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Hey, weirdos. Are you guys ready for a live stream event, baby? Well, join us on May 1st at 4 p.m. Pacific, 7 p.m. Eastern for a special live stream event presented by our friends over at Audible. Catch it on Wondery's Facebook, YouTube, and Wondery.com slash Morbid Live. Hey, weirdos. I'm Alayna. I am Ash. And this is Morbid. ♪
And it's a Listener Tales episode, which means that it is brought to you by you, for you, from you, and all about you, baby. Hell yeah. We love Listener Tales. Listener Tales. Listener Tales. And today's going to be very dreamy, everybody. You guys really liked, and we did too, so I'm glad you guys really liked when we did that like astral projection and dreams kind of vibe. That's exactly what this is.
So that's what we're doing again. Because I know we're all thinking about that dream village. Oh, still. Right. It makes a comeback. You told me that. Yeah, like you told me that and I was like, holy shit. Because I've been thinking about that dream village story forever since I heard it and I can't stop.
It felt like a dreamy listener tale was due. Yeah, our cases have been super duper heavy lately. Yeah. I mean, they're always heavy, but we just covered Ed fucking Geaton. Yeah, we've been going real hard. Yeah, so let's go to a place of dreamland. Let's get dreamy and real spooky and weird with it, guys.
Let's fucking go. And my first one was written specifically for me, I feel. It's called Listener Tales. Stevie Nicks and my sleep paralysis ghost yeet my hair from my head. So that drew me in immediately. Hair and Stevie Nicks. And this one, I think I can say their name.
It is Nikki. Nikki! It says, Blanche agrees.
She does. Here in LA, we are stuck inside experiencing our first hurricane. And as if that weren't enough, we were also blessed with a brief earthquake this afternoon. Whoa, guys. We just had an earthquake on the East Coast. Which like never happens. Literally never. That's weird as fuck. That is weird. I picked these the day before yesterday. Yeah. So that hadn't even happened yet.
Whoa. I mean, I guess that's not weird because you're from LA because they happen like all the time, but it's weird that we had one here today. It's weird that it lined up and that it's the first one we're reading. Yeah, no, that's a lot. Yeah, that's weird.
That's real weird. I got a little bit of chillies. Yeah. The perfect day to stay in and listen to other people's freaky ass stories. Hell yeah. Hearing all these stories reminded me of the weirdest, most blood curdling thing I have ever experienced. So here we are. My name is Nikki and you can use my name. In this story, we'll refer to the other person as Stevie. Stevie. As I mentioned, I live in LA, but at the time of this event, I was taking a break from the city and lived in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio for part of a year. I was
I was dating a woman who was a young single mother of a toddler, and she lived in one of the worst neighborhoods in Columbus. The house was small and poorly built. You could see light coming through the thin walls where they met the floor. Everything was falling apart. It had super spooky vibes, like a former trap house, possibly haunted ick. Her son also had creepy vibes. I always locked our bedroom door at night in fear that he would show up standing over me with a kitchen knife or something.
Not to mention, a few months after dating, I'm pretty sure his mom, my girlfriend, was an actual goddamn witch. I mean, she was definitely a self-proclaimed witch, and she would do seances and rituals and stuff quite regularly. She was deadass about all this and wouldn't let me see what she was doing.
Sounds great. Probably smart. Definitely smart.
She was also just kind of generally nuts, so I didn't take anything she was doing too seriously. But after some time, things started to get real weird. And after this incident that I'm about to get to, I became a full-on believer in her witch abilities. So ever since I was a little kid, I've had a horrific time when it comes to trying to fall asleep. I was always terrified of the idea that inevitably I would die one day, as we humans do.
I'd have this wave of heat and chills at the time, at the same time, wash over me and this crushing full body realization that, holy shit, one day this body I'm in is going to be dead and it will have to be buried or burned. Oh my God, I want to puke. Oh, that is stressful. Yeah, I think about that a lot.
I feel like Samesies.
A few moments later, I felt her start to flip over to face me when she let out the most disturbing yelp I have ever heard. She pulled the blankets over her face and began sobbing, saying, no, no, no, no, no. Oh, my God, please. No. Geez. I shit my pants and screamed. What? What in the actual fuck?
She wouldn't answer me, just kept sobbing. After what felt like 10 years, but was actually probably about three minutes, she said in between sobs, you really don't want to know, I promise. Oh no, you can't do that. I was like, bitch, I most certainly do need to know what the fuck just happened. She collected herself and proceeded to tell me that when she rolled over, she opened her eyes and saw what looked like a soggy dead old woman hovering horizontally over my body facing me. I'm sorry.
It's the soggy for me. It was the soggy for me. It's the soggy for me. Why is that woman soggy? Why is she soggy? I don't like it. I don't like that at all. It makes me think of...
Dave and Mikey introduced us to that movie Talk to Me. Yeah, no, immediately I thought of the same thing. Thinking of that lady, that soggy lady. Can I tell you a just quick, quick brief move over here? Yeah. I have been afraid of that woman ever since we watched that movie. And I have a long hallway. And whenever I walk down it, I'm afraid that that lady's just like crawling behind me. Oh my God. Yeah.
i don't know it's affected me it's affected me damn great movie it's a great movie it's wild and that's i think of that lady that's exactly that's exactly what i thought that soggy ass lady because when she when she crawls into the bed yeah no i hate that i hate that a lot but watch that it's it's um a24 isn't it yeah it is yeah and we got the hand from it yeah not the real one no
I'm never touching it again, though. As we finished the movie, I was like, I'm never touching that thing again. It's now with Ouija boards for Ash. Yeah, Noah. We're going to have guests that come in the pod lab, though, sign the hand. Yeah. I already signed it, but again, never touching it. Ash signed it. She signed the deal with the hand. But I only wrote my first name, so it's not even real.
All right. Well, Nikki said, I thought I had full body chills before. Now it felt like my guts were literally falling out of all my orifices and I might as well go throw myself into traffic. Wow. This was my first encounter with any kind of paranormal thing and I was really not a fan. Imagine that being your first fucking interaction with the paranormal. Nah. My head was buzzing with the idea that what if my entire life I've had this soggy dead bitch hovering over me while I'm trying to sleep.
This soggy dead bitch. Next line. Does this mean I'm going to become a drippy old ghost bitch one day? Is my future one of moist... This is my favorite. Is my future one of a moist meemaw, a damp granny?
