Scary reincarnation stories and sppoky tales of people who may have lived before.
My Other Mommy
At a family dinner, my grandmother told me about something strange that happened when I was 4 or 5 years old. My grandmother lived in South Carolina and had come to visit us for a few weeks. She was babysitting me and we were playing in my room. She hadn’t seen me for a while and she wanted to make conversation.
According to my grandmother, she asked me how I liked living there and I told her I liked it a lot.
“Do you love your mommy,” she asked.
“I love her a lot better than my other mommy,” I replied.
My grandmother wondered what I was talking about and asked, “What other mommy?”
I told her, “A long time ago, I was living with Daddy and my other mommy. Mommy got really angry and Daddy tried to protect me. We both died and went to the other place. Then the people there told me I deserved a better mommy, and they sent me back here.”
Apparently, everyone else at the table remembered the event. Our family is Catholic, so it was a bit of a taboo subject. My grandfather tried to dismiss it, saying, “It was just the babbling of a 5-year old child.” Maybe, but sometimes I still wonder…
When I was a little kid, my mom liked to go shopping at antique stores. One time, she took me to a shop and I saw an old doll standing in a glass case. I told her that the doll was mine, from when I lived before. She told me that was nonsense. I insisted that the doll was mine and her name was Dolores. She the store owner to remove the doll from the case. It was the kind of doll where the head, neck and a small portion of the chest and back were wooden and the body was cloth. As she was looking at the doll, she noticed a carving on the back of the doll’s neck. It read, “Dolores”. My mom got freaked out and wouldn’t buy the doll. We left instead and all the way home, I complained that she didn’t get me my doll.
When I was younger, I had a recurring dream in which I was in a car crash. I could see distinct details about the scene, like the surroundings, a gas station and a McDonalds nearby. The car we were driving was blue and I was in the passenger seat. There were 2 other people in the car with me wh seemed familar, but I didn’t recognize them. I could see the face of the driver but not the person sitting on the back seat. Every time I had the dream, a big black truck would come out of the gas station and ram into the side of the car and I would wake up. After having the same dream a couple of times, I decided to tell my mom about it. She told me not to worry. After all, it was just a dream. One night, when we were staying in my uncle’s house, I had the dream again and I woke up screaming. He told me to tell him about the dream. As I was recounting the events, his face slowly turned pale. I’ll never forget what he told me next. Apparently, some years back, my uncle had witnessed the exact same accident and he tried to help the victims. They were badly injured, but the only one who had died that day was the person sitting in the passenger seat. It shocked him so much that he remembered the exact date it happened. It was about 9 months before I was born. After that, I never had the dream again.
San Francisco Earthquake
My dad grew up in San Francisco and my grandma had some creepy experiences with him when he was a kid. She told me he had some imaginary friends that would come to visit him in his sleep. He told my grandma that whenever he lay down to go to sleep, he would climb out of his body and there would be a bunch of kids in his room he would play with them. My grandma assumed it was just his imagination and she asked him what his friends’ names were. He told her all their names and even described the clothes they wore. She happened to be reading a book about that Great San Francisco earthquake in the 1900s and she recognized the names of his imaginary friends. They were the names of children who had died in the earthquake. Then, she realized my dad had been born on the anniversary of the earthquake. It creeped her out because she believed he was just playing with his old friends because he had been one of those kids in his past life.
Mary and Mary
My name is Mary. I was named after my grandmother. She died before I was born. My mom told me that, one day, when I was 3 years old, I was sitting at the dinner table, humming to myself. All of a sudden, I stopped, turned to my mom and said, “You know, I used to be your mom.”
My mother wasn’t paying much attention and just responded, “Oh really?”
“Yes, I was Mary then too,” I continued. “I took care of you and then I died and now it’s your turn to take care of me.”
When she heard that, my mother dropped what she was doing and stared at me, but I just continued humming as if nothing had happened. Kids say the creepiest things.