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Confession by Keith
The old Police Academy has a lot of ghost stories. Anyone doing NS would have heard of one urban legend or another. I served my NS in the police force. This was in the year 2000. The building was sibei (very) old. Three stories high with communal toilets on each floor. My buddy, X, was sensitive and could actually see ghosts. As early as the first day of in-camp he had his cupboard filled with a Bible, talisman, holy water, etc. I would joke that being his buddy was the safest because if any ghost were to come, he would have an answer to deal with anything. Yet he still got possessed. This was during the second week of our stay. Throughout the first week, X was unable to sleep well. He complained that something was trying to enter his body. I didn’t think anything of it. My first thought was that he was trying to Chao Geng (skive). One night he woke me up and complained he felt very hot and needed to shower. I said, “Bro, it's so late already just go to sleep lah.” X left the bunk on his own. After that I couldn’t get back to sleep and felt a bit like a dick, so I went to the toilet to check on him. In the force, we were always told to go in pairs, look out for each other. There was an unspoken understanding for some that if one person needed to pee at night, the buddy would go with him. So lan lan. I didn’t want to be the asshole. The stall water was running. I could hear voices but couldn't make out the words. They were a bit muffled. For some reason I became wide awake. Alarm bells were going off in my head and this unsettled feeling came suddenly. I crept up to the stall calling his name. For the first time in my life I felt real fear. You know we used to write in composition that “my blood ran cold in my veins?” I felt that. X was standing with his face to the wall so I could only see his back. He was fully clothed and soaking wet. I reached in to turn him towards me and that was when I noticed X features were slightly altered. He spoke to me in another voice… and in Mandarin! My Chinese was not all that good and even conversational Chinese is a stretch. However X, an Indian, was speaking a whole string of chinese to me. I kept on repeating, “Eh fuck lah, stop it. Not funny.” Then X stopped talking and smiled. His eyes showed only the whites. Through the smile, I heard, what I believe was X voice calling from somewhere inside this body - Help. Fuck. I left X there and bolted. I woke the whole squad up. When we got to the toilet, X was in a squatting position, crying in a girly sobbing way. The Malays in the squad recited their verses. Others just stared blankly. Back then phones got no cameras, otherwise this one confirm would go viral. Luckily I had the cow sense to go to his locker to grab his religious items. As buddies, we both knew where each other hid our keys to our cupboard. I hung the crucifix around his neck, placed the Bible against his chest, and doused him with the bottle of holy water. It seemed to work because X calmed down and went into a deep sleep. We carried him back to his bed and he slept throughout. At some point I was wondering if he would wake up. I don’t know if any of us managed to sleep that night but nobody wanted to talk about it. We just went back to our respective beds and we waited for the first row call which was going to happen in a matter of hours anyway. That morning, thankfully X woke up. He woke with a high fever so he was sent off to the medical centre and got warded for three days. When we finally got back to training the following week, he told me what he had experienced. He said that for many nights already there was a spirit of a woman who came to him for help. He tried to ignore her but she was very persistent. He finally relented and asked her what she needed, she said that she needed a place to rest. So X replied, "then go rest lah". That was when the spirit managed to enter his body through his mouth and nose as if he had inhaled her. Everything after that was a blank. He just knew he felt very hot and needed to douse himself in water. But things were on autopilot and the memories were very fuzzy. Apparently after that incident, X topped up his cupboard with more religious paraphernalia. Though from time to time he would say he could see spirits approaching, there were no other major incidents like the one I witnessed right before my eyes. New Police Academy in Chua Chu Kang. The story is that the cupboard is not to be closed. If you close the cupboard doors, the cupboard will shake at night. There's an old coin welded to the drawer. Not pasted, not left behind but welded. Yeah. So that's why you can't really close the cupboard. The cupboard doesn't close properly a. We tried a few times. When the cupboard is closed, at night it will shake, with banging sounds coming from the inside. If I leave it open, it’s fine.