A moist meemaw, a damp granny. A moist meemaw is my favorite. Am I going to start being able to see this shit now? If so, I'm never going to sleep again. Of course, there was a skeptical part of me considering my wannabe witch girlfriend was mistaken.
but i could not get past that blood-curdling scream she let out yeah also the fact that she had no idea what i was laying there thinking about made it just too hard to dismiss i don't blame you but alas i've never seen my wet ghost visitor with my own eyes i've also gotten way better at not thinking about dying good job in fact in a way i think somehow all this has made me less afraid of death obviously or i probably wouldn't be listening to morbid all day that's true
Not long after I broke up with Stevie Nicks from Wish and moved back to the West Coast, it was not a very pleasant breakup. Shortly after I moved, she called and cursed me over voicemail. I don't remember exactly what she said, and I'm pretty sure she was kind of speaking in tongues at one point, but it gave me the chills and I deleted it.
A few days later, I was at work and a giant patch of my hair fell out. I'm talking a golf ball-sized chunk of hair just detached from my motherfucking head while I sat at my desk. Mind you, Stevie Nicks wasn't a full-time witch. She was also a hairstylist. It was not me. Were you dating Ash? No. I've never seen a dead, soggy woman hovering over any of my past partners or current partners.
Like my current partner. I'm like, don't worry, husband. I haven't seen that. And this felt all too personal. Some may say I had alopecia, but I believe I was cursed. I'm just glad she didn't send moist meemaw for me. Oh my god. Moist meemaw. It's my favorite. P.S. I started trying to write this story on my phone, but somehow it deleted itself from my notes app, completely vanished, which has never happened. And when I sat down and tried to use my computer to write this, it began malfunctioning and disconnecting from the internet for seemingly no reason.
It seems as though Stevie and Granny are still here fucking with me and my shit. Damn. PPS, keep it weird, but not so weird that you start dating Stevie Nicks from Wish in an old trap house where drippy wet Meemaw ghost hovers over you while you're trying to get some shut-eye away from the potentially murderous toddler, and then you break up with the witch and she makes your hair fall out via voicemail. Bye!
Wow. Nikki. Nikki, you went through it, baby. Nikki went through it. Also, did all of your hair end up falling out? Are you okay, Nikki? Did it come back? I need to know, Nikki. We need an update, Nikki. I need to make sure you're okay. Honestly. I need to make sure that you haven't seen any more damp grannies. They said they did. Or moist memas since the writing of this email. I know. Okay. They said they never had seen the moist mema. Yeah, I want to make sure that it hasn't made itself known. God. God.
As it appeared, you know? Oof. Damn, Nikki. Yeah. I'm glad you got out of there. If you have a witch girlfriend or boyfriend or however they identify as a witch, make sure that like if you're not fully into it, you don't brush their hair, your hair in their presence. Oh, yeah. You don't leave any part of yourself around there. Don't leave any part of you around. Yeah. Don't clip your nails. It's true. Don't even shower at their place. Just watch Satanic Panic.
Do that anyway. Watch that. You should. It's really funny. So good. Wow. Okay. Thank you for that, Nikki. And I hope you're okay. I know. Me too. So let's move on to the time not really my grandma tried to tractor beam kill me whilst I slept. Yeah. Yeah. You know? I don't know if you are supposed to use this person's name. Yeah. I'm not going to because I think it's unclear. So we're going to be... We'll call them something else. How about...
Miss Mary Mac. Miss Mary Mac. It just came to me. That's very long. Interesting that you chose that. M-M. M-M. M-M-M-M. M-M-M-M. M-M-M. Okay, so as a hospice nurse in a mountainous, often rural area, I am not shy about or afraid of death and related subjects for the most part. However, as a highly sensitive person with a vague awareness that if I let myself be open, I would have a possible unmanageable amount of no longer on this plane visitors. And frankly, I just don't have the bandwidth for that.
I don't like being around too many physical folks, but at least I can walk away from those guys when I'm overwhelmed. Relatable. I feel that on a very serious level.
That's so sweet. I also love committed procreation. Committed procreation. Like a crime. Like a crime. I love that the...
Yeah. Yeah.
Okay, I think. Again, Hospice Brain recognizes that at some point it is a kindness to support instead of harass a body with treatments that might maybe perhaps on a long shot help.
Insert various illnesses, injuries here. But will absolutely not stop the process of sometimes a body is old and just no longer able to replicate cells appropriately and then dies from taking its course. I express condolences and offer support to mom and her hubby and expect that it will be a short matter of time. That night I'm sleeping, as one hopefully does, and have a unique dream.
Now, I have cultivated a sleep life of lucid and vivid dreams as I believe that it is a really cool but also an important necessity to having a deeper understanding of ourselves. I love that. I know, isn't that cool? I love that you've just like committed yourself to lucid and vivid dreaming because you're like –
It's important. I'm like, I like that. I think it's great. I want to, I feel like in my dreams, I can be like, hey, wake up or something like that. But I can't really control much else beyond that. Oh, see, I can control sometimes, not always. Yeah, I can't. It's like suddenly something hits where I'm like, oh, I'm lucid. And I'm like, oh, go in there. Or like ask that person this thing. Yeah. Like that's when I did that, like what time is it? Yes, I don't want to do that. And it was real weird.
I don't want to do that at all. Sometimes I'm also not in my dream. Do you ever have dreams like that where you're just like watching something but like you're not a part of it? I don't know if I have that. Yeah. I can't think of like an example but like I'll be like watching something but like I'm not there. Like I don't know how to. Interesting. I don't know if I have that. Yeah. Like a movie almost. Like you're watching a movie. But it's just like in front of you. Yeah. Yeah. I don't think I've ever had that happen. But maybe I just don't remember. Maybe you don't know. But yeah, I want a lucid dream anyways. Yeah.
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It is, of course, the wee hours of the morning. You know the hour, I mean. And I am joined in my dream by the image of dying granny sitting in a recliner with a white sweater on, looking as full of spit and vinegar as ever. I love that. Like when I had met her 20 years ago. I'm like, hey, Frances, it's good to see you. You look nice today and feel joy radiating from me.
Yeah.
Suddenly, instead of being in a conversation with mom, I feel the hazy curtain of the other world shift from between me and Francis to between me and my mom and start to abruptly absorb my joy and replace it with a growing fear and dread. Francis is leaving and she's trying to take me with her. Ooh, isn't that fucked? In a way I've never experienced, I am being pulled towards her, not physically, but as if she was trying to slurp the life essence out of me.
