The Antiquarium Presents: Scare You To Sleep: Sensory Deprivation

Everyone wishes for someone to love them, to choose them, to need them. But what happens when you get more than you wish for. On May 15th,

“Experienced Director Curry Barker's Nightmarish Vision that has critics and audiences absolutely obsessed. It's twisted and sinister, brilliant and insane. You have been warned.”

Obsession is blood-soaked nightmare fuel, and with a rotten tomato score of 96% fresh, it's destined to become an instant horror classic. The best horror movie of the year is Obsession. Be careful who you wish for. Obsession. Raided R. under 17 not admitted without parent. In theaters everywhere May 15th, get your tickets now. With special engagements in Dolby, rotten tomato rating is of April 24th, 2026. Hi, it's Trevor from the Acquisitions Department here at the Antiquarium. From time to time, the Antiquarium permits limited observational access to certain objects in the collection.

Usually, to universities, occasionally, to private sleep laboratories. The arrangement is fairly straightforward.

“An artifact is placed nearby while subjects sleep. Then the researchers document whatever follows.”

Share dreams, unfamiliar voices, sleepwalking, sudden nosebleeds, repeating symbols drawn by people who never met. You know, the usual findings.

A recent study brought us into contact with the scare you to sleep institute overseen by our good friend Shelby Novak, a specialist in immersive, nocturnal exposure therapy through whispered horror narratives and carefully controlled atmosphere. An admirable field of study for Dooseyser ourselves. The institute reported that multiple subjects describe the same figure standing silently at the foot of their bed following exposure to tonight's recording. We have, of course, requested further documentation for the archive. And as the research wisely suggests,

if someone mentions the paranormal and then asks, do you want to hear a story? Always say, yes. Now then, get comfortable, lower the lights, and if you wake in the middle of the night to find someone watching from the corner of the room,

do try not to acknowledge them first. Subscribe to scare you to sleep on Apple, Spotify, and wherever you get your podcasts.

[Music] [Music] [Music] Hello, and welcome to scare you to sleep. I'm your host Shelby Novak, and I'm here to read you, a bedtime story. This is a story I wrote a few years ago for the creepy podcast.

It's one of my favorites because I got to consult with my BFF Rosemary and utilize so many of the stories. She's told me over the years about her previous life working in property management. I also incorporated one of my favorite glitches in the matrix. One of those type of phenomenon, but you'll have to listen to see what it is. So whether it's for the first time or the first time in a while, please enjoy sensory deprivation. [Music] You want to hear a story? This is a story within a story, actually. Let me set the scene. I had just gotten a job and property management

at a big apartment complex, my cousin's friend's uncle owned, called the Regal. They were basically looking for anyone who cleaned up all right,

“and wasn't too brain dead to enter basic things into a computer. I think I got the job because I had a lot of customer service experience.”

AKA, I had been waiting tables and delivering pizzas, and they knew I could handle being yelled at without losing my cool. They also hired me just in time for them to be turning their antiquated paper systems digital. So on my third day, they had me stay late to do a bunch of data entry, have old boxes of files they had taken up space. My supervisor and the actual property manager, Bridget, stayed behind with me to help. She was a nice lady.

I'd say about mid-50s, always wore matching sweater sets, frequently brought in baked goods,

paid out of pocket to give out gift cards to the office at Christmas, and most important of all.

I've met more than a few within unfortunate combination of having a screw loose and a power complex.

“It's like they get their rocks off, at fine attendance for paint and a wall, or threatening to evict if they're a daylight on rent.”

The kind of people who hold onto a security deposit like it's coming from their own personal bank account, and not the mega corporation who owns a dozen identical properties. Bridget was different.

She pretended not to notice a new cat that popped up in a window. She always made sure repairs were done in a timely manner,

and she hated posting eviction notices, even for the more erratic tenants. What'd you listen to? She asked that evening, only her eyes visible over the large box of files on her desk. Oh, it's well, I don't think it would be your kind of thing. I said sheepishly. Draw me. She replied, pushing her chair back from her desk to get a better look at me. It was men November already dark outside, and she was wearing a golden rod sweater set

with a big turkey brooch pinned to one side. She was wearing navy slacks and sensible shoes. Her whole vibe was kindergarten teacher, so I was really hesitant to explain. I thought about line,

“but then I just word vomited. It's a podcast. Do you know what a podcast is?”

