Hometown Ghost Stories contains serious and often distressing events and is not intended for all audiences.

Viewer discretion is advised.

We buried my father on a rainy March morning eight years ago, but recently he's been showing up in my dreams.

I still live in the house he left me.

It was his dad's before him, so it's been in our family for a long time.

But this past year, things got rough.

I lost my job at the machine shop, and the bills started stacking up.

Before I knew it, I was getting foreclosure warnings in the mail. I was about a month away

from losing the house, and it just broke me. Not because it's where I grew up, but because I knew

how hard my dad works to keep it. It felt like I was letting him down. That's when the dream started.

The first time, I woke up in the middle of the night, just sat up out of

nowhere, and there he was. My dad, standing at the foot of my bed, except not exactly. He looked

off, skin too pale, eyes too dark, like he hadn't slept in years. He didn't say a word,

just stood there, staring. Then slowly,

he raised his arm and pointed straight up at the ceiling. The second time he was standing inside my bedroom closet. I must have left the door open a crack because I could see the shape of him

through it. I turned on a lamp, and there he was again.

Same face, same silence, same finger, pointing toward the ceiling.

The third time was the worst.

I woke up cold, like the heat had been off all night.

I didn't see him at first, but I felt something was wrong, like someone was in the room.

I rolled over, leaned down, and lifted the bed skirt. There he was, under the bed,

lying on his back, face pale and blank. His eyes locked onto mine the second I looked,

...