Category Archives: United States

The Kindly Dwarf

A few years ago while I was living in Maine in the North East of the United States I had a dream/vision encounter with a Dwarf.

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I had come in from working at my Forge and had sat down on the couch after a shower and was thinking about the work I had done that day and all of a sudden I was in a dream, but it was very real and didn’t feel or seem like a dream at the time.

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I saw in my yard, near where the Forge was, a Dwarf with a rich royal blue cloak with a hood on.

The fabric was very sturdy, but soft looking like wool broadcloth but finer, and very saturated with color.

The cloak had a beautiful silver and black geometric border around the edges of the cloak and it was clasped with a gold or brass clasp with a different rune on each side. He had on a medium green belted tunic with brown pants underneath.

He had kind dark shining eyes like polished onyx. He smiled at me as if he knew me well and said “you are doing good work.”

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‘Dwarf’ by Darrel Bevan. http://www.facebook.com/DarrelBevan

It felt for all the world as if this Dwarf were related to me and reminded me very strongly of my paternal grandfather. I felt like I should know him.

He was obviously shorter than me but as he spoke to me it was as if we were both at eye level with me.

I’m not sure if I spoke or not or if he said anything else but I feel as if we are related somehow if that is possible.

One other event took place about a month ago where I live now in Missouri in the central U.S.

tuce-dus_-8CyBJ8-unsplash I was coming home from work after midnight one night and as I pulled into my driveway with my windows down I thought I heard voices talking in whispers on the other side of the house. 

I shut the car off rolled up the windows and opened the door. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a small crouched person coming around the car thinking it was one of the kids I looked over but saw nothing.

I heard the voices talking again but could not understand what they were saying.

The words didn’t make sense.

Thinking it was still the kids coming to scare dad I looked around the other side of the house and on the porch.annie-spratt-pQ29Y-o_wPU-unsplash

I heard the voices closer this time but saw nothing, the voices seemed to be mischievously having fun at my expense even though I couldn’t understand them, but in a playful good natured way.

I went inside and my children were all accounted for and hadn’t come outside at all.

Not sure what to make of these but that’s what happened.

John – Missouri, U.S.

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The White Light

Many thanks to Abby for sharing her incredible experience. It raises the really interesting question of how we define/categorise/label the ‘things’ we encounter. Faerie, Alien, Ghost: these are only words. Abby’s experience reminds us that no matter what name we place on them, we have much to learn about the ‘beings’ we encounter from time to time.

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When I was pregnant with my son, my boyfriend (now husband) and I were driving behind my mom and siblings. We were moving our house again from Denver to our true hometown of Durango, Colorado.

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We had a late start and had just driven over the last mountain pass to get home. It was about 1 o’clock in the morning and we were exhausted.

I was riding with Matt in order to keep him awake but we were at that point that we were trying everything to keep on the road. abby tale

After we passed the small town of Pagosa Springs, the road were dark super dark with only the stars shining down.

I don’t remember how it happened but I must have drifted off for a moment and bright white light shot through the car.

It was so powerful I could feel it move through my entire body like a jolt of energy.

I gasped awake and looked behind us but there was no passing car.

Matt looked at me and asked: “Did you see that?”.

I nodded my agreement and said: “I didn’t think you did too!”

About a minute later, my mom pulled the U-haul truck over and got out. We pulled in behind her and Matt asked if she had seen the bright light too. She said: “All I saw was you swerving. Are you sure you don’t need a break?”

So not only did Matt and I experience this together, my mom who had been in front of us the whole time did not see it!

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I’ve always believed in the Fae, but growing up in the US I never really felt close to them unless it was one of those places in Nature.

Durango has one or two places that feel “thin” as you described them and Georgia has many.

 

After living in England for a few years I realized that there are different feelings between the two countries.

The Good Folk here, feel different, more wild which might explain all of the UFO sightings that we have.

I have come to believe that “aliens” are the Fae, choosing to show themselves as science fiction depicts them and that is why they tend to show up in the Southwest where the nuclear tests happened.

Abby – U.S.

 

6 Short Tales of Encounters with the Good People

It’s true, some people, and some families, are more open to sensing and seeing The Good People. Michael shares with us 6 short tales of his experience and knowledge of The Good People. 

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One.

My aunt May from Ireland, as a little girl, was out in the woods in Ireland, and she got lost. She told me that a beautiful lady in white appeared to her. She was radiant. The lady guided her out of the woods.

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And then she was gone. Knowing about the Celtic deities, I wondered if it might be a form of one of the Celtic goddesses. But I don’t really know.

Two.

Again, my aunt May, but as an adult, was watching over my grandmother’s sister, Ana, who was on her deathbed, not expected to live. She was a gifted lady in that she was known to see the Good People, reluctantly — because she was a good Catholic.

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Well, one day, she turned to my aunt May and said, “May, would you tell the little men on my bed to go away.” My aunt May then said, “Okay, you guys, swoosh! Go on now. Be on your way.”

And she swept the bedspread with her hands. She said, “Okay, Ana, there all gone now, see.” Ana, turned to my aunt May and replied, “Oh, thank God! I feel so much better now.”