It's a podcast about the paranormal and has strangeness and how sometimes they talk about aliens, but they also cover ghosts and cryptids and just weird phenomenon in general. I don't believe in all of it. I'm not like a cook. It's just really fascinating and like we don't really know what everything is all about, so it's just fun to think about, you know? I went as she stared blankly at me. I knew I should have lied and just told her I was listening to the Beatles

or something, but then she said, "Do you want to hear a story?" A good rule of thumb for life. If you mention the paranormal and someone's answer is,

"Do you want to hear a story?" Always say, "Yes. You'll either hear something

batshit crazy or something that will make you think about life, the universe, and everything a little different from that day forward. Either way, it's a good time." "Yes, yes, yes, ma'am." I said, and this was her story. About 20 years ago, I had a tenant named Lucy. Well, the regal had a tenant named Lucy even though I've been here long enough to feel like I owned the place. My bank account begs to differ.

Lucy was an excellent tenant. Always paid her rent on time, never had any noise complaints and always just the sweetest person, a little bit of a new age type. Whenever she came into the office, she left a slight lingering sense of patchouli. She and I were around the same age. So when we saw each other, we would chat about dating and what books we were reading. I was usually reading whatever trashy

romance was advertised in Cosmo and she always had a book on astrology or meditation.

Well, one day, my supervisor, Debbie, who usually didn't find a necessary to drag herself out of her office most days, came slinking up to the front where I was dealing with a tenant, Mrs. Henderson, who was complaining about, "Well, God knows what. If the day ended in why, Mrs. Henderson was complaining. She was always in our office, clutching her little crusty white dog and what a yam are on for hours, if you let her." "Burge it. You've got to go serve an indoor-fiction notice

way. I need a witness. You want to come with." Mrs. Henderson was so mad, started yelling about how she was speaking. I remember thinking her dog looked like it was begging someone to put it out of its misery. I told her I was sorry, but we had to step away and as I promised, I'd have maintenance fix it. Whatever it was, she was on about. Probably the grass was half an inch too high. We ushered her out the door and Debbie locked it behind us.

“Debbie was an interesting character. I think she was one of those people who thought her life”

was supposed to turn out different and she felt like a stranger in her own world. She was nice and meant well, but well, she was a mess and dumb as a rock. She had that look about her, like you could tell she was a former beauty queen, but these days it always looked like her makeup was left over from the day before and she smelled like Virginia slims and raspberry body spray.

And she had just been coasting since then. She wasn't the best at her job, but I think the owner felt sorry for her after her husband ran off with that Sunday school teacher. So, there she sat and pickled in her office for decades. There was nowhere to rise too. She had tried a couple more

“husbands, I think hoping they'd each be the one to make her into the stay at home trophy wife.”

She'd always wanted to be. One ran out on her like the previous one and the other was arrested

for a Ponzi scheme. I remember thinking one thing in those days. I didn't want to be Debbie. I couldn't be her. I had dreams. I wanted to be a real estate agent. I had even been taking classes at night. Look, this job may be perfect for some people, but my only role model I had was Debbie and her liquid lunches and crying she thought we couldn't hear through her office door. So I wouldn't far away from this place. I can see your little shock to see me speaking so

rubly. I'm not usually want to gossip, but if I'm going to tell you a story, I need to paint you a picture and sometimes pictures aren't so pretty. Time isn't kind to all of us. It sure wasn't to Debbie.

“With Mrs. Henderson finally out of our way, we started our walk across the property.”

Somehow I'd miss that we'd given 208 the first notice and we were already on to the second.