[Eugene] Could it be a rat or something? No rat, but a giant millipede. But I don't’ think the millipede can bang on the cupboard. - This is a famous story making its round as an urban legend. Many boys serving national service would have heard it, but we finally found the person who first experienced it when serving in the Police Academy, intake 115. This is his confession. - Eugene Tay Late one night after a hard day of physical training (PT) exercises and drill training, I was damn shagged and knocked out early. Midway through my sleep I was awakened with someone gently nudging me. “Bro, can follow me to the toilet?” In my sleepy stupor and barely able to see, I said ok and climbed off the top bunk to follow my buddy to the toilet. He walked in front of me and I just followed, weary eyed, still half asleep - you know that state where everything is a blur and you can’t really focus or see properly. We were at Bravo Company (coy), which was the building just between the mass canteen and Alpha coy (or OCT barracks), in front of the basketball courts. Behind the coy, where we hung all of our laundry, was a forest with a cluster of banana trees. The toilet is on a half level down, between first and second floor. I followed him and reached the toilet. He went into the cubicle stall to take a shit while I went to the urinal. I didn’t really have to pee, but since I was there, might as well. Now, I’ve always been a bit afraid of camp toilets as I’ve read stories and listened to many horror tales. As far as possible, I avoid looking at the mirror and the ceilings, for fear of spotting something in the reflection or looking down at me. I don’t have the special third eye, but who knows.. better to not see. “Damn shag leh today, the drills and PT was damn tiring”, my buddy said from the stall. “Ya, tomorrow morning will be worse. IPPT coming up so confirm will kena from FI”, I replied, still peeing. “Yeah, but luckily I got lesson in the afternoon so can relax a bit”, my buddy added. He could only be heard since the door was closed. I finished peeing and went to wash my hands. “Eh, faster leh, I wanna sleep!”, I chased. "Wait la, stomachache”, he explained. So I waited, still trying my best to avoid looking at the mirror and the ceiling. My mind was filling fast with ‘what if’ scenarios, and I was getting a little paranoid at what I might “accidentally” see if I’m unluckily. “Quick leh”, I chased again. No reply. He must be concentrating. So, I went to the next stall and climbed on the toilet bowl to peep over the connecting wall. There was no one. Absolutely no one. I climbed back down and went back to the sinks. Trying to keep calm and not reveal that I KNEW no one was in the stall, I said, “Eh, I go back first la, damn shag. I wanna sleep liao.” And began to slowly make my way towards the door. ‘He’ replied. The voice still coming from inside the cubicle, “You sure you really tired and wanna go back? Or you know who I am now?” My skin crawled and goose bumps ran all over my body.... Confession by WQ
I was stationed at Tanglin HQ. Tanglin HQ isn’t anywhere near Tanglin Road but opposite KK Women and Children's Hospital. Back then there was this huge car park behind the station where Halifax road was. Today if you go there, you will see major construction going on. Tanglin station has many stories but since I never actually encountered any myself, I can only regard them as hearsay. One of the urban legends that made its rounds is that there is a pontianak haunting the car park beside the station. The car park was a popular haunt for couples to make out. It’s isolated and quite dark. There’s only the police station, a row of old colonial houses, and the central expressway running past. The story goes that couples who park in that car park for some hanky panky time will be visited by an old lady staring at them from outside the window. Based on their description, it was an old lady with rotten teeth. I think what I encountered inside the station might be the same entity. This one is very interesting. So I was on prowling duty at night around 04:00. A.m. The prowling is hourly and we take turns. We have to actually go up and down the building, and all the checkpoints to teet with our checker device. Level four is the library, one of the spots that… is the most interesting. You will need to walk right to the end by the glass panel which is the entrance into the library, and on the left is a wall. This area is very dimly lit. Many people have reported this place to be quite keras (supernaturally active). The spot to teet was all the way at the end of the corridor. As I was walking back out, suddenly my left side didn't feel so good. After the library is an office with a small glass window and a door. From the corner of my eyes I looked inside the office and saw an old macik (elderly malay lady). I panicked and ran to the lift. The lift came but wouldn’t go down. The door would close, and then open on its own again. I kept pressing on the buttons to close the door and to go to level one but the door just kept opening up. So I closed my eyes and started praying. Now the whole lift started smelling of something sweet. Thankfully, after I was not sure how long, the smell went away and the lift started moving down. After that encounter, I was sick for weeks. Confession by Min
