Are children more psychic than adults? From the mouths of babes – true stories that will scare you speechless
// December 11th, 2013 // Other Ghosts
Are children more psychic than adults?
It is often said that children have a sixth sense that is particularly attuned to spirits of those who have passed away (including themselves if you believe in reincarnation). The predominant cause cited is because their conscious minds, controlled primarily by the left brain, are not as developed as adults. Others feel their laser-sharp psychic ability manifests at an early age because they are more open to possibilities than “trained” adults who over time, program children to tune out and dismiss anything they see and hear that doesn’t fit into the physical world. Whatever the reason, children around 3-5 years old often demonstrate an uncanny ability to see and hear things that adults cannot sense. If you find this hard to envision, ask yourself this: How many children have you known that had “imaginary friends”?
Recently, a user on a public forum asked other members, “What is the creepiest thing your young child has ever said to you?”. Many replies were funny:
“My cousin, who was around 5-years-old at the time, drew a picture of a black monster, looked up at me, and said “He told me to draw this. He’s coming for you. You better hide.”
Some were thought provoking:
“My five year old son asked me last week, “What do you see through the black circles in my eyes when you’re controlling me when I’m at school?”
Some were downright scary:
“The bad man just told me to get a knife and kill you.”
But a vast majority seemed to be tied to the child’s ability to see and hear something that their adult parents were simply unable to tune in. Here’s a sampling of the true stories that parents submitted (edited and revised for clarity).
Children’s strange memories
My friend Alexis
When I was young, I lived in an apartment complex with a playground nearby. One day while playing on the playground, I met a girl about my age named Alexis. At the time, I was obsessed with Pokémon (as were all the other kids during that time). When I mentioned Pokémon to her, she said she had never heard of it. I remember being in such shock – all kids knew what Pokémon was, but not Alexis.
After a while, I asked Alexis to come over to my house. I brought her into the house and went to tell my mom, who was sitting on the couch. I walked in front of my mom and Alexis stood behind the couch, near the front door. I said to my Mom, “This is my new friend Alexis!” and pointed to her. My Mom turned around and nearly fell off the couch. I remember asking her why she looked so stunned to which she replied, “Honey, I don’t see anyone standing there!”
Tell Iris I’ll see her soon
My four-year-old cousin and I were hanging around on the couch. My young cousin had a play purse that she was pretending to rummage through when she said to no one in particular, “Here, let me see if I have anything for you darling.” This caught my attention because my Aunt Lila, who had died a few years earlier, used to say this to me all the time when she visited. I knew my young cousin had never met her, nor do we talk about her.
Then my cousin says, “I’ll give you something next time, Sweetie.” By this time, I’m freaked out because my Aunt Lila used that exact same line too. I asked my young cousin where she had heard that from but she totally ignores my question and says matter-of-factly, “Tell Iris I’ll see her soon, Okay?” and then stands up and walks out of the room. You see, Iris was my deceased Aunt Lila’s sister.
Remember when I wore this dress?
When I was four-years-old, I was in my mom’s closet when I picked up an antique dress that she had just purchased. She wasn’t facing me but heard me ask, “Mommy, do you remember when I wore this dress?”
She laughed and began to correct me, “It’s only been in the house a few days, it’s an old, antique dress, there’s no way…”
I said, “No, Mommy. I wore this dress when I sang in Spain, in the choir. You remember, you were there, in the front row, with your friend.”
This sort of “memory” was typical for me as a young child. By the time I turned 7 or 8, the memories began to fade away.
Not a good ghost
A professor told this story about his little girl to our class. His daughter was four-years-old or so when they were tucking her in and she says, “Daddy, who’s that man?”
The professor replied, “What man?”
The daughter explained, “The man in the ghost costume!”
After freaking out a bit, the father finally says, “Well, maybe it is a good ghost!” to which the daughter shakes her head and says, “That is not a good ghost, Daddy.”
Early one morning, when my daughter was 4 years old, I was awakened by her yelling, “Stop it, Johnny, you’re scaring me!” There was real distress in her voice and, more alarming, only the two of us in the house! I leapt out of bed and in a few wide steps was out of my bedroom, across the hall, and shoving open her bedroom door.
She was sitting cross-legged on her bed and seemed quite startled at my bursting in. I took a quick glance around the room and didn’t see anything strange. So, I asked, “What are you up to?”
She said, “I was just talking to Johnny. He came in to play but I don’t want to play today.”
Thinking, now, that she was just playing pretend, I asked who was Johnny. She gave me a look as if it is so sad how slow I am and said, “This was Johnny’s room before he got hit by the car.”
Late night conversations
My little niece, who is about three-years-old or so, has conversations with an “imaginary friend”. She is at the stage where she can form sentences, none too complex, but sentences in general. Most of the time when she talks to the “ghost” it is random words jumbled into sentences, then she pauses as if listening to a response. Sometimes there are really clear sentences like: “I like blue” or “No blue is better than red” for example.
While I was visiting them I was usually up late at night and would listen just in-case anything was wrong. So as per usual, at 1 a.m. or so, she was having her phantom conversations and I opened my door a bit too loudly. She paused in her sentence and said “No, it is okay, that is just Randy.”