208 was Lucy's apartment. And she had never been laid on rent much less late enough that it was

flagged for a vision. And even if she had been, Debbie was pretty lacks on people paying late here or there. She documented of course, but she had to contact the owner to begin a vision and she did anything she could not speak to that man. Including having me leave notices that looked like a fiction notices, but weren't. And would hopefully just scare the tenants into getting their money together. If you're not familiar with the second notice, then consider yourself having been

blessed in life. I know you're new here, so I'll explain. A second notice is when we legally have to leave on the inside of the door. We don't enter past that, especially if it looks like people are still living there. We just pop our heads in and tape it to the inside so we can legally state that the tenants have been notified and they can't claim wind must have blown it off the

outside of the door, or someone took it, or they never went outside and saw it.

Do you see Lucy around lately? Debbie asked me, "We were discouraged from fraternizing with tenants in any social way, and I thought Lucy and I had kept our little chats on the download as my nephew would say, but apparently Debbie wasn't as a loop as she seemed." "Oh, um, well, no, actually." I said, and I hadn't. As soon as Debbie asked, I really thought hard about it and realized, I hadn't spoken to much less scene, Lucy, in weeks.

I'm worried she must've skipped out on us. We were now climbing the stairs to the second floor. "Oh, Lucy wouldn't do that? I've worked here a long time bridge, and if a good reliable tenant isn't paying rent all of a sudden and not showing up around the ground, either they skipped town or they bought the farm." "You don't think. I was shocked. I couldn't believe it. Lucy was so young and vibrant and, and a vegetarian, she couldn't be dead. We were standing outside 208,

and I started to feel. Latt had it, and it wasn't just the Texas heat. Debbie unlocked the door, but before she opened it, she paused and turned to me. "Look, we're supposed to just chuck this

“notice inside and leave, but I think we should take a quick peek. Just looksy into her bedroom and”

bathroom." I agreed, of course, and I wanted to burst through the door, but Debbie put her overly hand arm up to stop me. "Bridge, there might be a smell, and if it has been a while, she won't look well. Look, you don't seem like the top to have seen much dead, and I'm just warning you. She won't look like the Lucy you know. But that's just live kid, right? Debbie's attempt to assure me had made me even more light-headed, and I remember a slight nausea coming over me.

Debbie, can we just go in? Lucy could be hurt in there. I'll be fine."

All the lights were out, and the only smell was of the bananas that had rotted on the breakfast bar

“of her small kitchen. Debbie said she would look in the bedroom and bathroom and I needed to stay”

in the living room. I let her, because she was my boss after all. I looked around Lucy's living room, and something just didn't feel right. It looked like she was about to step back through the door at any moment. Half burn incense sat in a Buddha-shaped holder. A few bills were scattered on the coffee table, but not over due ones, just everyday bills. Next to her phone in the kitchen was a small memo pad. It had a note that read, "Call mechanic about that sound." I would she leave herself a reminder

if she was never coming back. Debbie came out of the bedroom and said she didn't find anything.

Nothing in the bathroom, either. I asked if she minded if I looked, and she could watch me

“to make sure I wasn't trying to steal. I told her I wanted to look at her closet. Nothing weird,”

I just wanted to see if it looked like she had taken any clothes. She said she thought that was okay, and we went in together and slid open the big, mirrored closet door. It was full to the brim, and could have actually used some more organization, but nothing was missing. There couldn't have been anything missing because nothing else could have fit in there. "Deb, I'm worried about Lucy. What if she's hurt somewhere? What if she got into an accident?"

Debbie said, "Why don't you go back to the office and call around to the local hospitals? I'm going to go have a smoke and check her parking spot to see for cars here."

“And that's what we did. I went inside and called every hospital in the truck in the area.”

I called police stations and I stayed away past office hours to call shelters. Debbie had reported that her car was gone. In those days, we didn't ask for all the information we do now. Proof of registration, license plate, nothing like that. We couldn't even tell the police to keep it look out for her car. Plus, it was a beige Ford Taurus. Do you know how many of those were around in those days?

I swear every other car was a beige Ford Taurus, especially after that. I felt like I saw them everywhere. And every time I saw one, I checked to see if Lucy was driving. One time, I even saw one in the grocery store parking lot and I waited next to it for its owner to come out. It wasn't her of course, but I couldn't help myself just in case. As the eviction day drew closer, I lost more and more hope that Lucy would come back.

