The Most Haunted Dear Prudence Letters of All Time
Our advice columnists have heard it all over the years. In this special Halloween edition, we dive into the Dear Prudie archives and share some of the best letters we’ve received about spooky happenings.
Dear Prudence,
I live in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the country, but on one of the more “modest” streets—mostly doctors and lawyers and family business owners. (A few blocks away are billionaires, families with famous last names, media moguls, etc.) I have noticed that on Halloween, what seems like 75 percent of the trick-or-treaters are clearly not from this neighborhood. Kids arrive in overflowing cars from less fortunate areas. I feel this is inappropriate. Halloween isn’t a social service or a charity in which I have to buy candy for less fortunate children. Obviously this makes me feel like a terrible person, because what’s the big deal about making less fortunate kids happy on a holiday? But it just bugs me, because we already pay more than enough taxes toward actual social services. Should Halloween be a neighborhood activity, or is it legitimately a free-for-all in which people hunt down the best candy grounds for their kids?
In the urban neighborhood where I used to live, families who were not from the immediate area would come in fairly large groups to trick-or-treat on our streets, which were safe, well-lit, and full of people overstocked with candy. It was delightful to see the little mermaids, spider-men, ghosts, and the occasional axe murderer excitedly run up and down our front steps, having the time of their lives. So we’d spend an extra $20 to make sure we had enough candy for kids who weren’t as fortunate as ours. There you are, 99, on the impoverished side of Greenwich or Beverly Hills, with the other struggling lawyers, doctors, and business owners. Your whine makes me kind of wish that people from the actual poor side of town come this year not with scary costumes but with real pitchforks. Stop being callous and miserly and go to Costco, you cheapskate, and get enough candy to fill the bags of the kids who come one day a year to marvel at how the 1 percent live.—Emily Yoffe
From: “Help! Kids From Poorer Neighborhoods Keep Trick-or-Treating in Mine.” (Oct. 23, 2014)
Dear Prudence,
I’ve always been sensitive to the spirits of the dead. My mom told me that when I was little I used to “play” with my deceased grandfather, I often know things that I have no other way of knowing, and generally, I can just sense a presence sometimes. Except for a few terrible childhood field trips to battlefields, I’ve always found it comforting—most spirits are gentle and not all that interested in people they didn’t know in life, and I enjoy the fact that even when I’m alone, I’m not really alone.
A few months ago my dad passed away (my mom passed years ago). I inherited my parent’s house, and my husband and I decided to move in and grow our family to fill the space. The thing is, my parents won’t leave me alone! Recently, my husband and I were in our bedroom working on “growing our family” and I sensed my dad, which ruined the mood. My mom definitely disapproves of the fact that I tore down her dining room wallpaper. And they both showed up in the middle of a petty argument we had, and took sides! I did not sign up for moving back in with my parents.
I know from experience that the dead don’t take orders from the living, and I really like the idea of my children growing up in a house infused with their grandparents’ spirits, so I need to get over this. How can I get used to having my parents hovering over my shoulder all the time?
Far be it from me to suggest that your parents’ spirits aren’t hanging around. I will take your word for it, and go with what people who sincerely believe in this kind of paranormal activity would suggest: Say, “By the power of all my good karma, direct connection to Source, agape love, and selfless acts, I ask the universe to please remove all negative entities from this house. You are not welcome here, so please go back to where you came from.” Since you know these people, you can preface that with “Sorry mom and dad, but…”—Jenée Desmond-Harris
From: “Help! I Inherited My Childhood Home … And Accidentally Moved Back in With My Dead Parents.” (Oct. 1, 2022)
Dear Prudence,
My daughter “Sarah,” almost 8, got to spend a lot of time with her cool aunt, my free-spirited big sister, this summer. (We had a child care lapse and made an unexpected trip to visit a sick elderly relative.) One thing they did together was watch a very popular baking competition show. Truthfully, it’s a very wholesome show, and now Sarah wants to bake and I get to spend weekend afternoons in the kitchen with her while she does funny British accents, so I’m thrilled to bits. My daughter’s favorite contestant is a Muslim Bangladeshi British woman, and she has asked for copies of her cookbooks and has read about her on the internet a lot. Last weekend, when we were getting ready to make some cookies, she said she wanted to “play Nadiya” and went to grab a towel to cover her head like this woman does. I told her that wasn’t OK, that this woman wore a scarf because of her religion and it wasn’t nice to do that when we don’t follow it, but that she could pretend by doing her fake British accent. Sarah says she plays Nadiya at her aunt’s, and now I’m annoyed. Sarah was further distraught because she was planning to dress as this woman for Halloween. Prudie, my daughter can’t pretend to be this woman by donning a fake hijab in my house, her aunt’s, or for Halloween, can she?
There are two things worth stressing to Sarah at the same time: First, she’s not in trouble for liking Nadiya or wanting to be like her; her admiration is genuine and not driven by any impulse to mock. Second, you can also start talking to her, in age-appropriate ways, about the history of Islamophobia and black- and brownface (there’s even a current political story you can bring in to illustrate your point) and why putting on a funny British accent generally isn’t considered rude when imitating other peoples’ accents often is.