This confession is about my sister who has since cut ties with the family. My sister lost her husband about five years ago; they have been married for twenty over years. Their eldest daughter is already twenty two, so I think their marriage lasted about twenty five, twenty six years. We didn’t think there was anything unusual about his passing. He died at a relatively young age of 47. Heart failure. He loved my sister very much and my sister loved him too. Their marriage was very smooth, besides the occasional worries about financial matters, he was solid husband material. Weekends were for the family. On weekdays he worked shifts at the shipyard. If he was doing anything on the side, none of us had any clue. He was always polite and respectful to my parents. We all loved him. But I think there should be a limit to love. My sister was of course distraught after his passing and would pine for him. Initially we didn’t take her comments too seriously when she said that ‘Abang’ - her husband - came to visit her at night. We thought it was just part of the grieving process, but this went on for many months. Everything else about her seemed fine, just that she was insistent her husband would visit her every night and they would make love. She described him as being “more powerful” but gentle. Sometimes she would even get into graphical details which left all of us very uncomfortable. My sister never spoke this way before. She even started removing her hijab and strayed away from God. Of course, we were worried about her mental health. I even told her that if she had met someone new and wanted to explore a new relationship, I was sure her children and the family would understand and support it, but how she was behaving was not proper. We told her to pray and return closer to God, but she got really furious and told us to mind our own business. For the most part, since she was on the whole managing and living well, we left her to her own. It was only about a year plus later when her daughter let slip that her mum - my sister - had been pregnant thrice and each ended in a miscarriage during the end of second trimester, that the family started a full blown intervention. Through a family friend, we managed to call upon the help of an Ustadz. That’s when it was confirmed that my sister’s sighting of her dead husband was not psychological. There was indeed a spiritual manifestation of an entity that was present. However the Ustadz said that it was not her husband; this entity was in fact created or summoned by a Dukun who her husband had approached for blessings and spiritual help. Through the proxy of this entity taking on the appearance of my sister’s ex-husband, the Dukun had astral traveled to my sister to perform the role of her husband. When asked about the miscarriage, the Ustadz told us that this entity doing the Dukun’s bidding required payment, and that payment came at the price of a human life force. Any cleansing to be done would require my sister’s cooperation but each attempt to visit her or to bring her over to my parents’ place was met with violent aggression. Eventually we just relented and let her continue to live her life. All things considered, my sister is eating well, living well, and living a “normal” life. We are worried about her, but right now it’s out of our hands. We can only pray for her and may God forgive her. We believe she’s innocent, naive even, and that’s why she’s easily manipulated. It’s all in God’s hands now. Confession by Sol
In Malay Folklore, we believe that when you do a lot of evil in your life, your body will not be buried in peace and that’s when you come back as a pocong. I was a young boy then, living in the Siglap area. There’s this one incident that became the talk of the town for years. A Malay man had passed away and by tradition they were supposed to wash his body, wrap him up in a burial shroud and bury him within the same day. But for some reason, they encountered one problem after another. At first the shroud tore, and they had to conduct the prayers and the wrapping all over again. Then as the adults were carrying the body to the graveyard, it slid off the carrying board and fell to the ground. To make matters worse, when they got to the cemetery, it started to rain heavily. The cemetery was flooded, which meant the grave was flooded, and it made shoveling soil into the grave that much harder. They did the best they could and left. Next morning when they came to check the grave, the soil had been washed away and the body was exposed. What was strange was that the body, which was positioned on its right to face Mecca, now appears to have been moved to face left and away. Since that incident people would claim to have seen a pocong. In fact, as kids, we were all made to come home before dusk. Night games and meetups were on hold indefinitely. Rumour has it that this man got a girl from another kampong impregnated and refused to marry her. When forced into a marriage, he went to seek help from a bomoh to cast a spell on her to get her to have a miscarriage. Without the baby, there was no impetus to marry her. He thought his troubles were over. But the next day, the girl hung herself. Confession by Sara
