom died. According to my dad, as soon as my sister was old enough to say the words, she said “I am your mother.”
When I was about 3 or 4 I would tell my dad stories about how I was good friends with his grandfather. I provided names and traits that had never been said around me before. I also claimed to have ghost brothers who were buried in a cemetery we often drove past.
When I was young, like maybe two years old, my grandma was in the hospital, dying of cancer. Obviously i had no idea what was going on, but apparently one day when my mother and aunt were watching me, I suddenly looked at them and said “Only one Grandma”
they kept trying to convince me otherwise, that no, i had two grandmas, but I kept repeating that line over and over
Then the phone rang. It was my uncle calling to tell my mother that my grandma had passed a few minutes ago
My brother had a similar experience as a child. We had gone to visit my grandparents earlier in the day and everything was fine. When it was time to go to bed my brother, he was about 5 at the time, started crying and saying he wanted to “talk to Papa because he’s sick”. My mom and dad kept assuring him that he was fine as we were just over there earlier in the day. My brother wouldn’t stop screaming so my mom called my grandparents. My grandma was awake and said my grandpa was asleep but she decided to take the phone into his room so he could talk to my grandpa. When she went in to the room my grandpa was unresponsive and had just had a heart attack. Fortunately for him my psycho brother knew somehow and he was able to survive. That was 23 years ago and my grandpa just passed 2 years ago.
Not any relation to me, but I used to go to this family run comic book shop. The owner who I was close friends with had a few kids the oldest of which was about 5 or 6 at the time. Some of my friends and I had just moved the shop to a new location in the historical part of the city. We were putting some stuff in the finished basement. There was a door that lead to an unfinished tunnel that went on for a very long time. It was very old and dark and creepy with a single light bulb. My friend’s son says, “That’s where the ghosts live” and his father said “There’s no ghosts in there!” The kid just looks at his father, stone cold serious and replies, “They’re in there…you just can’t see ‘em…” My friend and I looked at each other and chuckled nervously.
When I was about 5ish my dads cousin shot his 7 year old son and then shot himself (his wife filed for divorce and wanted custody of their son and he went crazy). Well after this happened my dad and his brothers had to clean out their cousins house. Since I was the youngest one at the time they all decided, “Oh! Jess should get this dead child’s toys! That’s great!”
So I ended up with one of those Little Tikes outdoor play castle. You know the one that was like a little plastic castle tower and you could sit inside? Sucha cool fort.
Anyway, The one day I was sitting inside the tower part and my mom was on the deck and she heard me talking to myself. So she comes over and asks who I’m talking to this time (I had a lot of imaginary friends). I told her I was talking to the little boy whose castle it was and told him not to cry because my mommy could be his mommy. My mom promptly had my dad throw the castle out.
TL;DR – I told my mom that a dead little boy would be her child now too.
Edit – Heres another fun part of the story! When my dad was packing the boys stuffed animals and stuff into his truck to bring them for donation, he heard a little boys voice say, “What are you doing with my toys?” Now my dad is the manliest man I’ve ever met and he said that he got freaked out by the voice because it was so clear. You’d think this would be a good sign to not give me any of his toys.
My mother took my son to an antique car show; I think he was maybe 3 or 4 at the time. He looked at a Model T Ford and said “My brother had one of those!”. He doesn’t have a brother.
When I was little (so young I don’t remember it, but I had just started talking), my parents were watching something on tv or something (like I said, I don’t remember, this is just what I’ve been told) and I was playing on my own not really paying attention. My dad said something like “Hey, look at that old record player!”, to which I responded “That’s not a record player. That’s a gramophone.” My mom asked me how I knew that, and I casually replied “I used to have one” and went back to playing with my alphabet blocks or whatever.
Between the ages of two and six my son would tell me the same story of how he picked me to be his mother. He said something about being with a man in a suit and picking a mother that would help him accomplish his souls mission (I’m atheist, so we didn’t discuss spirituality at that point, nor was he raised in any sort of religious environment). The way he described it was that it was similar to grocery shopping, that he was in a bright room with people who were lined up like dolls, and that he picked me. The man in the suit asked him if he was sure, he replied that he was, and then he was born.
My son also had an early fascination with WWII era planes. He could identify them, their parts, what region they were used in and the like. I still have no idea where he got that information. I’m a science gal, his dad is a math guy.
We have always called him “Grandpa” because of his peaceful and gingerly demeanor. This kid seriously has an old soul.