Editor’s Note: 4/20 content is a part of The Sun’s joke issue and contains exaggerated and factually inaccurate information.
Students reported thousands of paranormal activity sightings and widespread possession all around campus on Monday morning, all stemming from the return of a familiar campus character: the bear skinned in a Ganędagǫ: Hall kitchen.
The bear, who was skinned on Sept. 6 in Ganędagǫ: Hall, has largely remained out of the minds of students for over six months until Monday, when a random slew of sightings of the infamous slain mammal put the campus at a total standstill.
Numerous students on North, South and West campus reported waking up around 4:20 a.m. after dreaming of being chased by a familiar bear.
Iden Doit ’29 reflected on his bearish nightmare in an interview with The Sun, indicating that out of nowhere, he dreamt of fearing for his life after being chased by the ghost of the slain bear.
“I really don’t know what happened, but out of nowhere I just started being chased by a bear,” Doit said. “And the bear was saying, ‘I’M BACK, I’M BACK, I’M BACK, I’M BACK,’ thousands of times, until I ran into a kitchen and was cornered onto a table with other bears with forks and knives.”
Don Teiétme ’26 recounted what he saw outside of his dorm after waking up from his nightmare.
“I had a terrible dream last night, but immediately ran outside of my dorm to try to escape the bear that was in my head,” Teiétme said. “Upon leaving my dorm, I saw hundreds of possessed students running like bears on the grass roaring together and chanting ‘he’s back, he’s back, he’s back! I can feel it!’”
The Sun was not able to confirm the exact number of students who were acting like bears or experiencing “bearish” nightmares in the early hours of Monday morning.
After students woke up, new problems arose after hundreds of other students were unable to go to various dining halls on campus, as meal swipes continued to be rejected.
“I was swiping, as I usually do, and it did not go through,” Idon Hunt ’28 said. “After trying a couple more times, the screen said ‘IF THE BEAR CAN’T LIVE YOU CAN’T EAT.’ I don’t think that was a University-sanctioned message but I feel like someone is messing with us.”
Amai DePrublum ’26 also recounted issues trying to buy food on campus, explaining that after trying to access Big Red Bucks, the amount listed in her account was just “BEAR.”
At 9 a.m., a message sent by University administrators acknowledged the paranormal happenings across campus, noting that it was nothing out of the ordinary and students should not be worried at all.
“The University is aware of several reports of paranormal activity, and the community should be well assured that ROARRRRRRRRRRRORORRRRRR GRRRRRRRRRR RORARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR GRRRRRRRRR,” the statement reads.
Iken Buleivdis '29 reflected his concern about the University message.
“I was very confused and I thought somehow that Touchdown was in control of everything,” Buleivdis said.
Immediately after interviewing Buleivdis, The Sun contacted Touchdown for comment, who expressed deep concern about how the possessions negatively represented the bear community on campus.
“Roar roar, roar roar roar, ROAR, roar roar, grrr, roar,” Touchdown said. “Roar roar, grrr, ROAR roar roar, ROAR ROAR ROAR ROAR, GRRRRRRRR!”
After the seemingly endless possessions on campus, hundreds of posts appeared on Sidechat from students after each 10:10 a.m. class on campus presented an identical lecture on the moral implications of skinning bears.
After being let out from class, thousands of students, faculty, administrators and staff uncontrollably — and quickly — bear crawled towards the Arts Quad to meet a familiar foe.
Out of nowhere, the ghostly figure of a bear appeared in the middle of the Arts Quad, descending from above, eager to bring the campus community together to express its dissatisfaction for its untimely demise six months prior.
“Roar,” the ghost bear said.
“When I heard what the ghost said, it brought tears to my eyes,” said Ema Wreć ’69. “Even if none of us knew why or how we got there, we all felt terribly sorry for the bear.”
Immediately following the bears’ emotional message, the thousands of community members repeatedly chanted “We’re Sorry” for four minutes and 20 seconds, with many weeping together in the process.
With thousands of students — and even Touchdown the bear — simultaneously crying, the ghostly mammal flew up to the heavens, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Immediately, the tone on campus changed.
“I guess all he needed was an apology,” Wreć said. “He did all of this paranormal stuff just to get closure on this. That's so deep.”
University administrators sent an emotional statement to Cornellians following the sendoff of the ghostly bear, expressing gratitude for the community coming together and uniting over a shared purpose.
“While many of us are confused as to what — if anything — happened today, one thing that the Cornell community should know is our shared appreciation for bears,” the administrators wrote. “We feel terribly sorry for the trauma caused to the skinned bear, and know that we will do everything in our power to protect Touchdown. You have our word on that.”
Barré Keiler is a third-year studying paranormal activity and bears.
4/20 content is a part of The Sun’s joke issue and contains exaggerated and factually inaccurate information.