After I graduated from Uni and while waiting to find a job, I joined my friend, M, as a part time model. She was a few years older than me and had been successful in her modeling career. She had rented a condo in Petaling Jaya and invited me over to visit or stay, or to use the facilities. I had always known her to be a generous friend. She shared the unit with two other girls, both from the same modeling agency, but mostly we kept to ourselves in our own rooms and if we did bump into each other, there would be the usual idle small chat. Everything was going very well until one day M just fell down, and couldn’t pick herself up. She was diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy. It was supposed to be a genetic disease but somehow she got it when there was no prior history of anyone in her family having it. The doctors couldn’t do anything. Her condition was so bad, she had to be in a wheelchair. She moved back to her parents place, and the once confident, bubbly girl I knew became sullen and a recluse. The next time I visited her, it was about half a year later. She’s still wheelchair bound but her stomach has bloated to the size of a bowling ball. She looked like she was carrying a baby to full term. The once beautiful woman I know is now totally unrecognizable. She said three months ago they discovered she had some gastrointestinal disorder. So far nothing seemed to help reduce the symptoms. At this point I felt something wasn’t quite right. My uncle - my mother’s older brother - is a practicing healer and I secretly went behind my friend’s back to check if it was indeed black magic. If it was, we could then decide how to take it forward. If it wasn’t, I would keep quiet and not make a fool of myself. I showed my uncle her photo from my phone and gave him her birthdate. It turned out that black magic had been used on M. I was prepared for M to reject the notion of black magic but when I brought the news to her and proposed to get my uncle to cleanse for her, she readily agreed. Over the weekend, my uncle came to visit M. First thing he said was that there was a spirit of an old woman standing outside the house looking in. After he described how she looked, M confirmed she had nightmares of a woman fitting that description coming into her bedroom at night and “eating her body parts”. When asked what M meant by that, she said that she would be in a state of sleep paralysis, and this old woman would emerge from the shadows from the corner of the bedroom, stand by her bed, and dig her fingers into M’s body, pull out her entrails to feed on, or gnaw on her legs. My uncle did some prayer and prepared a drink for her. He said that some time between tonight and three days from now, my friend will dream of a face. That is the person who had cast a spell on her. Three days later, my friend called me and said she saw the face and it was that of her house mate in the unit she had rented. With that information, my uncle said he would handle it. He gave her some cloth pouch to keep on her at all times, and more of the blessed liquid to drink. . A week later, we heard through our common friends - ok lah, actually I was kaypoh and went to ask around - that the housemate had an accident and broke her leg. Soon after that my friend started to recover. It wasn’t overnight though, it took her almost 10 years to fully recover. Confession by Karl
As my parents got on in age, I moved back to Singapore to be closer to them. My dad is suffering from diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol. My mum tries to make him eat right, but dad is a stubborn man who loves his drinks and sio bak. My younger sister is already married, with two kids, so it is up to me to take care of my parents. My family isn't very rich, but my dad had worked very hard during those years as a taxi driver and paid for my university fees. I stayed on in Perth after graduating and worked there for most of my adult life. My sister stayed with them till she moved out in her late 20s. I feel obligated and responsible to take over the duties now. So, the first thing I did was to find a resale flat near my folks. As it turned out, there was an empty unit opposite my parent’s flat. It's been vacant for years. I couldn’t believe my luck. The location was perfect. From my parents living room, it’s in direct line of sight to the other unit. I took it that the universe was reserving this unit for me; it didn’t occur to me then why no