I could tell Debbie was feeling a similar way because she would say things like,

I really didn't think that girl was the type or little Lucy skipped town. You never know who you

can trust anymore. Then she'd close her office door and wouldn't come out unless absolutely necessary or until the clock hit five. Finally, the big day came. The sheriff's deputy showed up, but since no one was there, it just felt us to clean it out. We had maintenance help and whole things away. They were so rough on her belongings. I didn't stay long. I couldn't see a person's entire life being thrown into trash bags like that. I grabbed a few things of her to keep,

Debbie turned a blind eye. Just a few books, a denim jacket, and a necklace. I found line on her bedside table. It was a delicate gold chain with a small gold cross. I knew Lucy hadn't been particularly religious. In fact, I wasn't sure she believed in a Christian god at all with all of her new age books and Buddha statue, so I knew it had to be something from her past. Something she deemed precious enough to keep close to her.

It wasn't tucked away in a drawer hoping to be forgotten. It was where she could see it every night. I put it around my neck. I don't really know why. I guess because I missed my friend, and if it brought her comfort, it could maybe bring me some too.

But this is the part where I think you and your podcast friends would be interested.

You see, a couple of weeks after we cleaned out Lucy's place and had the whole thing cleaned, repainted, and the carpets replaced. A new tenant moved in, Mac, something. I was in the office at the front. It was about two in the afternoon. I can't even remember what I was doing. So funny. At the time when all this happened,

“I thought I'd never forget a single detail.”

I do know I was looking down because I heard the door open and since it was the middle of the day and most of the residents were at work, I just knew it was probably Mrs. Henderson. I'd brace myself and remember plastering a smile on my face getting ready to greet her latest tales of woe, but when I looked up, it was Lucy. I thought I was going to faint. I couldn't breathe.

Hey, Bridge. She said, you know I hate to complain, but my keys don't work. Oh, and someone is

parked in my spot, but that's not a biggie. It's not the first time. But the key is, I don't know if

it's because it's hot or maintenance changed them for some reason. They worked this morning when I left, but Bridge, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost. All I could say was Lucy. She smiled brightly, but I could tell she was uncomfortable. Yeah, what's going on? Is something wrong? Lucy, where have you been tears started forming in my eyes? I remember trying to blink them away,

but they rolled down my cheeks instead. I had the day off, so I went for a jog and then I had a certificate for this new sensory thingy. My rakey friend told me about, "What do you mean?" See, where have you been? I didn't know what else to say. I felt crazy. Lucy was starting to back away toward the door, but I couldn't let her out of my sight. I had to make sure I wasn't dreaming or seeing a ghost, so I yelled for Debbie. I must have shrieked like a banshee because

“Debbie came bursting out of her office and Lucy looked terrified. Bridge, what the hell?”

Debbie started until she saw her, too. Lucy, where have you been? Why is everyone saying that? I haven't even been gone for the whole day. Did something happen to my apartment? Why don't my keys work? You guys are freaking me out, man. I wasn't even the one to tell her. Debbie finally said, "Lucy, you've been gone for three months. Your apartment?" Someone else lives there now. Without a word, Lucy stormed out of the office.

I followed her. Debbie stayed behind. I don't know why. She was marching to her apartment. I had never

seen her mad before, but she was furious. Lucy, wait! I called, but she ignored me. I didn't want to draw a crowd, so I had just nervously followed her all the way to apartment 208. She tried her key again, silently fuming when it didn't work. She lost it. She started pounding on the door out of frustration. That's when Mike something opened and said, "Can I help you?" That part is a blur. It all happened so fast. Lucy pushed past him. He started asking me what the

“hell was going on. What kind of place was I running to just let crazy people bother the residents?”

