
I always start a conversation with a paranormal client the same way: “What do you think it is?”
That question does more than just break the ice—it hands the power right back to the person experiencing the phenomenon. After all, they’re the expert on their own life, their fears, their memories. I’ve learned that when people start describing what they’ve seen or felt, they’re not just listing off events. They’re unpacking emotions, beliefs, and the stories they’ve been telling themselves for years—sometimes without even realizing it. And that’s where the real insight begins.
There’s actually some psychology to back this up. Jerome Bruner, a big name in narrative psychology, argued that the stories we tell ourselves don’t just help us make sense of the world—they shape who we are. So when I ask, “What do you think it is?” I’m not fishing for a definitive answer. I’m opening the door for someone to explore how their past, culture, and personal fears color their experience of the unknown. Paranormal encounters aren’t just things that happen to us; they’re tangled up in memory, expectation, and belief.
Over the years, I’ve seen how just talking about these things can lead to personal breakthroughs. There’s an art to guiding someone through their own story without putting words in their mouth. My job isn’t to tell people what’s haunting them—it’s to help them connect the dots on their own. And time and again, I’ve found that just having the space to reflect on an experience can bring a sense of understanding, even closure. That’s something parapsychology has noted too: discussing paranormal encounters can be just as important as investigating them.
This philosophy carries over into my writing. My books aren’t just about eerie events or things that go bump in the night—they’re about the way we experience the unknown. They’re about belief, identity, and the unseen threads that connect us all. I don’t believe in neatly packaged explanations. I believe in the power of questions. The uncertainty is where the real magic happens.
And honestly, I think that’s the point. The search for answers isn’t about landing on one universal truth. It’s about the process—the conversations, the reflections, the way we stretch our minds trying to make sense of the impossible. If there’s one thing I believe with absolute certainty, it’s this: the mystery itself matters. The act of questioning brings us closer to something bigger than ourselves.
So let’s keep asking. Let’s keep wondering. Because in the end, we’re all part of this grand, never-ending conversation—one that challenges us, shapes us, and maybe, just maybe, brings us closer to understanding the unknown.
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