one wanted to buy or rent that unit. I had to find out for myself. I got in touch with the agent who was surprised I enquired specifically about the unit, and even more surprised that I was keen to close the purchase. But she told me to slow down first and go take a look at the place. So I met her the next day and we went down to look at the place. The interior deco was very dated. Marble flooring and yellowed cornice. I was already thinking how much hacking I would have to do and the cost involved, but still, the location is really hard to give up on. The agent was less enthusiastic about the sale than I was, but we eventually closed the deal anyway. I asked belatedly about the previous owner and why they didn’t try to sell the place. The agent told me this unit had switched hands many times. The last owners, a retired couple, moved over to JB to live. They put the unit out for rent, but it’s probably due to the lack of amenities or a nearby MRT that made this place unattractive for rental tenants. It sounded very logical so I bought that. After doing the necessary paperwork for purchase, and about a month of renovation work, I was finally ready to move my belongings into my new home. The next day when I got to the house, the place smelled rank and musky, but I couldn’t find the source. I blamed it on the old piping and probably the cheap paint the contract used to save cost. My night lamp was no longer on my side table; it was now lying in a heap of broken pieces in the other end of the room. The fresh coat of white paint had turned yellow, and stains were starting to show through some of the places. The contract had hell from me that day. That night when I was sleeping, I dreamed of an old man standing at the doorway of my room. He stood there screaming; his jaws unnaturally elongated. In my dream I kept asking it to get out, but the more I yelled at it the angrier it got. That’s all there is to that dream. I don’t remember head or tail, just this part of the dream, but every night after that day, I had the same dream, but each time it got closer and closer. Eventually by the end of the second week, I would wake in my dream to find the old man standing over me, strangling me. Despite my best efforts, the paint wasn’t sticking to the wall. Patches of yellow would seep right through. I had used a primer, I had two layers of undercoat, nothing worked. My initial excitement was replaced by annoyance, I bumped into my next door neighbor in the lift on my way home one evening and we got to chatting. Boon had been staying there for over thirty years. “How’s the house?” Boon asked. “That’s the first thing everyone asks when they see me?” I replied. “Just now I was at the mamak shop downstairs, and the shopkeeper asked me the same question.” Boon went on to tell me about the rumors he had heard about the place from previous owners and he was curious to know if they were true. I asked him what rumors were they and he said that there’s the spirit of the previous owner, many years ago that wouldn’t leave the place. In fact, sometimes you can even smell the stale cigarette smell when he’s around. Then it all started to click. The dreams, the smell. Fuck lah, my house was haunted. Through a common friend, I managed to invite a Buddhist shifu to help me cleanse the place. He didn’t come alone, he had a handful of assistants to help with the preparations and chanting of mantras. The candle flames kept going off despite the widows being all closed and the room was stuffy as hell. And I saw this with my own eyes ok, the food offering were scattered and the packet drink burst open. Seriously, I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me, but this one happened right before my eyes. The shifu said that the spirit had rejected the offerings. No shit, Sherlock. The shifu said it was enough for the day and he would come back again the following day. That night I stayed at my parents place, and from there, I saw my room light turning on by itself, and then turned off again. This kept on going at different intervals till about 1am. After a few more sessions, the shifu said that he managed to negotiate a “peace treaty” with the spirit of the home. I’m advised to play mantra throughout the day when I’m not at home and to gift the spirit with compassion and merits. Seeing not much of a choice, I did as the shifu advised. Eventually the haunting got less and less, until about year later, I had one final dream of the old man. This time there was no angry yelling. He just smiled at me and patted me on my chest. I knew then that his spirit had moved on, and a part of me was sad. We had been housemates for over a year, but I’m also glad that he’s no longer stuck. That weekend my unit number came out first prize. But unfortunately, I didn’t buy the number. Confession by Baby