Your daughter sounds inquisitive, playful, and warmhearted. Rather than saying, “No, you’re forbidden to do X,” once you’ve talked more about the context and history of such costumes, encourage her to develop a thoughtful, conscientious response that’s neither self-flagellating (since it’s not her fault as an 8-year-old) nor dismissive (since she has to live in the world and can’t shrug off history). That said, I think you’re right to draw the line at letting your daughter put on a hijab for a Halloween costume, and if it becomes necessary you can say: “Sorry, I’m your mom and I said so. You can communicate the persona of Nadiya the baker through some other means.”—Danny M. Lavery
From: “Help! My Daughter Wants to Wear a Hijab for Halloween.” (Oct. 1, 2019)
Dear Prudence,
The dads I take my kids trick-or-treating with—all neighbors and family friends—bring thermoses full of strong cocktails when we head out. We walk around our neighborhood for maybe two hours, so by the end of the night, some of them are drunk and rowdy. As the only one not to bring a cocktail thermos, I feel embarrassed for the men, because they are not smooth drunks and their kids notice their inebriation, and I get stressed out, because I feel responsible for making sure none of the kids falls behind. Last year when I mentioned that it might not be a great idea to drink during an event primarily centered around our children, they blew me off. I am not looking forward to Halloween this year and am considering taking my kids to my in-laws’ neighborhood for the night. Should I broach this subject again with them or back off?
It will be a memorable Halloween if Dad barfs in the candy bag—at least that will solve the dilemma about what to do with all that junk. The hours are ticking down until the drunken crawl around the neighborhood, but I think you should put on your Carrie Nation costume and send a group email, or call the other fathers, and say after you take your kids out you’d like to invite all the dads back to your house for a well-deserved cocktail. But tell them you’re uncomfortable going around with drinks while supervising the kids. If they blow you off as a milquetoast, gather your kids in the car and tell them the treats are even better in their grandparents’ neighborhood. —E.Y.
From: “Help! Neighborhood Dads Get Drunk While Our Kids Trick-or-Treat.” (Oct. 31, 2011)
Dear Prudence,
My boyfriend, “Peter,” wants to break up with me. Obviously that’s his right, I know that, but it feels like I’m actually being irresponsible by just leaving. Peter has always had an interest in the paranormal and things like that. So do I, although I prefer M.R. James to actual, real-life creepy places. Over the past six months, however, Peter has moved further left of the socially accepted idea of normal. He’s become convinced that I’m the reincarnation of an evil witch. And sure, maybe he just thinks I’m an evil witch and wants an excuse to dump me. I’d actually be relieved if that were true, to be honest. Peter really seems to believe that I’m an evil soul, though, and is quite sad over this.
I just don’t know how to navigate this breakup ethically and respectfully. He’s not violent or a risk to himself, and there are plenty of worse conspiracy theories out there. On the other hand, he also wants to end a three-year relationship because he’s realized he’s dating an evil spirit. That doesn’t seem like the decision of a healthy psyche, and this has all just happened in a relatively short space of time. He doesn’t talk to his family—he’s always said they were weirdly religious, which seems relevant now—and he’s distanced himself from his old friends so he could find ones with the same interests. Right now it feels like I’m the only person in his life with a healthy dose of skepticism, and that it would be irresponsible to just … leave for saner pastures. But he’s a grown man and he doesn’t want me around anymore (since I am apparently unconsciously feeding on his purity), so is there anything I can do? He’s obviously not inclined to take my evil-inspired advice right now.
There is a complicated gray area in between “totally unreasonable/baffling but part of the rich tapestry of human weirdness” and “deeply concerning, time to call a doctor,” and I’m afraid this might fall into it. Certainly I don’t think you should stay in a relationship just because you’re afraid you’re the only tether a person has left to sanity—that’s not a reasonable or healthy burden to place on yourself. If you want to try to remain even distantly connected so that you can periodically check in and potentially try to intervene if or when his delusions do strike you as more worrying, then I think that’s worth doing. But I think this romantic relationship is clearly over, and to whatever degree you’ll be able to remain in his life, it’ll be as someone who cares deeply about his well-being and wants him to maintain a strong grip on reality. I think the best thing you can do now is accept that this relationship is over.
I don’t want to say that just because he’s fallen prey to a conspiracy theory/is experiencing what sounds like delusional thinking, you are necessarily in danger, but I do hope that if he ever escalates from “You’re an evil spirit” to “You’re an evil spirit, and it’s my responsibility to get rid of evil spirits,” you’ll already be far away and well-protected. To that end, I think you should make sure that you’re not alone with him right now. I know you say he’s not violent or a risk to anyone, and I’ll take your word on that. I’m not suggesting you need to call the police or put him in a psychiatric hold—I don’t think that would do him much good. But if he ever does start offering threats, please prioritize your safety. —D.L.
From: “Help! My Boyfriend Thinks I’m the Reincarnation of an Evil Witch.” (June 3, 2019)
Last year one of our neighbors was really ticked off about our Halloween decorations being too scary. We really do go for the more ghoulish decorating and have a lot of fun with it! What’s Halloween without the fog machines, scary music (not loud), ghosts, and gruesome decor? The neighbors on either side of us have joined the fun and put up quite a display themselves. None of the decorations are over-the-top blood and guts, but the standard Halloween fare. The angry neighbors across the street have a 5-year-old daughter. They said she wouldn’t sleep with the light off for a month after our “horrifying” decorations “scared the daylights” out of their little girl.