Okay. Miss Mary Mac, I'm going to need you to know that that upset me in a way I can't describe. Slurp the life essence out of me. Slurp the life essence out of me. Honestly, it makes me think of Hocus Pocus. You should read the next line. When they're all just like, you know. Miss Mary Mac said that. Oh my God, are you serious? I was just going to say it. When they're all like, when Mary burps. Ew. Thank you.
Think Hocus Pocus without the boss makeup and costumes. Amazing. Boss makeup and costumes. Way to write that.
Though I knew I was sleeping, I could feel myself being dragged through or out of myself, like literally being sucked into the void. And unlike my normal dreams, I wasn't able to control or change the situation. I'm so far gone, my mom is unaware that I'm quote-unquote leaving, and I can no longer communicate with her, like my mouth has been filled with glue or sewn shut, kind of like Billy Butcherson in Hocus Pocus. Boom. Shit.
With a dull needle and all. That's right. The only thing I can think to do is go into a sort of mental gymnastics, and I throw myself into the endeavor of struggling against her pull, all the while trying to get some sign across to my mom because she's a badass act-first, ask-questions-later woman that wouldn't stand for such otherworldly chicanery. LAUGHTER
I start to feel lost, the darkness creeping into my vision, and I wake up audibly crying out for my mom and just sit there in the dark trying to catch my breath and hoping also I didn't wake up the kiddo I'd fallen asleep next to because moms. So I didn't die sucked into thick oblivion, but Miss Frances had. I again talked with my mom on the phone later that day to hear that Frances had taken her last breath through the night.
That's weird. Isn't that fucking creepy? I was not surprised given the adventures of slumber, but also was disinclined to share the story of how despite how she had made so many people hurt and uncomfortable in life, she couldn't leave without adding one more to the tally. Ooh. It's so creepy that like she wasn't the nicest human in life. And it seems like something someone like that would do, be like, I'm taking you with me. Yeah. Like, damn.
You really are. You are fascinating.
Thanks for listening, all. Keep it weird, but not so weird that you're a cynical heckler in life. You have to go rummaging around in the minds of your not-really-family to find a shred of joy on your way to wherever it is you're going. But seriously, I hope Francis is at peace and join the others in the same way that the bad guy did in Kubo and the Two Strings at the end.
I won't spoil it, but it was a beautiful way to create joy and not perpetuate hate. And it made me cry with the beauty of it. If you haven't seen it, I have not. I haven't either. Do yourself a huge favor and take the day off to do so. Worth it. Love you guys. Thank you for being amazing and normalizing a fascination with the less lovely aspects of life and death. Here's my sweet dog, Penny. I love your sweet dog, Penny. And the front yard graveyard. Ooh, you have really pretty trees. Oh, damn.
Oh, that's gorgeous. That's gorgeous. I like that you wrote Appalachia, like an overscrut, like an Appalachia's over here. Damn. That was just spooky. Truly spooky. Like that was just spooky. But Miss Mary Mac, that was chilling. And it was also like super lovely at the end that you were just like, I hope, you know, I hope Frances is at peace. Yeah, just like wishing the best for you. Good for you. She's trying to pull your ass into the afterlife and you're still like,
Frances, I hope you have the day you deserve. Yeah, that takes... Not even. You're like, I hope you have a good day. Like, that takes a bigger person. That was great. Miss Mary Mac. All right. My next one is listener tales. Kayla's story inspired me to send in my own. Dub dub. You rock. Yeet. Yeet. I have a tale that I feel compelled to share after listening to Kayla's story on the last listener tales episode. It has a similar sort of theme to Kayla's story, though quite different in its contents. The story is about a girl who is in love with a man.
This is my first time to send anything into a podcast, so I hope I've done this all right. You've done everything right. You've done it perfectly. Please see attached double-spaced putt-a-foe for your reading pleasure. Thank you so much for checking this out and all the amazing content that you all chum out for us. P.S. I've also attached photo evidence of my lovely fur babies because I know you guys like that sort of thing. Oh, we love that sort of thing. We love a fur baby. Also, I see a town, the name town in this PDF.
Do we have another Dreamtown? We have another Dreamtown. We have another Dreamtown. And this one's pretty wild. Guys, I love these Dreamtowns. Keep sending them. I know. If you have like a specific Dreamtown, label it Dreamtown. Yeah, like if that's what, yeah, because we'll do whole episodes on these. These are fascinating. A whole episode of Dreamtowns. Yes. That would be phenomenal. Okay, so it starts. Hi, Elena, Ash, Deb, Deb, and Mikey. Long time listener. First time caller here. My name is Amber. Go ahead and use it if you want. There's lots of us and I don't really care if people know this is my story or not.
I've toyed with sending in a couple stories in before, but quite frankly, haven't made the time or the effort. I honestly felt that while my stories are mine and interesting to me, they weren't anything especially spectacular or interesting enough to write in about. But I think they might be. So go ahead and tell them to us. Do it.
Then, while at work cutting up a tonsil, I'm a histotechnician, I think? That's okay. Most people haven't heard of it. I haven't. I heard Kayla's story on Listener Tale 72, Dreams, Astral Productions, and Alternate Dimensions, and I had to stop, take my gloves off, and write down her name in the episode. I got that compulsion that
I got that compulsion that so many of your listeners get after a particular story hit that deep cord within them. It makes them feel as if they're itching to get out of their own skin. I knew this was the story that would finally urge me to send a tale of my own and to you lovely ladies of the lurid, laughable, and ludicrous. Do you not love that? I was just going to say that honestly, I want that to be like a band name. Lurid, laughable, and ludicrous. I also want to add it to my resume, which I don't have one, but I'll make one simply to add it to that. Yeah. Yeah.
Now, see, Kayla's story is incredibly similar to my story. Well, maybe not quite the same flavor, but certainly in the same pantry, refrigerator, grocery store. I didn't quite think that metaphor through all the way. We get it. But to quote Ash using one of my most eye-roll-inducing you kids that keep creating a dumbass new way to say things-isms, it's giving familiarity, it's giving nostalgia, it's giving chills. Did I use that right? Like Elena, I am an old, a proud geriatric millennial, as we're called. Hell yeah. Yeah.
I know this game. I've played this game feeling. And as much as my story is a keystone of series of events for me, it has always sounded fantastical and impossible to others. I've only shared it with a handful of people. Luckily, they received it well and viewed it as more of a questioning their own views on reality kind of way rather than a she's a bit loonier than we thought and maybe she should be on medication kind of way. I've also always been a rational and logical sort of person born January 4th or 24th run away with a dash.