This caught my attention, since she usually paid no mind to my noise, so I stopped at her door and listened some more. She paused as if listening to the response as usual, then said “No that is your brother, Uncle Joe’s son. It is ok.”
She then went on with her normal talking until she went to sleep. I however had a little bit of trouble sleeping that night though!
Haunted Catholic school
My kid’s catholic school is over 100 years old. There is a basement under the gym that’s used for storage. I was subbing once and during recess one of the kick balls goes down the stairs. A little girl was standing at the top of the stairs yelling “Just throw it up to me!” I went over and asked who she was talking to and she replied “That big man down the stairs.” I went down and there was nobody down there. The doorway that I entered was the only way in.
I asked some of the other kids if they have seen the man before and they said “Yes, but sister told us not to talk to him”. I then asked them to describe “sister” and they described a typical nun. There haven’t been nuns at the school in 40 years.
When I was a kid, a “Mr. Rand” used to come visit me in my room several times a week. He’d talk to me and tell me about stuff like how he was killed in World War II and what it was like to fight in a war. When I was about nine-years-old, Mr. Rand stopped showing up.
Fast forward to about three years ago. My son, who was about five-years-old at the time, walks out of his room one night and says, “There’s a man in my room.” Of course, I flip out and run to his room to find nobody there. My son then informs me that “Mr. Rand said you can’t see him anymore, but to let you know he’s ok!”
The note in the wall
A friend of mine was six-years-old when she told her mother that “the lady who use to live here told me that she hates the wallpaper”. She also noted that the lady had informed the young child that “you are covering up her note”. My friend’s mom just thought it was make believe rambling and forgot about it. Well, twelve years later when the mom is redecorating and taking down the wallpaper in the attic, she finds a suicide note scratched into the wall of the attic. The mom freaks out and calls my old friend and starts crying asking if she remembered anything more about the women who spoke to her when she was a child. My friend still remembered the conversations with the mysterious woman, but in particular remembered talking to her only in the attic.
Granddad says don’t worry, everything will be okay
I was about six or seven when my parents divorced. The day before my mother told me she and my father were divorcing, I was at the kitchen table drawing while my mom cooked tea. She says I stopped instantly and looked toward the front door as if I’d heard it open. I stared at the door for a long time, then giggled, turned toward my mum and said “Granddad says don’t worry, everything will be okay and he won’t let anything bad happen to you.” I then began humming and went back to my drawing. My Granddad died ten years before I was born.
Disturbing stories from a young girl
When my little sister first started talking she used to say some really disturbing things to us. For instance, she used to tell us about how her old family would “put things inside of her that would make her cry”. She told us that her Daddy hurt her and eventually burned her so much that she was able to find us, “her new family”.
She spoke about things like that from the ages of almost two to four. She was much too young to have ever been exposed to any content where children, or anyone else, would be abused.
The “pretty girl over there”
My three-year-old nephew was at my cottage in the country. During his stay, he’d asked me numerous times about the “pretty girl over there” while pointing at one of the back bedrooms. The place is small and there is definitely nobody there so I just dismiss it as a really active child’s imagination.
Then some of my friends are visiting and they have a daughter around the same age as my nephew (although the daughter had never met my nephew). Twice in one day the little girl asked about the “pretty girl” while pointing at the exact same room that my nephew always pointed at. Definitely caught me off guard and I didn’t know what to think.
Then at Christmas, my family was over at my home when my nephew points at a picture of my wife on the wall and asks, “Is she is coming to visit us here or does she just stay at the cottage?” My wife had died ten years earlier.
Tell her it’s not her fault
When I was around six years old, my dad’s best friend committed suicide. Obviously, it was a very rough and emotional time for my dad. Joe was my dad’s best man at his wedding, the one guy who was always there for him. After my dad got married, he and my mother left Joe and the town they grew up in to start a life outside of the small city. After years of moving around California, my family eventually moved to Utah, where my father worked for a successful Internet business. Because my family were so far away from their old life with Joe, there wasn’t a lot of foresight/warning that Joe intended on ending his own life.
Joe’s sister apparently had been blaming Joe’s wife for her brother’s suicide. Apparently Joe and his wife drank a lot of booze and fought a lot. My father always said that they were a passionate couple; yes, they would fight, but he hardly knew two other individuals who were so completely in love with each other. For this reason, he didn’t believe what Joe’s sister was claiming.
A few days after Joe committed suicide, his widow called up my father sobbing about how she thought it was her fault. After about an hour of trying to console her, my father told her “If Joe could talk to us today, I guarantee you that he would tell everyone that he loved you.”
My dad was obviously distraught after that long, hysteric conversation. He had been down in his office for a while, and he decided to come up and check on his kids while making a pot of coffee to take his mind off of things. We were all supposed to be napping, but he thought he’d peek his head into our rooms to make sure we were safe, maybe try to have a little smile or brightness added to his day.
As he walks by my room, he hears a whimper. He turns around, and enters my room, where he finds me weeping uncontrollably. I was five years old, so the way I was crying seemed odd to him. Normally a five year old would not cry so dramatically.
My dad entered my room and said “Matty, what’s up? Why are you crying?”
I stopped crying for a moment, looked up at him with teary eyes and said “Rick, it’s not her fault. I love her. It’s not her fault.”
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