My husband and I got our BTO flat in Punggol in 2018. We tried three other times before and didn’t get it, but the fourth time our queue number was really low, under a hundred, so pretty much we could get any unit we wanted. So my hubby and I chose the second highest floor with the sea view. What we didn’t realize was that our sea view is more like an industrial view. Across the sea is Johor, Pasir Gudang area. I think there’s a huge oil refinery there because every evening fire will burn from the top of a tall chimney and it can be seen directly from our windows. Ok lah, but this is still better than facing the carpark or the trees. My husband and I had been dating almost 10 years before we got married and collected our keys, and in the last three years, we had been living together in a rented studio apartment. I would describe our relationship as stable and, perhaps even boring. But boring is good. I’ve been in dramatic relationships when I was younger, but now in my 30s, I prefer the stability and predictability. My husband and I almost never fought at all. He’s a “tidak-apa” kind of guy, and I’m a submissive wife. We are one of the chillest couples I know. Ever since we moved in, we started fighting and arguing over the smallest things. My in-laws and my parents said to be patient and that it’s normal for newly weds with their own homes to be shortfused because of the stress of moving to a new place. I am ok outside, but once I’m at home, I get very annoyed. In June the following year, we went for our honeymoon to Italy for over a month and there were absolutely no arguments at all. We were back to our usual selves. The minute we got home, we started arguing about something simple as why either one of us left the suitcase by the door instead of bringing it in. I remember this incident clearly because I wanted to divorce him on the spot. Now thinking back… divorce over where to put the suitcase? What was I thinking? Sounds silly right? I tell you, it’s the house. It just gets weirder from there. There were many times I felt that we weren’t alone at home. I didn’t mention this - I have a four room apartment, and no kids, so there’s ample space for both my husband and I to have one room each for ourselves. Sometimes when I’m doing work on my computer in my room, I can feel someone in there with me. And like I mentioned earlier, the light from the furnace in Pasir Gudang can be seen clearly from our rooms, and with my room lights off, the whole room will be bathed in an eerie red glow. There’s one time I felt like there was something in the corner, and I kept staring at it. Then the shadow moved - it moved! - casually walked along the wall and through my closed door. I stayed in my seat, stunned at what I had just seen. The first time I experienced that was in August because it was around the National Day week. That was just the first of many occurrences. The sighting of moving shadows just got more frequent. Almost once a week, and there isn’t any pattern to it. At first I kept these sightings to myself because I didn’t want to blow it out of proportion, and also if I started speaking to my husband at home, he and I would just end up fighting. So when at home, we just kept to ourselves to avoid quarrels. One day, I tak boleh tahan (cannot endure it) anymore, and when we were out for dinner, I told him the things I had seen the last few months. To my surprise, he also started opening up that he had been seeing things. In fact, for him, he even had his things disappearing and reappearing elsewhere. And there was no one else around at home. I was out at work during that time. We asked around our friends and colleagues for anyone who might know of anyone that can help take a look at our place. We considered seeking help from an ustaz, but considering that my husband and I are both not staunch muslims, we didn’t want to call an Ustaz down in case we got nagged at. Eventually we accepted help from a cousin of one of my colleagues who is a practicing spirtualist. I was told she is sensitive to such things and can communicate with energy. She doesn’t charge; I think for us, that was the selling point. We didn’t know who to trust and we didn’t want to get conned. We invited her over on a Saturday afternoon. She used the living room table to set up her little crystal altar. She walked around the house with a pendulum, and occasionally swapping them for dowsing rods. After she’s done, she sat us down together for a chat. In the first five minutes of the conversation, my husband and I were sold. We came into this meeting with a healthy dose of skeptism; we wanted to hear what an “expert” would have to say about our place, but at the same time, we weren’t wholly one hundred percent going to believe every word. Does that make sense? We were curious, but we weren’t naive, so to speak? Not even sure how to describe it properly, but anyway, the first statement she said to us was: Your house has a lot of fire. In the first first minutes the spirtualist was able to pinpoint exact positions where the shadows would originate from, and at which parts of the house that we would fight. I wasn’t even aware that there were specific parts, I