I looked it up and that is a Capricorn cusp, but Aquarius. So I feel like it kind of makes sense because you say with a wild imagination, but a burning need to learn about everything. Impossible, yet I try. So it pretty much fits perfectly. So you really have like the rational, logical side for sure. Yes, exactly. But the wild imagination is so Aquarius. There you go. However, look at it.
However, when you tell people you've spent time in what you think is an alternate reality, timeline, dimension, what have you, that raised eyebrow, blank stare is all too familiar. It's true, but we're here for you. We're so here. Similar to Kayla, however, I was ejected and haven't been back since, though the manner in which it occurred definitely differs from Kayla's story. It's been about 16 years, give or take, since I saw the town with the old clock tower. Not kidding.
Full body chill. So excited. When you just said, since I saw the town with the old clock tower, even just saying it out loud right there, I'm chilling. And ready. I am chilling. Like, I'm in my seat. My butt is held on to let's go. Yeah, I'm already into this. When we dabble
in An Explore the Unknown, something inexplicable happens. It seems to live in your very blood, always reminding you it's there, but filling you with a cooling awareness that there is so much more to this universe and the human mind than we will likely ever understand. And the dividing line between the two is fuzzy and fluid. You're an incredible writer, by the way. There are so many of you
If you're thinking about writing a book, write a book. Do it. Or write whatever you feel like you want to write. But like write something. Write something. Write it so everybody can read it. Because a lot of you are so fucking good. You guys have a way to just like paint a picture. Yeah. Like this is just that's just like a beautifully constructed half of a paragraph. This whole thing is. It really is. So like do it. If you're ever thinking of doing it, just fucking do it.
Now, while this is immensely intriguing and alluring, those of us who have embarked on these paths build an understanding that there are things we can't explain that are more powerful than we currently are equipped to understand. Okay, enough buildup. Here's my relatively short but impactful story of the town I frequented and the day I was kicked out by something dark.
When I was in high school, I had a close friend who started talking to me over IM, cue nostalgic sigh, about astral travel, though I don't think he ever actually used that term. I believe it was much later when telling my cousin about the experience that she told me about astral travel and gave me a book about it. That's when I learned the term. From what I recall, my friend said that he wanted to quote unquote show me something, and I said, okay. And then he typed out instructions.
He said the thing he wanted to show me wasn't here. It was in another place. Confused but intrigued, I read the instructions on how to relax my body, clear my mind, and asked how he planned to show me something based on the instructions. He replied saying that he didn't know if it would work and he couldn't tell me much more just to try it, to take my time, and reply whenever I felt it was quote-unquote time.
I was sitting on my bed with the laptop that my debate coach let me borrow. Yeah, it was supposed to be to work on research, but I was a teenager, so of course I used it to chat with my friends too. Of course. And reading his words, I thought, what the hell? Why not? I closed my eyes and relaxed my body, focusing on my breath while imagining a white light building around me. Deep breath in, steady release out. Deep breath in and out, in and out.
Though it took a few minutes for me to be able to fully clear my mind, certainly not an easy task for an OCD-riddled chronic overthinker. Soon, I was seeing something. It was strange, and it's a bit hard to explain, but there was a point in my relaxation exercise where I felt as though if I opened a pair of inner eyelids. My eyelids were closed, and I was sitting on my bed. I could feel myself in my room. Yet, I felt an odd warmth under my eyelids and had the sensation of opening them, even though they remained closed. Huh.
I thought I had glimpsed something, but I was so confused by the sensation that I lost my focus and opened my eyes fully. I stared at the laptop screen, allowing my eyes to adjust. As I focused on the IM box, my friend typed and entered the words, What did you see?
I stared for a minute before responding. He didn't know, he just had funny timing, right? I typed, I don't know, and that seemed to be the opening needed. I suppose he felt that if it wouldn't work for me, he'd know relatively quickly, and me saying, I don't know, rather than nothing, or something to that effect, seemed to give him hope. So he told me to try it again, to do the same thing, but let it continue. So I did.
The same process of relaxing and clearing my mind, then the same sensation of opening a pair of inner eyelids. But this time, I just continued to focus on my breathing. It wasn't long before I became aware that I was seeing a large tree.
I almost said that. Willow.
As my vision focused, I noticed the things floating around the tree were orbs of light, soft-looking green-gold bubbles floating lazily around the tree, weaving in and out of the branches. After a minute or two, I opened my eyes fully again and looked at the laptop screen and began typing what I saw. He encouraged me to do it again, but to approach the tree and touch one of the bubbles. So I did.
I repeated the same process, and this time, the meadow around me was more crisp. I could feel the breeze, the warm sun on my face, and hear the grass rustling as I moved toward the tree. I paused for a moment by the tree and watched the green gold orbs drift about. When one crossed to me and danced in front of me, I reached my hand out and touched it. I just
I genuinely can't recall exactly how I ended up on the cobblestone pathway. I don't remember any sort of whirlwind feeling or being dropped down a tube or anything like that. But after touching the orb, the next thing I recall is looking down at my feet, seeing a slim pair of well-worn brown boots on my feet, the hem of a simple emerald green dress, and the cobblestone pathway that faded into the trees behind me and stretched forward toward a stone wall. I'm literally obsessed with this. It just sounds like...
I can see this. Yeah, this is whimsical as fuck. I'm in. Okay.
Fuck. I know, full chills. Fuck. I am chills in this moment. Fuck.
This I've never heard of. Like before this story. I fully believe it. Like I'm not doubting any part of it, but I've never heard people seeing each other. I saw you. Right? Yeah.
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Nice. Yes.
What you're hearing are the sounds of people everywhere putting on Bombas socks, underwear, and t-shirts made from absurdly soft materials that feel like plush clouds. Yeah, that plush. And the best part? For every item you purchase, Bombas donates another to someone facing homelessness. Bombas. Big comfort for everyone. Go to Bombas.com slash Wondery and use code WONDERY for 20% off your first purchase. That's Bombas.com slash WONDERY. Code WONDERY. Yeah.
And it gets wilder. It gets wilder. Let's go. The words my friend had typed were in the IM box when my eyes focused on the screen, and I felt a combination of several feelings at once. Confusion, skepticism, doubt, and yet there were goosebumps on my arm.
