Have you had any paranormal activity situations happen personally to you or someone you know?
08.06.2025 08:38
That being said, yes, I've had a few situations that I can't help but chock up to some sort of paranormal activity, or at least something otherwise unexplainable.
He had taken them all out of their boxes and splayed them all over the room...
But when I looked in the broken box, I was in shock once more.
I'm a skeptical skeptic at heart, that is, I'm a skeptic who's open to the idea of paranormal activity being a real phenomenon, but I don't immediately jump to that conclusion when something funky happens. I really hate when so-called "skeptics" will excuse away every part of a paranormal story with "facts and logic" but will sneakily dance around the parts that absolutely cannot be reasonably explained.
Never saw that thing again.
Now, I'm not saying any of the above is definitely paranormal activity nor evidence of. But I have tried, and failed, to find reasonable explanations for any of it.
Just, gone.
We look at the sign, and we're both accusing one another of doing it when we had our backs turned, but both of us were adamant that we hadn't. We didn't even know where this sign came from, we never saw it before. Usually his mom used the same decor options year after year.
And he poked massive holes in every single card.
I assumed, "Oh, it must've fell." Took a look around the bottom of the nightstand, nothing. Looked under the bed, nothing.
I have no idea how or when the cards "healed." They're still with me too. Cards that I recall being destroyed, holes through the characters eyes, rips and tears, the edges bent and scraped from being violently flung around and stomped on, just gone. They're in perfect condition except for the box, which I have since glued back together just so that it functions as a box once more.
On our first night there we were having trouble sleeping. I remember we ended up getting up and moving some of our stuff into the room as a result of the sleeplessness, and there was this Merry Christmas sign on our bedroom door that kept whacking against the wood every time we opened it, and it was driving us crazy. We finally took it down and put it in the room his grandma died in, then went about our business and continued moving stuff into the room.
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I had other items go missing in that apartment too, nothing too significant but things I figured I'd find when we moved. Well, we moved six months ago, and nothing that went missing ever turned up again.
Maybe, just maybe, there's a little magic in this world after all.
Some years ago I was living in an apartment and was just getting started with smoking marijuana. A friend of mine had given me her pipe, and every day a couple times a day I'd light up and take a nap or draw. I loved it, at first, and was quickly getting addicted to the stuff. I could've quit then as I didn't yet have a dependence, I simply didn't want to.
Now, my husband is an atheist, and he's far more of a skeptic than I admittedly am. He gave me a look and said, "I didn't put shit on the door."
Either that apartment was a black hole that ate random things, or there was a trickster spirit who loved to mess with us. Or, something about that apartment made you black out and throw your own stuff out the window at random intervals, never to be seen again.
I cried.
I took the sign off the door again, and put it next to the Merry Christmas sign in the other room. As I did so, just for the hell of it, I said, "Hi, Mary, could you please not do this again? Kinda creeping us out, thanks."
One day, many years later, I decided to take a look through my cards, found the busted box of Yellow Submarine cards at the bottom of my collection bin, and grabbed them to inspect the damage once more. I was finally working and had my own money and figured I'd try and buy another pack online to replace them.
I shook my head in disbelief and immediately went looking for it, thinking it must've bounced off the wall so fast I just thought I saw it phase through. I looked everywhere, in the pantry, in the trash can, around the trash can, near the door, under the cabinets, then expanded my search to other parts of the apartment in case it somehow slid.
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One day, when nobody was home, I took a puff, waited for the embers to go cold, then put the pipe down on my nightstand and took a nap. I woke up probably 30 minutes later to a still empty house, went to grab my pipe for a second go, and it was gone.
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Behind the nightstand, in the nightstand, behind the desk next to the nightstand, I kid you not when I say I tore the entire room apart looking for that thing, multiple times. It was gone.
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We, jokingly, said it must have been his grandma welcoming us home.
I ended up buying a new pipe a few days later after accepting the fact that I was just never going to find it, but over the next 3 years I never officially stopped looking for it. I tore that room apart so many times, rearranged everything, moved everything out of the room and back in just to see if there was a spot I missed. I never found it.
I saw it hit the wall, and suddenly it was gone.
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Well, if it was her, she in fact never did it again. Thankfully. Those door signs are a pain in the ass.
This was at the tail end of December, and his mom and grandma had both been big holiday decorators. The entire house would look like Santa's wonderland in Winter, the Easter bunny's wet dream in the springtime, and a thanksgiving fiesta in Fall.
One day I walked into my cousins room to get something, and I fell to my knees when I saw what he did with my card collection.
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When I was a teenager I had a collection of poker cards. I didn't play many card games aside from solitaire, I just really loved poker cards and all the different designs I had them in
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Six months ago when my husband and I had just moved out of our old apartment, we were staying with his mom as a halfway point before we moved out of state. Three years prior to this, his grandma had died in the room next to the one we were staying in.
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I had this one set that was my favorite, it was a deck of The Beatles Yellow Submarine poker cards with all this really trippy art on the individual cards. I remember purposely keeping them in their wrapper because my mom and I were between houses at the time and living with family and I didn't want to risk somehow losing any cards.
I contemplated maybe my uncle finding out what happened and buying me a new deck, but then why would he go through the trouble of tossing the new box and putting them back in the broken box? Why not just hand me the new cards instead?
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I went around the room and salvaged what I could, most of them ended up getting thrown away, but I kept all the Yellow Submarine cards and put them back in the broken box best I could, because I wanted to remind myself in the future to get another pack. The others were a pain to lose as well, but these were my favorites, I didn't want to throw them away even if they were destroyed.
No holes, no rips, no tears. They weren't bent beyond repair like they once were. The box was still destroyed, evidence of that nightmare years ago, but the cards themselves were completely fine!
This is Florida so the house already looked pretty ready for Summer regardless of extra decor, you get the idea.
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All the cards looked brand new.
His mom was long asleep at this point, this was probably 12AM and she goes to bed at 9PM. And I'm pretty sure we would have seen her running around putting up new signs if she got the urge in the middle of the night.
To me, if you're a skeptic, you should be skeptical of your own skepticism too. There is plenty we don't understand in the world and I don't think anyone should be running around pretending everything is understood and explainable. It's not.
Keep in mind, he was a kid. Probably only 6 or 7 when he did this. But it wasn't any less upsetting.
A few years later in the same apartment, I was getting ready to take my dog Domino for a walk. She had one of those little dog poop bag holders on the handle of her leash, and I was in the process of refilling it when it fell off the leash and, I shit you not, it phased through the wall.
I cried. I had so little in life, my mom was constantly moving from family to family because she couldn't get along with anyone long enough for them to let us stay there. She kept spending all our money on MLM scams and couldn't find steady work. We were on food stamps and living in my uncle's basement. My card collection was my one little thing, the one thing that was mine and only mine, and it was sitting in front of me completely destroyed.
As I'm walking back towards the room, I see a brand new sign on the door. It said Aloha! And I turned to my husband behind me and said "why did you put another sign up when we just took the other one down?"
My cousin realized that his fun session of card destroying had ended up with me in tears on the bedroom floor, so he tried gathering them back together to give them to me. The cards, including my new pack of Yellow Submarine cards, had been ripped and torn beyond repair. The box itself was ripped open. Just complete carnage on my favorite pack of cards.
Fast forward through my life, and what remained of my card collection went with me through trial after trial. I slowly began growing it again, adding a deck whenever I traveled somewhere new or just found one with art I liked.
They were in a bin with the rest of my cards, and the bin was placed in my cousin's room along with some of our other stuff temporarily.