knew we found all over the place; but for her to describe how each of us felt, I thought that was a level of accuracy I wasn’t expecting. And what made me believe her is that she didn’t need to ask us any questions; she was telling us all of these without prior knowledge. Apparently, our home is very “hot”. There’s lots of fire element, and the element in our home is of wood. My husband and I are both water and wind. The overwhelming fire meant that our energy was “eaten up by the house”. And this home has now become a portal for entities to travel between words freely. Apparently, they mean us no harm. We are just… in their way. We asked for solutions - of course we did, because I’m not okay with my house becoming a playground for these fire spirits or whatever it is. By this point, my hubby and I are convinced that the spirtualist isn’t a con artist, and we felt comfortable telling her our experiences. The spiritualist advised us to put some water feature around the house, add plants for earth, and change the colour of our rooms to change the energy pattern. For our bedroom, we need to leave the blind down at all times and prevent the light from the fire to come in. I tried to give her some money for her time and transport but she wouldn’t accept it. I insisted she take something, and reluctantly, she agreed to tapao the Begawan solo kueh kueh I had bought for this consultation session that no one had touched. That very weekend we took her advice and went to get the items required and set them up. Immediately we felt a change in the mood. There were no more fights in the house after that and no more shadow people running around. When I asked the spiritualist about the shadow people coming out of the portal and where they are, she replied that they are probably around the block looking for places to stay. So Eugene, if you receive any confessions from Punggol about shadow people, you now know where they came from. The good news is the portal is closed. Confession by Ash Goh
I met up with a friend of mine, Cindy, who had recently lost her dog. Knowing the gifts I possess, she asked if I could “communicate” with her deceased dog, Dolly. Her dog was eager to talk so the connection was established right away. I normally let them share whatever they want in the initial part of the communication because most animals are excited that someone can understand them and they would rattle on and on. Dolly however was taking the conversation in a direction I didn’t anticipate. She went straight to showing me a bedroom and the view of the room. I was looking at the visions from a top down perspective. This was unusual because most dogs would show me visions from their eye level. Then Dolly shared with me something that took a sinister turn. “Something is in the house”, “it’s disturbing her (Cindy)”, “Mommy don’t listen to it”, “Mommy you have to help yourself”, “Dolly is watching (this entity)” and “Dolly is with mommy, protecting her” Goosebumps! Dolly wanted me to relay these messages to her mom urgently. There were a lot more she shared but those were personal stuff between them, not relevant to the story. As an animal communicator, we are the lowest ones on the totem pole when trying to relay to normal people what we know when talking to spirits… of people’s deceased pets. So I was thinking how I was going to tell Cindy what Dolly had said without sounding like a loony bin, offending the person or scaring them senseless (last thing I need is for them to think I am a nutcase myself). I think Cindy could sense my hesitation. I had to remind her I was only the messenger and that she should remember that, if she got offended by what I was about to say. I really hate passing these kinds of messages because most times it doesn’t sit well with people. People are expecting their deceased pets to say nice and loving things. I swear being an animal communicator is a thankless job. But thankfully, Cindy was calm and receptive when I told her what Dolly had said. Cindy said that actually her family members have sensed it for years, and that some friends and family members had also seen “things” in her house. But Cindy personally did not want to believe that her place was haunted and was fine sharing her home with the entity as long as it did not disturb her. According to Dolly, Cindy should take this message seriously and consider bringing in someone to do cleansing of the place, and if necessary negotiate a peace offering. I sketched out the layout in her room based on what Dolly showed me, and pointed at one of the rooms where Dolly had indicated where the spirit was located. Cindy said that is where her room is. I didn’t want to scare her, so I tried my best to lay it out gently: The spirit is right above the door, in that corner, watching you sleep every night. Immediately after I had said that, I could tell that the spirit was angry at me for interfering. Seriously lah. Tell also wrong, don’t tell also wrong. Becoming an animal communicator is really one of the worst jobs in the world. Confession by Ash Goh
