Yesterday, while scrolling through Substack, I saw a note from Emerald City Ghosts asking if anyone had stories about The Hat Man. If you are unaware of this shadowy figure, he tends to show up in the wee hours of the night and is generally associated with sleep paralysis, although there are those who have other ideas about who The Hat Man may be.
I have not seen this creepy dude, but I have a friend who might have. This story goes all the way back to the early 80s and my teenage years. I was still on Scotland at that time, and I remember my friend looking freaked out and frazzled at school. When I asked him if he was okay, he shared a couple of stories that gave me the creeps and made me somewhat unwilling to ever set foot in his house again. I will tell you about The Hat Man first, after which I will share another story about a figure who made it into my dreams many years later.
My friend lived in a rather ordinary row of attached condos in an ordinary Scottish subdivision. He slept upstairs in this 3-bedroom home, which formed a U-shape at the top of the stairs. His room was tucked in one of the corners, with the bathroom at the opposite end. On this night, he stumbled out of bed to go use the bathroom, crossing the top of the stairs on his way. Seeing movement out the corner of his eye, he looked downstairs and saw a man in a hat standing at the bottom. He described the look of the man as being like something from a 30s gangster movie. The shadowy figure had his head down and seemed to be focused on something in his hand.
At the time, I remember thinking that this was an incredibly creepy ghost story, but it wasn’t until I watched a documentary called The Nightmare that the idea of The Hat Man popped into my head. Now, if you haven’t seen this documentary, I suggest you get on it, as it is aptly named. I had trouble sleeping for days after watching it, which is not cool for someone as desensitized to horror as I am. In the movie, people talked about their experience with The Hat Man, and one little nugget jumped out at me. Several people mentioned that when they saw him, he was holding a pocket watch in his hand. Was that what my friend saw all those years ago?
I mentioned there was another story from that same damn house, so let’s get to that. My friend’s sister had a few experiences there, but there is one in particular that makes me full body shudder every time I think about it. As the story goes, she woke up one night and felt as though someone was in her room watching her. She rolled over and saw a stone man kneeling beside her bed staring at her with real eyes. She, of course, bolted from the room screaming bloody murder. When the parents went to check, nothing was there.
That story has always stuck with me, and I liked the idea of putting the stone man into a story at some point, although that is yet to happen. He did, though, make an appearance in my dreams. I should mention here that I have always had very vivid dreams, many of which are of the nightmare variety. In one such dream, I was at a theme park to go on an attraction called Hostel: The Ride. It was set inside a massive warehouse in which a massive maze had been built. As I made my way through the labyrinth, I could hear screams and agonized wailing, all of which got louder the deeper I went. I eventually stepped into an opening to find my dad strapped to a wheelchair and totally out of it. The stone man stood in the corner of this room, his real eyes fixated on my old man. As I watched, he strode forward and sliced the top of my dad’s head off using a rusty curved blade. Worms and maggots spilled from the wound, and I woke up drenched in sweat.
That nightmare came about 30 years after hearing the original story of the stone man, so it is obvious he is inside my head looking for a way out. I think the only way to purge him is to write about him and give him some sort of life. If I do come up with a story for this creepy dude, I will share it here.
There’s something uniquely terrifying about the Hat Man because he doesn’t need to do anything. He just stands there—watching, waiting, existing at the edge of what you can see. That kind of horror gets under my skin far more than anything that jumps out at you.
Incredible🖤🖤
Isn't there an entity that if you write about them the more alive they become until they can appear in the real world?
As one who suffers from sleep paralysis I am very thankful I've never had him there. I'd cry when I got free. Ha. Now I'm paranoid.. as always. Thanks for those nuggets of horror.