Why hadn't I called the cops on her? He was going to call the cops himself. All the while I couldn't take my eyes off Lucy. Who had a horror fat look on her face? Her eyes is biggest saucers. She looked around, seeing that none of her things were there. She touched the breakfast bar where the rotten bananas had been, and opened the bathroom door to see it was absent to all of her oceans and potions. Mack something was still yelling, but through it I only heard Lucy.

entire side of the story everything I've told you up until now, and when I asked her for her as she

said, "I already told you. I got up, I went for a jog, and then I remembered I had a gift certificate for a sensory deprivation tank. It's this thing. They filled with warm salt water and you float in the dark, and it's supposed to take meditation to a whole other level." Well, I guess it kind of did.

“We talked for hours and circles. Was there anything out of the ordinary that morning?”

Is she sure she didn't take any drugs? Did someone slip her any drugs? Is she injured in any way? Does she have any other memories? Nothing. She was the same Lucy who had left her house that morning several months ago. The only difference was. She said it was hard to get her car to start, but like her note pad said, it had been making a funny noise already, so she figured it was just that.

I offered to let her stay at my place that night. I know it was something I would have never

done in any other circumstance, and you shouldn't either. But what could I do? Let her sleep in a park after she went through whatever it was. The last thing I remember from the first night was

“after, of course, I made up the couch for her with fresh linens. I was about to give her some privacy,”

but as, as I turned to go to my room, she looked at me. Her usual smile and carefree face strained with horror and worry. She said one thing to me, she said, "Bridge it. Where did I go?" All I could say was, "I don't know, but we'll try to find out." I know you have a lot of questions, but please save them until the end. It's been a long time since I've told this story and I don't tell it often, so it's hard for me to stay in order if you interrupt. But we can take a little coffee

break. Would that be nice? So, Lucy stayed with me for a few days. While I was at work, she poured over books and searched the internet and library for possible explanations. We both begged Debbie to help her get her apartment back or even a new one, but evictions don't care about mysterious disappearances, and neither did the owner of the property. It was a no-go, but I told her she was welcome to stay with me for the time being. She borrowed some of my clothes, though. They weren't

exactly her style, but they were fine until we could get her to the store. At work, Debbie became an earworm of doubt. She was convinced Lucy had to be lying, but she had to have gone somewhere. People don't just disappear, she was sort of a hippie after all, and they're known for being a little transient. Maybe she had tripped really hard on acid and couldn't remember anything. If I were you, it asked to look at the camera. She said, "What cameras?"

At that place, she said she was going to. I guarantee you'll see her go out to her car and drive off. No way she just popped up in that place and walked out like nothing happened.

So, I did just that. It took some convincing, of course, but I finally got the security guard at

the building until let me see the tapes. I convinced him, but well, tell him the truth, but I sort of spun it in the way that I thought Lucy was a crazy liar, and I wanted the tapes for proof.

“Luckily, guard in a building of mostly medical sweet seemed to be a pretty boring job, so I think the”

guard was just championed at the bit for anything interesting to do. Lucy had been able to tell me what day she disappeared, because you had to make an appointment for the sensory deprivation tank, and she had written down the date for me in case it would help and he investigated and I did well I was at work. While we watched those tapes, I admit I started to feel like a fool. As the guard fast forwarded to the correct time of day, we saw Lucy's car enter the park in

the car. She parked a little far, which is actually because of me. I had picked up this little exercise

in a little more calorie burning in your normal routine. Silly, I know, but I remember sharing it

“with her, and her power walk in the video up to the door warmed my heart a little. I was thought”

she was so cool, and I was so plain, seeing that she actually took a little tip of mine. Well, Cosmo's, but still felt nice for some reason. Anyway, we watched her go in and the guard sped up about an hour. Neither of us was sure how long sensory deprivation experiences last, so we just guessed, but nothing. So we went in 15 minute increments, but still, nothing. We moved on to the next day, and there sat her car in the same spot. And Lucy,

never came out. We sped through the rest of the week just in case and rewatched the original day.

Nothing. It was like she vanished into thin air. She went in and never came out. I gave him the date of her most recent reappearance, and there she was. Same clothes, same demeanor, if not a little more relaxed, walking out to her car, which took a while to start, then she drove away. As if nothing was a miss. I grilled the guard about back entrances and side doors. He insisted that any other entrance was alarmed, and would go off if he didn't have a key code.

