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The Claddagh Hostel

Jennifer, Connecticut, USA
March 2006

This event took place just two months ago in December. I had just finished up a semester in Italy, and I had decided to take a very short holiday in Ireland before reluctantly flying back home to the US, to once again resume working and paying bills.

I basically just hung out in Dublin for a few days, drinking Guinness and recuperating from a very stressful term. I spent one of my nights in Galway; I had been there once before for a day, and wanted to see a bit more. Now being a broke art student, I went for the cheapest hostel I could find on the Internet. The Claddagh is a great hostel, don't get me wrong, great price and a very welcoming and laid back atmosphere. I have been in a lot of hostels all over Europe, and I would definitely advise staying there. That being said, on to the incident.

I had gone out on my own that night, just bumming around the center of Galway and checking out a cover band at one of the pubs. I returned to the hostel at about 2:00am, only slightly intoxicated. I got all my showering done then (hot tip for travelers, get it all done in the middle of the night so there will most likely be hot water and you don't have to wait), I got into my bed at 2:30am. The dorm room was packed full of bunk beds, and getting there late in the day I scored the only top bunk that was perpendicular to the wall. These are the kind of bunk beds that are very high up off the ground; I had no problem, as there were some heavy-duty wooden railings on both sides of the bed, I figured it would be unlikely I would roll off the edge.

I figure it out to be about 3:00am, and I was still in not so deep, so I was awakened by a bunch of very aggravated French girls in the process of kicking a guy out of one of their beds. The beds are not assigned, so you can imagine the confusion. After a lot of heavily-accented drunken arguing, all was mercifully quiet again, and I began to drift off.

When I was half-way there, still in la-la land, I noticed a guy along the left side of my bed. He seemed to pace back and forth for a few seconds, poke me in the arm so that it actually hurt, and then head towards the foot of the bed. It was dark enough to make things out, but not very well, and I am absolutely blind without my contacts or glasses; I cannot recall any features, just that he was young, about 20-something, with short and very blonde hair. He was wearing a bright orange tee-shirt.

Now, I dream vividly almost every night, often long epic dreams. I recall only once in over 20 years of this, ever feeling real pain. Never are they prophetic, and they never cross into "reality." The more I think about it, the more unlikely it is that I imagined this guy.

1) I saw a vivid color in a very dark room.
2) He poked me, gently in the fat of my upper arm, near my shoulder, oddly causing pain I can only describe as a lingering, stabbing, cold 'burn.'
3) Weirdest of all: I am 5 feet 4 inches tall, and the top of the railing was just above my eye-level. So I recall this orange shirted boy from chest-level up, not really walking, but quickly gliding along my bed. If he were really there he would have had to be almost seven feet tall, and by the size of the rest of him, that would have been grossly un-proportional.

I remember feeling my arm hurt as I described above, I was anxious and tired, and a bit freaked out by him, but then I was rolling over to my right and falling asleep. I remembered this all clearly, and only now thinking back it seems creepy.

I am curious as to what this guy wanted, sad because it seems he wanted to get my attention. Not to sound cheesy, but I hope he finds peace if he was indeed a restless spirit.

Thanks for reading!

Jennifer, Connecticut, USA
00:00 / 01:04
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