Three.

My aunts and uncles, I was told, on occasions — when they were children — they would look for the Good People. As for myself, I am like my aunt Ana. I have seen the Good People all my life, so I have had many encounters.

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Four.

When I was a little child, about 5 years old, I was at my other grandmothers sister’s house. She kept a beautiful flower garden. So many beautiful flowers. I left everyone, and went for a walk through her garden.

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Suddenly, little balls of light appeared and danced all about me and around me. I remember feeling so happy and giggling, laughing. It was an entirely magical experience.

The Good People were so interested and curious about me. It was an amazing exchange of energy between us. After a while I was being called in to the house, and the Good People retreated away. It looked like they disappeared into the woods behind the house.

Five.

When I was in the cub scouts, we went on an outing in the woods in the state park. We were all sitting around a campfire toasting marshmallows. I sensed that there were eyes in the woods watching us.

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Later, as the fire was starting to die down, it was getting late and the smoke was in my eyes. It was an almost hypnotic effect.

Then I turned, and I clearly saw a little man standing high on a big, gray rock at the head of our circle. He wore a furry shirt, like a two toned animal skin; and he had a walking stick in hand. He was laughing and dancing around on the rock. He was soooo pleased with himself, because he knew no one could see him.

But I saw him; and I felt that he knew it. After, about several minutes, he disappeared.

Six.

When I lived in Colorado, I traveled way up in the Rocky Mountains, right outside Rky. Mnt. Nat. Pk., where I spent the night in a motel. I was relaxing, reading a book, when little beings of light came in and fluttered about my bed.

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They were very curious. I said, “Hello, welcome.” I think they were curious about the meditations I had been doing. They stayed for a little while, until their curiosity was completely satisfied. Then they left.

In the morning, before I left, I left some of my food, with some water, by the side of the front door for the Good People.

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Well, that is some of my stories. I hope you enjoyed them. I enjoyed sharing them. I don’t always get the chance to share these stories. Thank you for asking me to share them.

Michael.

Banshee in Arkansas

I had a Banshee encounter 6 years ago.

Grammy Pat and Papa Joe were the Godparents of my grandchildren. They were friends that were as close as blood. We had moved into Grammy Pat and Papa Joe’s house because we had lost our house to a flood and they were moving to Oklahoma.

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I like to sit on the porch early in the morning, especially in the fall and drink my coffee with my dog, Tala. This particular morning it was almost Dawn and the light was soft and pink.

We began to hear someone walking through the woods. Then it sounded like a woman wailing and moaning like she was in terrible pain. The sound was coming closer through the woods.

Tala started whining and pacing. Then she headed over to the door, frantically scratching at it to get in. I walked over and let her in.

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I stayed because I thought it was a vixen moving through the woods and I might get to see it. When I finally saw it, it white and humanish.

I freaked out because the word Banshee went through my mind. I ran in the house. My husband and son thought I had lost my mind. My husband said the noise was just a vixen.

I knew better.

I had seen it. Grammy Pat was killed in a head on car accident three days later.

And yes, both of our families have Irish and Scottish blood.

I swear that this a true story.

Carolyn

The Banshee Visits

A truly compelling account of a visit from Banshee to an Irish family in the United States. I find the reaction of Eileen’s Grandfather to be particularly poignant. The old folk know. No bells and whistles, they just know. – Kitty.

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Imagine being all of five and living a world away from Ireland when you have an encounter with the Banshee.

Imagine being told by your Grandfather that it was pointless to tell anyone, since in the United States no one respected the old ways or recognized them anymore.

I remember it clearly.

My Aunt was suffering from breast cancer, a young thirty-nine, with my Mom, who was a nurse, caring for her. My Grandfather, their father, was living with us at the time. For some reason he and I were at our house when Mom and Dad were at my Aunt’s. I suspect it’s because nobody expected my aunt to die so suddenly.

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The other kids were out in the street playing ball in the hot summer sun, but Grandpa and I were together in the shadowy house. I don’t know what I was doing. Drawing, I think, on the chipped and scarred coffee table that had been roundly abused by the seven kids in the house.

It was really quiet. I do remember that, and my Grandpa was sitting in my dad’s comfortable chair doing a crossword puzzle in the daily paper. We’d been listening to the shrill voices of siblings and neighborhood kids all morning, but it seemed that they’d moved farther down the street, because I remember a hushed kind of silence.

Suddenly I heard a sound I still can’t describe; a keening, yes, but the most beautiful, hair-lifting cry I think I’ll ever hear.

Outside, up, as if it hovered high over the front porch. fold newspaper

I looked up.

My Grandpa froze where he sat.

Slowly he set down his newspaper and rose, pausing, as if by dragging his feet he could prevent the inevitable.

Then he walked to the front window and pulled the curtains aside.

The keening came again, like a high wind or one of the old ladies who showed up at the family funerals, except indescribably more beautiful and haunting.

I sat where I was, suddenly unsure what to do. My Grandpa knew. He looked out, looked up, as if something hovered in the bright white sky.

“She’s gone,” he said, and there were tears in his voice.