“Of course, he was also in shock at what I had just shown him, how did a girl just disappear?”

Was she living in this building for three months? How could he miss that? I left him with his musings and headed to the sweet containing the time travel machine that Lucy had apparently stepped into and asked around. I wish it was more interesting, but the woman the front desk admitted that they leave their clients alone for 98% of their appointment. They shower themselves, they get in the tank themselves, and when they leave, they usually check out, but since you pay before,

some people just sort of slip out. I asked if they found her clothes or if anything was a miss, but three months later, no one could remember. Some of the staff had also been overturned, so they weren't even employees yet. I insisted they must have found a whole set of clothes or a whole woman squatting in their business suite, but they just looked at me like I was crazy, so that people leave their clothing behind all the time, so it wouldn't be strange to find,

and they had no idea how a woman could have lived there. Oh, and you bet I hauled about what I'd seen on the tapes, they'd had enough of me at that point and asked that I leave.

First and only time I've ever been asked to leave any establishment. When I arrived home,

Lucy practically tackled me at the door. Time slips! I was in a time slip! She explained how she found stories of people losing hours, even though it only felt like minutes, or even people realizing they were walking around in the wrong year, like these women in France, who found themselves at Versailles, with Marie Antoinette herself walking around as if she hadn't been beheaded hundreds of years before. Okay, but none of these people were gone for as long as you were.

“Hours is not months. Yeah, I don't know. I just want to know where I was. Where did I go?”

Lucy, I have something to tell you. I said, and I proceeded to tell her about the tapes. I confessed that I was skeptical and I apologized profusely through tears. I told her Debbie was convinced she was just a drugged out hippie who was taking advantage of me. I don't know what I told her all that. It made her so sad. If only I had known that.

That night, we didn't speak much after that. I never realized how hurt she would be having known.

I didn't believe her. If only for a few hours. But it makes sense now looking back. She had gone through something so inexplicable, so bizarre. But at least she had one person who was with her. One person to take her in and believe her story when no one else would when she had lost everything she had. I'm sorry. Let's just move on. The next night, when I got home, Lucy wanted to talk to me and I, for once in my life,

You deserve to know more about me. I was thinking about it and of course you have to help.

“We hardly know each other past pleasant small talk around the apartment complex.”

So here it is, just in a nutshell. My name is Lucille Marie Franklin. I was born and raised in Oregon. I moved to Texas about four years ago to get away from my ex-husband and my entire family. They are insanely religious and look, just imagine me in a prairie dress making butter on a farm. That was who I was.

Not this urban hippie you see before you. I came to Texas because I wanted whatever the

opposite of where I grew up was. Just a whole new beginning. I don't really have close friends. I'm sort of afraid to get close to people. I have a lot of acquaintances. I refer to as friends, but well, no one exactly came looking for me while I was gone. Did they? And I haven't had anyone to call since I got back. I don't mind starting over with nothing. I've done it before. I can do it again, but I did not run away for three months.

When I ran away, I make it permanent. That's sort of a joke. You can laugh.

For some reason, her speech made me remember something. The necklace.

“I handed it to her and she was moved to tears. Bridge. This is the only thing I have left of the old days.”

My mother gave it to me. I miss her every day. I tried to get her to come with me. As much as I've left that whole life and religion behind, it's the one thing I mourned when you told me that my things have been thrown away. You have no idea how much it means to me. How did you know to save it? It just seemed special. I said, would you look at the time better wrap up the store for you or

we'll be here all night? We spent a week together. A wonderful week, laughing and cooking and

“I think for once, Lucy felt like she had found a friend at least I hoped so.”