I am, however, a natural cynic and skeptical about things until convinced. As I previously alluded to, I was on a debate team, competitive speech, mocked Congress and theater, and was both a state and nationally ranked speaker. What, what? Amazing. I competed and placed in about 100 tournaments in my high school career. I say this not to brag, but to illustrate how ingrained in my nature it is to question, explore, and poke holes into the unknown. To be curious, but not naive.
So when I read what my friend had typed, my gut response was, prove it. Hell yeah, it was. Because you got a little bit of Capricorn in there. Yeah, exactly. You're on that cusp. Hell yeah. I typed, what do you mean? And he repeated, I saw you standing on the path. Whoa. Again, I have to emphasize that I have a vivid imagination and I'm also very skeptical normally.
I was certain there was a way he was able to guess what I'd imagined and was playing a sort of game or just wanting to do some imaginative roleplay. Nothing sexual. We were only ever friends, but we were also total nerds and random imaginative roleplay wasn't outside the realm of possibility. I feel that. You're just roleplaying. Exactly. Just friends things. What did I look like? I asked, thinking that would be an easy way to begin poking holes. You were wearing a green dress, his response read. Cool.
Okay, but it's not exactly a secret that I like the color green. Could just be an easy guess. You had long, wavy auburn hair and you were a little taller than you actually are. I froze, staring at his words in disbelief. See, I left out a detail earlier. When I first noticed myself on the stone pathway, I caught a glimpse of my hair and held the end of it in my hands. It was wavy, long, reaching to my lower back and was a deep, rich auburn.
The reason this is worth mentioning is that in reality, my hair is a dark brown shade and naturally very straight. And at the time I was in high school, it was a little past shoulder length. So like completely different. The goosebumps made their reappearance. My next tact was to ask him to describe where I was, to which he responded in perfect detail about the surroundings I had just seen. I was now beyond baffled. How? Was the only thing that could infiltrate my buzzing senses.
My question about my appearance could have led him to guess that the differences mentioned, incorporating conversations we'd had in the past, but I didn't intend to look different. And even if it was my subconscious, he still described the environment around me perfectly. The very air around me in my bedroom felt charged. There was a sort of buzzing feeling in the air, but also an almost faintly pressing feeling of higher pressure. I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but it's the only way I can really think to describe it.
It does. I feel like I can feel that. Yeah. It was several minutes before I responded. Are you messing with me? I finally asked. Another thing about myself, especially at the time, I prided myself on not being easily caught off guard and being able to think quickly on my feet, a side effect of the years of competitive speaking, debate, and theater.
I'm sorry, are we...
When I read this, I was like, did Elena write this? Yeah, like, are we the same? Yeah. I feel that a lot. Very much so. What followed was a series of messages in which my friend assured me that he wasn't trying to mess with me or to make me look dumb. He had stumbled into something and wanted to share it with someone else, someone he thought had the ability not only to stumble into it as well, but to grasp it. After some reassurances, he convinced me to do it again, that he would approach me in this other little world, whatever it was. So I did. I'm so in for this. And he did.
The man who had been standing by the break in the wall was him. Over the next hour or two, we talked and walked around this odd little world, then would go back to the IM chat to talk more about what we saw and said there. Each of us was taking further steps in the chat to confirm that we weren't leading one another in any way, and we were actually experiencing something unique and shared. This is amazing. It's beautiful. Yeah, it really is. I feel like this would also make like a fantastic movie. Oh my god, yeah. Right?
When it came to say goodnight, we agreed to meet back the next day and try to repeat the experience. We re-entered this world several times, each time talking and exploring the little town and the surrounding woods, then talking over the IM chat about what we saw and said to one another. It was fascinating and exciting, but it was strange and unexplainable to me at the time. However, I was absorbed in this ability to slip into another world and experience something that felt like a hidden secret.
a great title for the movie. Truly. Hidden Secret. Hidden Secret. It wasn't long before the draw was strong enough that I was going without my friend. I'd walk around the little town square, stare up at that clock tower, and even met a nice older man who liked to make pleasant small talk when he saw me. I wish I could remember his name. I do too. Damn. Isn't that cool? And then you have to wonder, like, was that somebody else astral projecting? Yeah. Or like, did that person live in that town wherever you were? Yeah, like, what is this? That's so cool.
"'There came a day when I entered the outskirts of the little town, the same as I always did, appearing on the cobblestone path outside the wall, and immediately felt that something was off. The air held a distinct sour note of foreboding, and it was quiet. There were dark storm clouds in the sky, the sun fighting to be seen, and it didn't occur to me until that moment that the sky there had always been clear and bright. Something was wrong.'
It was with trepidation and unease that I approached the break in the wall. There were no signs or sounds of people moving about the square, as there usually was. There was a palpable feeling of dread and anticipation filling the air. As I crossed into the town square, the very darkness of the clouds filling the sky seemed to detach from the clouds,
Ooh. Ooh.
Damn.
Damn. I wasn't sure why, if I'd done something wrong or if something dark, maybe not even from that place, had crossed a similar entryway I had and was pushing everything out. Was the town okay? Was the friendly man okay? Oh man, is he okay? I hope so.
Oh, damn. Ooh, that's got to chill. Yeah.
Either way, I've never gone back, never even really tried. There are certain lessons that we only need to learn once to get the point. When something reaches into your very core and imprints an intent upon you, the need to push the boundary, poke holes, or search for answers is simply evaporated. Sometimes you don't need answers to still know something to be true.
I just love that. I love how you write. The 16 or so years since this occurred has taken a lot of the detail with it. I've always prided myself on having a great memory, a photographic memory. But whether it was my stressful years of navigating my 20s, sliding into being a high-functioning alcoholic, two and a half years sober now. Hell yeah. Congratulations. Congratulations.
or the very nature of what I experience, the details have faded. I've written the experience as best as I can remember with as much detail as I can remember without letting my imagination try to take over. I can still feel the dividing line. To this day, I've never tried to go back to the small, quaint town with the old clock tower, and I may have just written the whole thing off as an odd imaginative experience or some weird folly ado, but it isn't my only experience.
I've had many occurrences of intuition and my good old gut being more obnoxious, more of an, I love this, more of an obnoxious know-it-all than I used to be. I had a close friend who used to call me her turning fork because of my ability to feel. A tuning fork. Oh, tuning fork, sorry. Because of my ability to feel energy and intuitively know a truth before it's confirmed. Because of my ability to feel energy and intuitively know a truth before it's confirmed.
Ooh.