Quietly he let the curtains fall back into place, and for a while just stood there, his head down.

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“What was that, Grandpa?” I asked.

He shook his head, never looking for me.

“It was the Banshee.”

He walked back to his chair and sat down.

He picked the paper up that he’d carefully folded to exhibit the crossword puzzle, but he didn’t look at it. He just held it.

I looked out toward where the voice had come from. I knew what banshees were. I’d just seen ‘Darby O’Gill and the Little People’ not long before, and the Banshee in the movie was a terrifying swirl of flowing black robes and hair. Her voice, though, had been terrifying.

This hadn’t terrified me. Even so, I didn’t have to courage to get up and walk to the window to look out. I just went back to coloring.

Just then my Mom called. My Aunt had just died. My Mother didn’t seem surprised that my Grandpa already knew.

I never asked my Mother about what I heard. I didn’t tell anybody until only about ten years ago when I finally discovered the Irish part of our family who had been able to stay in Ireland.

“Of course,” my cousin said when I told her. “The Banshee follows our clan.”

I’ve never heard her again.

 Eileen – United States.

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Dream of an Irish Death

Last year, I had a dream and I remember it so well it might as well have been just last night. In fact I will never forget it.

So, I was walking through a creepy cemetery on a path of small, crunchy stones. The path was winding and there were headstones everywhere on either side of me. And they were in no order, just seemingly random.

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It was quite dark when I reached the end of the path, and there stood a shiny new headstone with a fresh pile of earth piled high and covered in flowers.

I looked at the headstone and it read:

‘Patricia Kelly.

Born April 1958 – Died Dec 2018.

Cavan, Ireland.

Gone too soon.’

I suddenly realized a woman was standing next to me. She wore all black, a long flowing heavy gown and a black veil over her face.

I looked at her face and found it was her, my aunt, Pat Kelly. Her face was sallow but she was smiling. I woke with a start and got up to get some water and found my Mother sitting at the kitchen bar crying. She just got word that her sister (my aunt) Patricia Kelly had died in a car accident near her home in Cavan.

I don’t know if this is strictly related to the Good People but once I got past the shock of it, I felt the dream had been a message. Aunt Pat was always a great believer in the Good People.

Jessica – Washington D.C.

An Attempted Abduction?

It was late in the afternoon in a small town in the Cascadian Mountain range in 2010.

I suddenly had a strong whim to go to a park I’ve only passed by once. In that small, safe town, following my whims often lead me to some beautiful places and was a fun way to occupy my time.

This whim was very strong though, I felt like someone was waiting for me. Honestly, I thought it was my professor– and my encounter would help my studies. It was freezing out and a mile and a half walk away.

But– why not! I put on my boots and coat and head out. It was a new moon that night– but I forgot to bring a flashlight. In that rural town– it would be blinding-dark on a night of a new-moon. I cursed this mistake 20 minutes into my walk.

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I get there while the sun was still pretty well up in the sky and I’m drawn to this tree. I don’t understand it, but I go with it. So I wait by the tree– and out from in the top of this tree appears this black cat.

It jumps down and sits in front of me very regally. It meows as if it’s conversing with me and then runs off down a deer path in the park . It comes back up. Sits regally. Meows very demanding-like and…

… runs down the path. This repeats 4 times until I decide “ok I’m following this cat!” and I follow this cat down this path which was unusually nice but obviously not-officially maintained by the town.

The cat and I both hopped stones over the river and up quite a ways— I’m getting quite nervous at this point! It’s going to be very dark soon! Finally- we arrive in this door way that was built into the mountain.

Like a tiny 3-foot stone entry way into the mountain with a lovely wooden door hinged upon it. There was a small sliver of one of the door’s boards missing from the bottom and the cat jumped thru it- jumped out, jumped in, jumped out. It meowed- it wanted me to go inside.

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The sun was setting— the rocks over the river– and now into this dark doorway without a flash light?

Cat, I’m sorry I’ll come back tomorrow” I told the cat- honestly quite scared.

The whole thing is over-worldly and my guts and bones are telling me to not open that door.

I turned my back and the cat meowed and meowed and meowed at me. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning!!” I promised the cat. I used the last few inches of the light in the sky to see my way back to the maintained path that had lights in the park.

I was overwhelmed— I went home and couldn’t relax. I woke up before sunrise unable to rest and as soon as dawn broke I made my way back to the park– down the deer path, over the river– and there I kid you freaking not:

The entire doorway was succumbed to dead thorns.

The door that was previous properly hinged was on the floor by the sheer strength of these dead thorns. The ENTIRE door way was chalked full of these dead thorns, and it grew out out of the door-way and even surpassed the door. Also the door wasn’t all cute and lovely anymore and it looked like it had laid there for a several years.

I cannot explain this logically for the life of me. The strength of a plant to knock a door off it’s hinges wouldn’t have even been able to die in a mere night.

I previously thought I missed out on an Alice in Wonderland kinda experience but now I’m curious if I was almost adult-napped by fairies.

Skuttle Star – U.S.A

Illustration
 

Illustration by Skuttle Star.