You know, I was contemplating whether I should share this story. I would really like to add some humor to it to lighten the mood a little but damn, this one just felt like dead weight in my gut pulling me down under. It’s the sole reason why I don’t wanna engage with spirits of the dearly departed who won’t depart. There is something deeply disturbing about them which is why they are still here. So, I spoke to a dog tonight and he came into the circle willingly. I did this remotely from my own home. This was a dog I had communicated with before so it was easy to connect, but this time I felt a little nauseous, off balanced and ill when we were connected. I didn’t need to lie down but I felt just a little off. Then he showed me a girl, Caucasian, blonde, with her face exploding outwards. The vision literally showed her face exploding outwards with blood and gore. This was my first experience as an Animal Communicator with this sort of a disturbing vision. Animals don’t usually have the cognitive ability to scare with such visions because usually what are relayed to me are what they see with their eyes. This communication was certainly not going the right way. After that vision, it felt like there was a frequency jam between us and I couldn’t really get anything through or from the dog. I tried to reconnect with different methods, but something was preventing us from communicating. Then just as I was about to give up, the visions came back. It was the girl again. Red dress, red because it was soaked in blood. Imagine a white dress sprayed with blood. That’s what it looked like. I wasn’t feeling very good about this communication, wondering how to deliver the message without scaring the pawrents silly. Walking on eggshells, and on top of thin ice, with me, Godzilla on rollerblades with a blindfold. That’s how it felt navigating this communication minefield sometimes. There had to be some kind of history there. This dog was showing me what he was seeing but I wasn’t about to go up to the her asking, “Excuse me ah.. but what happened to you?” A part of me was curious, but another part of me would rather not know. I thanked the dog for the communication and we left the circle because it was obvious we weren’t alone. She was tapping into our connection as she wanted to communicate. So I called the pawrent and slowly waded into the deep end of the pool by asking if the pawrent noticed her dog feeling unwell? The answer was yes but that was last week. This wasn’t it. The feeling I detected was in real time when I connected with the dog. I asked gingerly if she noticed her dog acting strangely in the new home. She said her dog had a tendency of barking in the corridor at nobody. I told her the time I was communicating with her dog, which was the time frame I was seeing these images, matched the time her dog was barking. I asked if this strange behavior was also prevalent at home but her reply was that he was fine. I was relieved because whatever the dog could see was only loitering outside and did not get inside the house. I suggested she kept the door closed and consider inviting a priest from their church to bless (consecrate) the home before moving in officially. Thankfully the pawrent was nice about it and didn’t think I was a freak or worse, a money grabbing charlatan scam artist. I swear man, I love my gift but I hate having to be the harbinger of bad news. But damn, some hardcore stuff happened to her a long time ago. After the session, I felt chills run through my body. I think the girl roaming the corridor was trying to connect with me but I really wasn’t in the mood for it, so I went on a mantra chanting solo performance reciting Our Father. “Please, please, please just leave me alone. I really don’t wanna know. Go find some other 3rd Eyed person to talk to. I wasn’t built for this kind of mission in life.” After I stopped feeling the chills, I texted another member of the Supernatural Confessions group asking if he had ever seen such an entity before. I started describing the vision the dog had shown me, and he said he has - World War II victims. That totally made sense because I was wondering how people got their faces blown up like that in Singapore? It was a girl so how did this happen??? I was not sure if she was shot in the face during the war or she took a fall and landed on her face but it was gruesome. I took a long shower and tried to shake off the vibe I picked up from her. It was really disturbing, this feeling of unrest. She wasn’t particularly malevolent. Just aimless and lost, roaming the space. I think the dog saw her and was barking to warn her not to enter the home. Animals do that to protect their family from things seen and unseen. Nothing we can do about it when it is outdoors though. As long as it is not in our home, just let it be and wish it a safe journey into the light sooner rather than later. |
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