I was at home one night, relaxing after a long shift at work, sitting on the couch and watching forensic files again, as one does. As one does. And letting my mind wander. I was wearing a necklace a close friend had given to me and was holding the pendant in my hand while my mind was wandering over the hundreds of random thoughts that flashed through my head after a hectic day. For some reason, I had a random, persistent thought to close my eyes. Not in a sleepy way, but as if someone kept whispering in my ear to do so. So I did.
It was as if I was sitting in the upper corner of his garage ceiling, my back to the corner, and looking down on the crowded workspace. His back was bent over whatever he was currently working on, and he was sitting at one of the tables. My friend, who had given me the necklace, had talked about his garage-slash-workshop. He liked to build things and tinker with electronics, and I quickly realized what I was seeing. I could clearly hear the music he was listening to. A particular song was playing that he'd showed me a couple weeks before.
What the fuck?
I texted my friend and asked him if he was sitting at a table in his garage working on something. Yes. Came to reply, then question mark. Like, what the fuck? You're wearing a white t-shirt. T-shirt, I just said. T-shirt? Are you wearing a white t-shirt? You got a white t-shirt on?
You're wearing a white t-shirt and dark blue basketball shorts, I texted quickly. Question mark, question mark was his response. Then, stalker, lol. Do you have that all-time low song playing? I sent my next message immediately. Yes, what the fuck, he replied a second later. Then, seriously, are you here, lol? I don't know where you live, I responded. Then I sent him a picture of me sitting on my couch. Weird, you're gonna have to explain this to me tomorrow, he replied.
Side note, funny how we use LOL now to ensure our messages sound lighthearted. It's a somewhat disturbing mental image to actually imagine yourself or someone lolling every time they use it, though. I think of that all the time, especially something like that, where it's like, seriously, are you here? Stalker. It's like, what?
Like, no one's laughing at that. Like, we would all just be, like, rocking back and forth laughing maniacally. Even when, like, I will write it myself, like, sometimes I feel like there's a voice in my head that's like, you're not laughing. Yeah. Like, don't say that. Sometimes in my head it's just like, LOL. Like, what the fuck? Exactly. The next day at work, oh yeah, we worked together, I told him about what had happened. He verified the things I'd seen, the layout of his garage and work tables, and made several jokes about me being a stalker or witch of some kind. He
He and I had many conversations about the strange and unusual before. However, he did ask me a few questions, and I agreed that it sounded like some sort of astral projection of some kind. I berated him a few different ways to be sure he wasn't screwing with me. We had a very playful and teasing sort of friendship, so it would not be out of the ordinary. And I felt confident that he wasn't. He genuinely seemed a bit spookied by it, and I saw the goosebumps on his arms myself.
As I write this, it occurs to me that many of the more unexplainable and fantastical events that I've experienced in my life seem to involve or intensify around men I'm close to, ranging from family to close friends to romantic connections. I'm not sure if there's anything to that, or if it's just my brain trying to connect a pattern of any sort into some kind of meaningful answer. It could also be a coincidence that the necklace my friend gave me, the one I was holding when I felt compelled to close my eyes and saw him in his garage, was a pendant with a tree of life.
Yeah. I do, too. And I also love the way your brain works. Yeah, it works very similar to yours. Yeah.
As is my custom, I rambled a bit more on this than was my intention, but I haven't really even thought about all this that much in years, and it was a journey to sit down and write it all out. It even took me longer than I thought it would to actually finish this and get it sent in. I'm doing so, however, oh, excuse me, in doing so, however, I have been feeling a sort of pull to try to lean into these possibilities more. And since I became sober, I've been feeling my inner tuning fork more and more again. That's awesome.
I love that. I know. Maybe I can find the meadow with the tree again, and maybe it will take me somewhere else. I hope it does.
I want you to go somewhere even cooler. Yeah, and I hope you're safe when you go. Yeah. Maybe it's best not to try as the possible repercussions may not be worth it. Probably. Either way, for the first time in several years, I think I'm ready to start trying to clear my mind again. But I'm not setting any expectation with it and will always sheath myself in protective light as I clear my mind. For all I know, that was the only thing that guarded me last time. Thank you again for all that you do. You ladies are a point of joy and connection for me and many other listeners in this crazy world. Thank you.
I love the way you cover the cases you choose and put so much emphasis on the victims in each case and the way you manage to find cases that so many of us have probably never heard of through all of our various shows, like episode 289, The Swamp Angel. Alayna, one of my favorite episodes of a case I've ever heard. That case was wild, wasn't it? Yeah, and they said they'd never heard of it. Sorry, I read that wrong. Yeah.
And Ash, your episode about Betty Page was wonderfully done. Thank you. I learned so much I didn't realize I didn't know about her story. It's hard to even narrow down favorites, and I won't because I love them all, even the early ones. I love you. But those two have always stuck in my mind. Keep doing what you guys do, and I hope you continue to have happiness and success in all that you touch. Thank you.
Aww. I was gonna say, I think we might be. Hell yeah!
After being on a several years long hiatus. Maybe I'll actually be able to finish one of those books one day. You will do it. And how cool. You guys are definitely connected in some way. Because I didn't read this before. And at the beginning, you literally said like, finish that book. Yeah, like you're writing those books. Like I didn't even read this before. No, she didn't. I had no idea. Wow.
If you like Morbid, you can listen early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. Before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. Ash, your genuinen- Genuinity. Yeah. Genuinity. An-an-an-an-any. Gen-en-ingenuity? Genuity? Ingenuity.
Are you talking of my ingenuity? I'm like...
Genuinity, I think. Yeah. Thank you. Your genuinity and empathy are relatable on a deep level for me as well. And you constantly remind me not to resent my empathetic nature and to keep a broad view when times are tough. Thanks. Aw. You two have such a pure and approachable dynamic with a wonderful blend of real talk and limiting your personal life to your personal life while still making us feel like we're sitting with a group of friends and listening to one of our favorite subjects.
I love the formula your show has. It has all been from the get-go, purely you two and your reactions and growth through the years. And I think that's amazing. Oh, man. Thank you so much. I know. I'm going to cry right now. I know. How else would I have gotten half my family and many coworkers to become weirdos too? Hell yeah.
Hello, everyone. Hello. Thank you again for all that you do, and thank you for taking the time to read this. Maybe there are others out there who have seen the meadow with the tree, or maybe these things show themselves differently to each one of us who encounter them. Is it perception, or is it reality? But then, how does one even define reality? If reality is this fluid, does that mean my Hogwarts letter just got lost in the multidimensional shuffle years ago? I've been saying that for decades, man. Keep going.
