This is my post from R/paranormalencounters
Im relatively new to reddit, but i wanted to share this story, and hadnt really thought of it before.
When I was young, I was a very awkward kid. I had a lot of difficulty making and keeping friends. I spent most of my time hiking outside of my hometown in the Angeles national forest. I lived with my grandmother in the town of Wrightwood. I would spend most of my nights out camping, claiming to be going on small trips with my boy scout troop, when in reality I would just take my backpacking tent and find a nice secluded canyon to sleep in.
Whenever I would sleep in the canyon, I would have strange but comforting dreams, where my childhood dog, Shelby Lynn, would come find me in the woods, huddle up in my sleeping bag to stay warm, and I would talk to her throughout the night about my woes and my accomplishments.
It always felt surreal when I woke up and she wasn't there, so I tried to go back as often as possible just so I could see her again. All the way up until I turned 16. I stopped coming to the mountains as often because I was spending a lot of time with my girlfriend down in the high desert.
One day, about a year into our relationship, I decided to take her hiking up one of my favorite canyons. About halfway up the canyon, she slipped and badly twisted her ankle. It was swollen to the size of a grapefruit. I asked her to let me carry her back down, or to let me tear a piece off my shirt to use as a sling, but she refused, so we continued down. About 10 minutes into our hike down, she said she saw something. I asked her what it was and she said she didn't know, just movement in her peripherals. Then about 5 seconds later, something scared her so badly she almost fell again.
I took her back home and we treated her ankle with a sling and a compression wrap. To this day she still refuses to acknowledge what happened, and I think perhaps that's for the best. When I was 17, we eventually broke up. Her mother had gotten into an accident drinking and driving, and she was forced to move in with her grandparents. We couldn't keep up the long distance relationship.
I continued going to the mountains for 2 more relationships, and 2 more years, but I never brought somebody to the mountains with me during that time. I simply spent half my free time with my boyfriend/girlfriend, and the other half in the mountains, dreaming of my childhood dog in bliss.
When I was 19, I met a girl who really understood me as a person. Foolishly, I thought that meant she might understand what was happening to me in those mountains. I told her all about my dreams, and all about what happened to my first ex. She wanted to try to see for herself. We left at about 8pm, and arrived at the base of my favorite canyon at about 9pm.
My then girlfriend and I went hiking up with flashlights and some camping gear, hoping to spend the night. We spent a good 20 minutes setting up a site where I cleared all the flammables in a 5 foot radius and started cooking in my jet boil. We had some dinner, although I can't remember what we ate. I think it was just uncle Ben's rice and some bread. Then we decided to walk around some more.
About 20 minutes into this hike, she stopped dead in her tracks. She had seen something moving just like my first ex. She looked at me and asked me if I saw it too. I hadn't. Then she took another look, and let out a small whisper of a scream. She grabbed me and asked me to take her back to our camp so we could leave.
Later, she described to me a scraggly, dark, long haired dog, that looked to be about as tall as her (5'3) and covered in mange and forest debris. She told me it grinned at her, and that it's mouth looked almost human. She begged me to never go back there again. She told me whatever was up there wasn't a friend, and that I should never have let it into my life in the first place.
I believed her at the time, but now, 5 years out of that forest, and 1 year out of our rocky relationship, I miss the forest more than anything else. I miss my dreams, and I miss the feeling of ease and bliss I got from being there. I want almost more than anything to go back there and spend a night, just to feel like that again. Safe, comfortable, and carefree. Should I go back? Maybe just for one night, or was she right? Is there something here that's dangerous? And if so why has it never seemed dangerous to me? Why do I feel safest when I'm there?
submitted by /u/nockthedude
[link] [comments]This is my post from R/paranormalencounters Im relatively new to reddit, but i wanted to share this story, and hadnt really thought of it before. When I was young, I was a very awkward kid. I had a lot of difficulty making and keeping friends. I spent most of my time hiking outside of my hometown in the Angeles national forest. I lived with my grandmother in the town of Wrightwood. I would spend most of my nights out camping, claiming to be going on small trips with my boy scout troop, when in reality I would just take my backpacking tent and find a nice secluded canyon to sleep in. Whenever I would sleep in the canyon, I would have strange but comforting dreams, where my childhood dog, Shelby Lynn, would come find me in the woods, huddle up in my sleeping bag to stay warm, and I would talk to her throughout the night about my woes and my accomplishments. It always felt surreal when I woke up and she wasn't there, so I tried to go back as often as possible just so I could see her again. All the way up until I turned 16. I stopped coming to the mountains as often because I was spending a lot of time with my girlfriend down in the high desert. One day, about a year into our relationship, I decided to take her hiking up one of my favorite canyons. About halfway up the canyon, she slipped and badly twisted her ankle. It was swollen to the size of a grapefruit. I asked her to let me carry her back down, or to let me tear a piece off my shirt to use as a sling, but she refused, so we continued down. About 10 minutes into our hike down, she said she saw something. I asked her what it was and she said she didn't know, just movement in her peripherals. Then about 5 seconds later, something scared her so badly she almost fell again. I took her back home and we treated her ankle with a sling and a compression wrap. To this day she still refuses to acknowledge what happened, and I think perhaps that's for the best. When I was 17, we eventually broke up. Her mother had gotten into an accident drinking and driving, and she was forced to move in with her grandparents. We couldn't keep up the long distance relationship. I continued going to the mountains for 2 more relationships, and 2 more years, but I never brought somebody to the mountains with me during that time. I simply spent half my free time with my boyfriend/girlfriend, and the other half in the mountains, dreaming of my childhood dog in bliss. When I was 19, I met a girl who really understood me as a person. Foolishly, I thought that meant she might understand what was happening to me in those mountains. I told her all about my dreams, and all about what happened to my first ex. She wanted to try to see for herself. We left at about 8pm, and arrived at the base of my favorite canyon at about 9pm. My then girlfriend and I went hiking up with flashlights and some camping gear, hoping to spend the night. We spent a good 20 minutes setting up a site where I cleared all the flammables in a 5 foot radius and started cooking in my jet boil. We had some dinner, although I can't remember what we ate. I think it was just uncle Ben's rice and some bread. Then we decided to walk around some more. About 20 minutes into this hike, she stopped dead in her tracks. She had seen something moving just like my first ex. She looked at me and asked me if I saw it too. I hadn't. Then she took another look, and let out a small whisper of a scream. She grabbed me and asked me to take her back to our camp so we could leave. Later, she described to me a scraggly, dark, long haired dog, that looked to be about as tall as her (5'3) and covered in mange and forest debris. She told me it grinned at her, and that it's mouth looked almost human. She begged me to never go back there again. She told me whatever was up there wasn't a friend, and that I should never have let it into my life in the first place. I believed her at the time, but now, 5 years out of that forest, and 1 year out of our rocky relationship, I miss the forest more than anything else. I miss my dreams, and I miss the feeling of ease and bliss I got from being there. I want almost more than anything to go back there and spend a night, just to feel like that again. Safe, comfortable, and carefree. Should I go back? Maybe just for one night, or was she right? Is there something here that's dangerous? And if so why has it never seemed dangerous to me? Why do I feel safest when I'm there? submitted by /u/nockthedude [link] [comments]
