Well, I feel somewhat shy on the topic so I won’t be fully forthcoming, but I'll share what's easiest. Most of them are too fleeting to be super immersive in the telling of them and then there’s what’s too personal but the stuff from the house where we left a tape recorder to see if we could get anything concrete “captured” is a smattering of events.

First thing is with my family at my favorite uncle’s apartment where we observed an iron move across the floor by itself and stop and then go forward again. This crossed about a third of the living room’s area and the cord was wrapped around the handle properly. Also there, in that same residence was another not witnessed by me where my aunt tried to open a sliding door and it wouldn’t budge and then my uncles went to see to it and decided nothing was amiss, though it wouldn’t budge. As they were sitting down in the other room (in sight of the door) it slid open.

[Withheld due to being too personal about a relative’s death]

Next came dreaming a play visit with a nice boy near I was staying that summer with my father. I was 6 or 7 and I woke from my nap talking about the boy showing me his toys and wanting to see him again. My then step-mother was aghast as was her mother. I had been sleeping in my step-mother’s brother’s room, but not told until later that day when explained why I was not to say another word about the boy that he had died of appendicitis many years ago. It could be that I simply dreamt about a boy because I had been put down for a nap in a boy’s room, but the step-mother was freaked and her mother was angry and I have in adulthood dreamt of loved-ones who have passed away and experienced dreams with their presence which feel very different than simply dreaming about them. So, I dunno.

This place we lived for just two – three years was so common with stuff that we left a tape recorder out to see if it was trying to say something. The recording yielded only some sort of raspy sounds that are debatable. We were an odd unhappy family and a major thing we could agree on was the house. At first it was gorgeous and we loved it and then before long it felt weirder than we were—which is really weird. There, aside from sounds and senses, cabinets and doors would be opened and objects, never observed to have moved, had moved. In one example, my mother put my shoes on top of my desk while I slept and her on next trip down the hall she found them tied to the door handle. Everything I saw was merely in the peripheral except for once there was a silhouette of someone standing in the hall. It moved into the dining room and turned into the direction which only lead to a wall. When I finally summoned courage and backup to go into that room, enough had happened that I didn’t think for a moment there was an intruder. When I got my Garfield phone back, after being grounded from it, it range even though it was not plugged into the jack. Nope didn’t answer. I began asking (in my head) to be left alone and announcing myself as I went from room to room. So glad we moved again. The next house had none of that.

Next came my friend and I being typical teens, bored in Texas, so we visit a very old cemetery on a full moon. She’s a level headed friend who wouldn’t be damaging or disrespectful so this feels like a fun lark for us to walk around and do instead of the usual. It’s quite a drive, but that’s Texas and I’m thinking the age of the cemetery migh...

Well, I feel somewhat shy on the topic so I won’t be fully forthcoming, but I'll share what's easiest. Most of them are too fleeting to be super immersive in the telling of them and then there’s what’s too personal but the stuff from the house where we left a tape recorder to see if we could get anything concrete “captured” is a smattering of events.

First thing is with my family at my favorite uncle’s apartment where we observed an iron move across the floor by itself and stop and then go forward again. This crossed about a third of the living room’s area and the cord was wrapped around the handle properly. Also there, in that same residence was another not witnessed by me where my aunt tried to open a sliding door and it wouldn’t budge and then my uncles went to see to it and decided nothing was amiss, though it wouldn’t budge. As they were sitting down in the other room (in sight of the door) it slid open.

[Withheld due to being too personal about a relative’s death]

Next came dreaming a play visit with a nice boy near I was staying that summer with my father. I was 6 or 7 and I woke from my nap talking about the boy showing me his toys and wanting to see him again. My then step-mother was aghast as was her mother. I had been sleeping in my step-mother’s brother’s room, but not told until later that day when explained why I was not to say another word about the boy that he had died of appendicitis many years ago. It could be that I simply dreamt about a boy because I had been put down for a nap in a boy’s room, but the step-mother was freaked and her mother was angry and I have in adulthood dreamt of loved-ones who have passed away and experienced dreams with their presence which feel very different than simply dreaming about them. So, I dunno.

This place we lived for just two – three years was so common with stuff that we left a tape recorder out to see if it was trying to say something. The recording yielded only some sort of raspy sounds that are debatable. We were an odd unhappy family and a major thing we could agree on was the house. At first it was gorgeous and we loved it and then before long it felt weirder than we were—which is really weird. There, aside from sounds and senses, cabinets and doors would be opened and objects, never observed to have moved, had moved. In one example, my mother put my shoes on top of my desk while I slept and her on next trip down the hall she found them tied to the door handle. Everything I saw was merely in the peripheral except for once there was a silhouette of someone standing in the hall. It moved into the dining room and turned into the direction which only lead to a wall. When I finally summoned courage and backup to go into that room, enough had happened that I didn’t think for a moment there was an intruder. When I got my Garfield phone back, after being grounded from it, it range even though it was not plugged into the jack. Nope didn’t answer. I began asking (in my head) to be left alone and announcing myself as I went from room to room. So glad we moved again. The next house had none of that.

Next came my friend and I being typical teens, bored in Texas, so we visit a very old cemetery on a full moon. She’s a level headed friend who wouldn’t be damaging or disrespectful so this feels like a fun lark for us to walk around and do instead of the usual. It’s quite a drive, but that’s Texas and I’m thinking the age of the cemetery might promise neat statues. Music along the way, nice night, we pull up and hop out and are not but a few feet from the car when I see an odd fog (odd for the weather that night and no we’re not near swamps). I quickly register how swiftly it’s moving and she sees this too. We are both staring at this huge mass of grey and it’s moving fast – very fast I note again. “It’s actually headed in our direction”, I say. The moment those words escape my lips and reach my friend’s ears the mass drops lower like a swoop and is so much closer. I don’t think we had to consult one another with an exchange of “Let’s get out of here’s”, but we sure did. I can feel the fear flinch in my shoulder blades as I type this out, recalling that the wait for her to unlock the passenger side door felt so long and in that time the air pressure seemed to have changed right behind me. Then we were in the car, gravel spitting under rubber as we peeled away. So, there’s that one.

[ Withheld two due to being too personal about friend’s deaths]

In Vegas, a guy in a suit with something just so off about him that it terrified me more than the fact that he was there appeared in the room one night. He sort of mumbled and then when I found myself to terrified to call out to my friend. He said their name. Granted, we were having ourselves a bit of a time that trip, but we weren’t all Hunter S. Thompson about it.