Keep it weird, but not so weird you send yourself down an existential rabbit hole. Or do, whatever floats your boat and whacks your pinata. Just remember not to lose yourself all amidst the waves or the candy. Best wishes, warmest regards, Amber. P.S. Just had to throw in the Schitt's Creek reference there at the end. Amber, I love you. Holy crap.
Shit. I want to see that meadow with that tree. I want to do that so bad. I feel like I don't want Amber to go back there, but I want Amber to experience like another kind of place because I'm worried for Amber to go back there. Amber, I want you to have another lovely and safe experience in a different place where that tree sends you. And I would totally read your book if you wrote one. I would.
Write that book. When you write it, please send it to us. We'll write that book. We'll read that book. We will share that book. Let's go. I will put that book on my new bookshelf. You got to do it.
It would be so fun to write like a fiction story about one of these astral projection towns. And just like really get crazy with it. Because you could really get so creative with it and you could really like take it in different places. It would also be so cool to like write it as you astral project. Like come back and write some of it. And write what you see and kind of add your own things. That's interesting. It's almost like a research trip. Maybe you could write it off. A writing retreat, if you will. Yeah.
Your own writing retreat. That you create in your mind. That'd be fucking awesome. Wow. That was amazing. Holy shit. Yeah, that was crazy. All right. I mean, moving on to my TikTok lucid dream, my friends. I love this. Let's go.
Let me bring this up. The time TikTok fucked my lucid dream. My Walmart mirror is a portal? Yeet. All of the above. Hello, Ashelina and Deb Deb. My name is Nick, and yes, you can use it. I have attached a pittifa of my experience lately with lucid dreaming. I want to start out by saying I absolutely am obsessed with your podcast. It is pretty much the only podcast I listen to all day, every day. I still
I started listening to it during 2020. During that time, I had recently moved to a new city, and when the world shut down, or I recently had moved to a new shitty, shitty, goddamn. Liz, because we read too fast.
I had recently moved to a new city and then the world shut down. There we go. That wasn't you. That was all me. So I didn't have much company besides you wonderful ladies. I'm glad we were keeping you company. I instantly felt like I was hanging out with my besties. I relate to you all so much. Ash, I am also a Gemini. What? What?
And I am also somewhat of an empath, I suppose, and feel deeply connected to spiritual events and such. Hence why I'm writing this story. Elena, I am also obsessed with your sense of humor and your witty comments. Thank you. You always keep it 100%
I do. You absolutely do. And I adore you for that. Thank you. I aspire to be as carefree and lovely as both of you. You are. You are lovely as fuck. Lovelier even. To start this story, I will say I've always had a strong intuition, feel other people's feelings deeply, and have always been hypersensitive to the feelings of places, people, animals, etc. My eternal catchphrase is, I don't know, I just get a vibe. I relate to that. I was going to say that's Ash.
Now you're good. Never be sorry for anything. Never.
I have many stories about my lucid dreams or times my intuition has saved me. For example, the time my badass women intuition saved me from a creeping predator. Hell yeah, it did. I've always had lucid dreams since I was a child, but I've been having them frequently again and even started to direct them. When you did your episode with Andrew and talked about lucid dreaming, I knew I had to write in about my tale. However, this lucid dream that I'm going to tell you about still freaks me out.
I recently moved into a new house, and when I moved into the house, I instantly felt that there was an older gentleman spirit that was still lingering in the house. Not harmful, just a dude chillin', livin' life. You know, just a vibe. This will be important later. The night before this lucid dream, I'd seen a TikTok saying that if you lucid dream, oh no, that if you lucid dream, you should never ask the time or day. Something that you talked about in the episode with Andrew.
Being the stupid bitch that I am, I thought, what the hell? Honestly, welcome to the stupid bitch club, because I also did that. That night I fell asleep and noticed I was lucid dreaming. I was in a room full of people with no faces mindlessly wandering around me in a blank white room. I hate that they had no faces. I stopped one of the people and asked them what the time and date was. As soon as I asked, I regretted it. The lady started screaming at me and I was launched backward out of the room into the pitch dark. Then I woke up in my bed or so I thought.
Nope, I was still dreaming.
This time, I was sitting in my bed staring into the mirror. Then again, the mirror shatters and I am seemingly startled awake again. This cycle continued five times. I startle awake, the mirror breaks, I startle awake again. An endless cycle of torture that I couldn't wake up from. This is awful. Isn't that horrible? It feels so suffocating. That's exactly the word. Usually in my lucid dreams, I can just wake myself up, but this time I was trapped.
After the fifth time, I was still lucid dreaming, but I launched up in bed and instead of looking in the mirror, I turned my head to look into my pitch black master bedroom. As I turned my head, I see an older man standing in the doorway. There's your gentleman. He stares back at me and just whispers, be careful, and disappears into the dark. I'm like, I don't know if I should be terrified of that or like if I want to high five that man. And he whispered it, so he's like, be careful.
And then just disappeared into the dark. I'd be like... But it's like there's so many different ways you can whisper something. Was he like... Or was he like... I feel like he was... There's a difference. Because I feel like he's like a chill gentleman. Yeah. Because she described him as an older gentleman. Yeah. And she was like, I'm not worried about this guy at all. He's just chilling. Yeah. So I feel like this guy was just like...
Yeah, like calm it down. Like take it easy. Yeah. It's all good. And then he just like Homer Simpson'd into the bushes. Yeah, exactly. Maybe it was Homer Simpson. Yeah, maybe it was Homer Simpson. I finally wake up, for real this time, my heart pounding. The next morning I tell my boyfriend about my dream, the faceless people, the reoccurring torture, and the old man that had come to visit me. My boyfriend grew up in the same neighborhood that we're living in now, so he knew the previous owner of our house.
I never mentioned the feeling of the older gentleman to him before because, well, I wasn't sure how to handle my intuitions and feelings just yet, and I didn't want him to be weirded out.
As I continue to explain my dream to him and tell him about the cautionary message from the older man, he stops, turns, and stares at me. I ask him why he looks so frightened, and he asks me to describe the older man. I told him he was tall, bony-looking, with a head of gray hair. He shows me a picture of the previous owner of the house and asks me, does he look like this man? It was indeed the same man from my dreams. We were shook.
Now,
Now that I've confirmed that intuition, I feel quite at peace knowing I have him around to help guide me. That is nice. I know, right? However, I'm still not sure what his cautionary message was about. Perhaps don't listen to every stupid thing you hear on TikTok, or maybe my mirror is a portal that I just bought it from Walmart, so could it really be haunted? Anyway, I'm still continuing to learn more about my intuitions and feelings and would love any guidance you all have on the subject. I love you both more than words and keep it weird. Mm-hmm.