She came up with the idea. The idea to go back to the tank. I didn't want her to. Why try to fate? I thought our time together would show her. She should just move on. Rebuild. We made great roommates. I told her, maybe her old job would even take her back if she told them she had a medical emergency the whole time. But the missing time still consumed her. It killed her that she didn't know where she was. She started to worry,

she just didn't exist for a while. Really dark stuff if you put your mind to it. I was terrified, but I convinced myself that lightning doesn't strike twice and I agreed to go with her. The staff found it odd that she wanted me in the room with her and luckily didn't recognize me as the crazy woman from the week before, but we made up something about medical assistance and they let me through. Lucy showered and I stood by waiting. I anxious but still telling myself,

I would be walking out of here and an hour with my friend. She didn't actually need help, but she took my hand as she lowered herself into the tank. She was wearing nothing but the necklace her mother gave her. You know, it felt like a baptism in a way. Like she was going to be reborn out of that tank as the new Lucy, the one with a solid home and a laugh and loved ones. But after the time was up, Lucy didn't come out.

line at the bottom of the tank. I scared as I was of the unknown. I tried to tank myself several

“times over the years until, until that place closed, every single time. It was just some warm,”

salty water and darkness. Lucy was nowhere to be found. I kept this job all these years.

The one I never wanted. Because I've been so afraid that she would come back and not know where to

find me. So here I stay and will stay until they cart me off. Like I said, sometimes laugh feels like it was just supposed to turn out different. We worked in silence for the rest of the night. I left that job a year later and for all I know. Bridget is still there. You find yourself frencing an apartment that a place called the regal and you see her. Say hi. You'll know where by her big broaches and her sweater sets and a little gold cross. She wears around her neck.

“This episode is brought to you by Obsession. Focus features in Blum House invite you to the most”

shocking and unsettling big screen horror event of the season. Obsession. Everyone wishes for someone

to love them, to choose them, to need them. But what happens when you get more than you wish for. On May 15th, experience director Curry Barker's Nightmarish vision that has critics and audiences absolutely obsessed. It's twisted and sinister. Brilliant and insane. You have been warned. Obsession is blood-soaked Nightmarre fuel and with a rotten tomato score of 96% fresh. It's destined to become an instant horror classic. The best horror movie of the year is obsession.

Be careful he wished for. Obsession, rated R, under 17 not admitted without parent. In theaters everywhere May 15th, get your tickets now. With special engagements in Dolby, rotten tomato rating is of April 24th, 2026. Hi my name is Trevor. I'm from the acquisition department here at the Antiquarium. The Antiquarium.myshopify.com is truly the hub of the Antiquarium experience. If you've been listening closely, you might already know some of the items don't

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what ifs into with Shopify today. Sign up for your $1 per month trial today at shopify.com/tash.

“That's exclusively for you, the Antichrain Visitor. I believe it's what they call an anagram.”

I might be using that word totally wrong, but go with me. Shopify.com/tash. That's shopify.com/tash. Enjoy the lot you're about to be taken home today. And remember, no refunds, no exchanges. Thanks for listening and this is where I'd usually think my author, but that's me. So thank you to Rosemary for your consultation skills a few years ago and for the inspiration

of this story, you know, I've been asked before where I get my ideas for stories or, you know,

basically where I, my garner inspiration from. And sometimes it's talking to your friends about

their jobs or their past jobs in this case and some of the things that have happened during them. Yeah, and sometimes it's just living places and I currently live in an apartment building and I have

within like inches of each other through a wall and you usually don't know your neighbors. I know

“that's not the truth for every place and every, you know, everywhere in the world, but it does”

happen a lot. I can only speak, I guess, for LA, that you just a lot of times don't know your neighbors. And you don't get to know people. Sometimes I've had some weird runs in apartment buildings with neighbors or with apartment managers and they just seem like they're right for, for imagination, for stories, for, you know, strange things happening in them. It's a lot of people find it unsettling to have a setting that's like a house in the middle of nowhere and a for sure that

is unsettling. But, and I'm sure some of you have lived in apartments. I've felt this before. Like, I've thought, especially my old apartment where it was, it was pretty sure it was haunted. And I thought I would have these thoughts at night when I was by myself just like, okay, well,

what do we do? What do I do this for? I even had like a cat and my ex was never home. And so I was by

myself a lot and it'd be like, well, what happens if there's an apparition that just shows up in my room? Where do I go? Who do I tell? Do I knock on my neighbor's door? You know, it felt so isolating. It felt like you were in the middle of nowhere, but you're not. So I guess it's still, it's not as scary because there are people around, but I would also witness things happening. And you know, they hear about the bystander effect. And that would definitely happen. There were times

I would call 911 about really like a something violent happening in my parking lot. I lived in many bad areas over the years. And no one, and assuming someone has to have called because I just saw this,

“but it's clearly been going on for a second. And no one's called. No one's said anything, you know?”

