My Night(mare) in a Haunted B&B
Meeting Casper the Horny Ghost was Not on the Itinerary
The plan was simple. Romantic. Take my new husband to a charming B&B, then soak in the healing waters of a mineral spa. He'd never been to either, so this had to be good.
I researched it all - every detail curated with love and intention. The spa was divine. The B&B was straight out of the Gone with the Wind movie set...if Scarlett had a thing for flickering shadows and antique dolls with side-eyes.
We arrived, and the house exuded Old World Charm, the kind with faded edges.
The Universe Loves a Good Plot Twist
Creaky floorboards.
Shadows that flickered with a light of their own.
Gardens that looked askew, as if the trees were begging the sun for solace.
My radar, finely tuned from years of spiritual work, picked up eerie vibes.
My husband pulled me aside during check in: "You sure you want to stay here?" to which I sassily replied, "Of course. I can handle weird energy."
Duh.
It was a beautiful setting, and I was fully committed to my weekend fantasy, clearly forgetting that the universe LOVES a good plot twist.
Cue the Ominous Music
As we got the keys to our room, our B&B host casually mentioned, "The wiring's old. Lights might flicker." That was the only warning we got.
We settled into our stately room - four-poster bed, antique decor, the whole vision of Victorian living La Vida Loca.
Then the lights started playing tag. My lamp flickered hard. His lamp turned off and on four times. We should’ve left. We didn’t. I pressed myself against him and somehow fell asleep.
The Witching Hour
I woke to a bright, staticky light. The clock said it was just after 3:00 am.
The television - untouched, unused - had turned itself on.
“What the fuck?” I whispered, incredulous.
My husband, ever the calm protector, said, “It happens all the time.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I snapped.
Somehow, some way, we fell asleep again. Maybe we were in disbelief that anything worse could happen. Maybe exhaustion overruled common sense. My dreams were strange. I couldn’t move. My husband said I was murmuring in distress, and he had to gently shake me to ease the dreams. Then the covers began slipping off of me, not passively, but like someone was tugging them from the foot of the bed.
I Thought My Husband Was Caressing Me. He Wasn't
And then… someone started stroking my breasts. I swatted hands away, thinking my husband was feeling frisky. Only at dawn, when we finally opened our bleary eyes, did he tell me he’d watched me swatting at something above my chest.
We dubbed the invisible pervert - Casper, the horny ghost. Laugh now, but I’m still tense thinking about some Beetlebreast getting his invisible jollies off me. Who knew ghosts had game?
What Does This Have to Do with Appreciation?
Everything.
Appreciation doesn’t mean staying silent. Sometimes it means naming the weird, the wild, and the WTF with reverence.
It means honoring the full spectrum of living, even the haunted, the hilarious, and the downright bizarre. It means laughing through the discomfort, blessing the room after the chaos, and reclaiming your spiritual sovereignty one ghost story at a time.
I appreciate that I was with the safest person I know, my husband. I appreciate that my intuition was spot-on, even though and I only honored it after the fact. I appreciate the laughter we share now, retelling this story like a campfire legend to the delight and horror of our friends and family. And I appreciate the clarity: I’ve experienced a haunted house, and I ain’t ever doing it again.
We didn’t run from the haunted B&B. We stayed, we swatted, we appreciated.
That’s spiritual badassery.
Epilogue
We called the hosts to let them know we wouldn’t be staying a second night. My husband explained, “It was too spooky. The television turned itself on in the middle of the night. My wife was terrified.”
To which the host replied—I kid you NOT: “Oh… well, we have presences here. It’s benign. They’re just having fun.”
They're??? As in plural. As in a plethora of ghastly ghosts playing tricks on us. Apparently, we’d booked a weekend getaway with the Paranormal Party Pack.
If you wanna stay there yourself, you'll have to contact me privately to give you the name of the haunted B8B, somewhere in the big ol' state of Texas.
Be warned - you too may experience some paranormal foreplay.
Your Turn
What’s the weirdest, wildest, most WTF moment you’ve ever appreciated after the fact? Who needs this story to remember that laughter is sacred, intuition is real, and ghosts apparently have game? Share it. Bless it. Reclaim it. That’s appreciation with teeth.