I don't know. I think that mirror could be trying to tell you something. I think that old man maybe was saying, like...
I think that was his like, be careful what you do in your dreams. Yeah, definitely. Like I think he was like, don't listen to everything. Like that could have, this could be a punishment. I don't think we're supposed to ask people what time or date it is in our dreams. I think there's some. It wasn't great when I did it. Yeah, you had a horrible, terrifying experience to the point where I'd never do it. And I've never heard of it working well for, or like working out for somebody. Yeah, it was very strange. I think there are things that we are simply not aware of.
not ready to understand or not meant to understand. And like, I don't, personally, I don't think dreams are just dreams. No, I think there's something more. I think there's something to it. That we don't understand. Like, I agree that it's probably part of it, at least, is like us trying to process what we've seen throughout our day and stuff like that. For sure. But I think, and maybe it varies. Maybe there are certain dreams where your brain is processing and then...
maybe there are other dreams where you do go somewhere else that you're possibly not supposed to be the brain is so complex and there's so much that we don't understand possibly know everything about what's happening yeah so i feel like there's just when i when it's like when it's very clear that you can't know everything i'm like then there's something there's something else you know yeah i think so you know i definitely think so yeah all right broies we got one more this one's hilarious
And it's a little bit of a short one, but it says, listen to tales. Six-year-old me astral projects. Hi, weirdos. My name is Katie Blue, just like the color. I love that. Technically and legally now, Katie Blue Nebel, since I was finally married in May 2021 after canceling and replanning my wedding three times. Fuck you, COVID. Damn, I'm glad you got to finally get married. I can't imagine having to do it three times. I had to like change the date and even that was stressful enough. Yeah, no way.
Anyway, feel free to use all my names. Every one. Every single one. I found your podcast a little over a year ago and have not turned you off since. You make my workday fly by, which is fan-fucking-tastic. Hell yeah. So this is a story about the time I astral projected myself with zero knowledge or memory of the event and scared the ever-loving shit out of my older brother. Obsessed already.
I had to put it in there. Our parents are divorced, but we were still living together when this happened. Their bedroom was at the end of the hall and mine was directly across from theirs. My older brother's room was in the basement. Directly in front of my brother's room was an electric fireplace that kept the house warm during the cold Pennsylvania winters. If his bedroom door was open, you would have a clear view of said fireplace. Well, one winter night, my brother woke up around 3 a.m. to find his bedroom door open.
Tired and dazed, he thought he saw something standing in front of the glowing fireplace. After wiping the sleep from his eyes, he realized it was me. It me. It me. I was standing directly in front of his open bedroom door with my fucking head down, fully illuminated by the fire. Initially, he told me to get lost because he was trying to sleep, but I would not move. Annoyed, he repeatedly told me to knock it off and go back to bed. By now, he was yelling it. Kate, you're not funny. Get upstairs and go back to bed. Okay.
What?
What happened? It was a soul. As he ran down the hallways. I don't know. To mother. I literally don't know. And there was no intention of that ever coming out that way. So he ran. Something overtakes me.
I love it. It's scary. It really does. As he ran. As he ran so far away. As he ran down the hallway to that room. He also got a good look into my room where he found me asleep peacefully. That's fucked up.
I don't like it. Her brother doesn't either. To this day, my brother still doesn't like to talk about that night or what he saw. Like I said, I have no memory of this. I don't know if that's the only time I've astral projected or if I'm out here scaring the shit out of people with no knowledge of it. Either way, it's equal parts terrifying and cool. Keep it weird, ladies, but not so weird that you accidentally astral project yourself and scare the ever-loving shit out of your brother. I love it.
I'm like, I don't know if I'm just out here scaring the shit out of people. I love that you had no idea also. If I was your brother, I'd be like, I'm leaving.
I'm literally leaving. I'm not staying in this house with sweet Katie Blue here. Sweet Katie. Also, that name is just so sweet. Oh, yeah. Katie Blue. Katie Blue. She astral projects from room to room. Oh, that's just Katie Blue. She just astral projects sometimes. Katie Blue. She'll astral project in front of you. And you're better hold on. She'll astral project your heart. Oh.
Oh, I loved that. I love these. I need more of these. I specifically need more little town ones that you guys go to. Bring me into your little towns. I need to like, I want to just like make a full length something about that. You gotta. It's too good. It's so good. But guys, you're killing it with these. Always. You're hilarious.
And we love you. We love the shit out of you. So much. The feeling is so mutual. Sweet dreams, weirdos. Sweet dreams are made of these. Exactly. And we hope you keep listening. And we hope you keep it weird. And keep it so weird that you astral project everywhere except to me. Bye. Scare your brother, though. Yeah, definitely. She struck him with her motor vehicle. She had been under the influence and then she left him there.
In January 2022, local woman Karen Reed was implicated in the mysterious death of her boyfriend, Boston police officer John O'Keefe. It was alleged that after an innocent night out for drinks with friends, Karen and John got into a lover's quarrel en route to the next location. What happens next depends on who you ask.
Was it a crime of passion? If you believe the prosecution, it's because the evidence was so compelling. This was clearly an intentional act. And his cause of death was blunt force trauma with hypothermia. Or a corrupt police cover-up. If you believe the defense theory, however, this was all a cover-up to prevent one of their own from going down. Everyone had an opinion.
And after the 10-week trial, the jury could not come to a unanimous decision. To end in a mistrial, it's just a confirmation of just how complicated this case is. Law and Crime presents the most in-depth analysis to date of the sensational case in Karen.
You can listen to Karen exclusively with Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. I'm Dan Taberski. In 2011, something strange began to happen at the high school in Leroy, New York. I was like at my locker and she came up to me and she was like stuttering super bad. I'm like, stop f***ing around. She's like, I can't hear you.
I can't. A mystery illness, bizarre symptoms, and spreading fast. It's like doubling and tripling, and it's all these girls. With a diagnosis the state tried to keep on the down low. Everybody thought I was holding something back. Well, you were holding something back intentionally. Yeah, yeah, well, yeah.
Is this the largest mass hysteria since The Witches of Salem? Or is it something else entirely? A new limited series from Wondery and Pineapple Street Studios, Hysterical.
Follow Hysterical on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can binge all episodes of Hysterical early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus.
