LexTalk

There’s a certain kind of quiet that settles in your home late at night—just after the show ends, but before sleep takes over. That’s where my husband and I were last night. We were lying in bed, halfway between another episode of The Traitors, when something happened that stopped us cold.

Our bedroom door—left open just a sliver so our cat Juggy can come and go—slowly creaked open a few more inches… and then stopped.

Not slammed. Not pushed wide. Just a deliberate, almost cautious movement… and then stillness.

My husband and I looked at each other instantly, eyes wide. We felt it at the same time—that cold, unmistakable flicker of energy that slips into the room and settles in your chest.

I tried to brush it off. Our windows were open. Maybe it was just the wind, I told myself, though even as I said it, I knew something about it felt… off. Too precise. Too aware.

But that wasn’t all.

The past two nights, we’ve noticed the blanket on our ottoman—always folded neatly before bed—has been shifted in the morning. Not thrown. Not chaotic. Just… moved. Tugged, maybe. Like something had touched it. Naturally, I blamed Juggy. He’s a cat, after all, and we all know what happens when the zoomies strike at 3 a.m.

But curiosity got the better of us, so we checked our Eufy security cameras that watch over the living room.

Nothing.

No footage of Juggy near the couch or the blanket. No movement. No shadows. Just silence and stillness, like nothing had ever happened.

That’s when I felt it—that magnetic pull to reach for my new Witching Hour oracle deck. It’s a recent addition to my collection, but one I’ve been so excited to connect with. Something about the imagery, the energy—it just speaks to that liminal place between curiosity and caution.

I shuffled the cards with slightly shaky hands, hoping for insight, or at the very least, comfort.

I pulled three:

• To the Grave
• The Forests
• Feeding Crows

The air felt heavier as I laid them down.

To the Grave whispered of lingering spirits or energies not quite at peace—something hanging on, possibly trying to communicate. The Forests reminded me of the unknown, the places we can’t easily see or understand. And Feeding Crows… that one made me sit up straighter. It’s about energy exchange—how what we give our attention to may begin to feed from it.

I felt a chill crawl across my skin. It was like the cards were saying: Something is here. Something is watching. Something is waiting.

I didn’t grab sage. I didn’t light a candle. What I did do, though, was close my eyes, place a hand over my chest, and say the prayer that’s become my shield in moments like this:

Spirit of Light and Love,

Surround this room and every corner of my home. Let only peace, calm, and love dwell within these walls. If any energy lingers that does not serve our highest good, I ask it now, with firm kindness, to return to the light. You are not welcome here. This is a space of safety, love, and rest. Guardian spirits, ancestors, and guides— Please watch over me, my husband, our home, and our sweet Juggy. Shield us from fear and disturbance. Let only clarity and comfort remain. Blanket us in serenity. Cleanse the air, seal the doorways, quiet the shadows. Tonight, we sleep in peace. Tomorrow, we rise with strength. Amen. So mote it be. And so it is.

That night, I drifted off feeling a little more protected—but the questions still linger.

What made the door move like that? Why didn’t the cameras catch Juggy? And who—or what—is nudging that blanket in the night?

I don’t have answers. Not yet. But I’ve learned to listen to the signs. To respect the mystery. To stay curious… even when I’m scared.

Have you ever experienced anything like this? A chill that came from nowhere? A movement that couldn’t be explained? Something whispering through the ordinary, making you pause and wonder?

If so, I want to hear your story. Share it in the comments or message me—because I truly believe that when we speak our experiences out loud, we invite light into the unknown.

Until then, keep your intuition sharp and your heart open. You never know when something might be watching… or when it just might want to say hello.