And it's, it's really interesting. It's sad in a lot of ways, but yeah. So there's, there's that. And yeah, time slips. People disappearing. It's absolutely, it's, it's so fascinating, so fascinating. So let's see, I leave you with that tonight. Did I do any, oh, please follow the show on Instagram. Yeah, follow there. I'm scared you to sleep. It's mostly the social media I go to these days,

but join the Facebook group. Everyone in the Facebook group is amazing. I should stop by the

Facebook group more often and pop in, but I feel like you guys don't even need it. It's a whole ecosystem on its own. Like it's, it has nothing to do with me anymore. Not nothing, but you know, I feel like you all have your own thing going on. And I don't want to ruin the vibe by showing up and being like, hey guys, it's me. I do want to let you know when there's new episode, but you know, just, I don't, I don't know. So go join the Facebook group, follow me on Instagram. Again,

that's where I post mostly. You can follow the show at scary to sleep. You can follow me personally at Shelby B. Novac. I just posted us a video today of a PR package. I got my first movie PR package. I admit I got so much like, I was green with envy because everyone in this industry I know is

gotten like a cool horror movie sent out the coolest PR packages because they're always themed and

they have neat things. Some of them, it's like, like, for the evil, when that show evil was out, they were sending out like whole cakes and you know I got jealous about people getting entire cakes and not me. And like they just send cool stuff. So I actually got sent a package from sent help. And so there's a video I do an unboxing, unbagging of the whole thing. So go check that out. It's on Instagram. It's on my personal and on scary just like, and it's on the bloody disgusting podcast

“Instagram page as well. And what else? Patreon, patreon.com/gariousleep. If you want to go”

the next, the final part of Ted the Caver will be coming out next week. So if you'd like to go catch up on all those parts while you're waiting for the last part, go to Patreon and you can get ad free episodes there as well. Let's see, what else? What else? What else? What else? Spaking Corner? I didn't do any baking this week. I was very, very busy with day job things. I guess that's what I can call them day job things. Yeah. And so I was very busy

I'll convince my mom to bake something with me. I used to love baking with my mom and I never

gets you any more. That or she gets it there and relax while I bake something for her. That's also cool. I'm trying to think of anything else that I'm missing, but I'm supposed to send you towards

“that taponing. And I can't think of it. Remember, check out Antiquarium of documented atrocities. They”

also have the Antiquarium of sinister happenings, which is also a fiction show. Just like this one.

So if they have a bunch of voice actors and things, it's more traditional. One. Mine's weird. And yeah, tell your friends about this show. By the way, I would love, you know,

it's a roller coaster of a game. Sometimes the numbers go up. Sometimes the numbers go down.

And that's okay. And I know what I've signed up for, but I haven't made a call lately to send out any promotional like to promote the show. And so if you could just, you know, tell your friends about it,

“tweet about it, do people tweet? Still, I think they do. Instagram about it. Tell your professor.”

Tell your mom. Tell your uncle. Or anybody who would you think would like this show. I would really appreciate it. Yeah, send them my way. Thank you so much. Oh, there is a new hot sauce episode of the bloody disgusting podcast if you'd like to see me eat so much hot sauce. Actually, that was another thing that kind of took me out a little bit on Monday or Tuesday the day after. I ate so much Carolina reaper sauce right in a row. So much Carolina reaper sauce.

And I thought I was going to die. So yeah, if you'd like to watch me eat very, very hot sauce, go check out the latest episode of the bloody disgusting podcast, where we discussed the movie

“star eyes, which is just, I think one of my favorite horror movies and also eat a bunch of hot”

sauce. Check it out. So yeah, I think I'm done yamoring on. So go get some sleep. Sweet dreams. . [BLANK_AUDIO] [BLANK_AUDIO]