nemss said:
I'll share my story, from last night.
Last night, me and my fiance went to the local bar down the street to eat and watch some baseball. We've lived in our house about 5 years now, and have never experienced anything out of the ordinary. Last night, we come home, unlock the door, and both of our dogs are greeting us at the front door. We then hear our sliding door in the basement close. It didn't sound like the door was loose and closed a little, it was loud enough for us to hear it upstairs.
Of course my fiance is thinking there's someone in our basement, so I go downstairs, and see the door is closed all the way (which never is, its a sliding door that leads to the laundry room). I move the door back and forth to see if I can recreate it, and the door has two spots where you physically have to push to get the door to move. So there is no way it just slid closed.
About an hour later, we're both laying in bed, and our bedroom door was closed. We're both reading on our Kindle's and we hear this loud bang on the other side of the bedroom door. It sounded like someone hit the door with the back of their hand with all of their strength. The dogs started going nuts, and it was a loud enough bang that it knocked some clothes we had hanging on the other side of the door.
I got up, opened the door half expecting to see someone standing there, and there was no one there. I double checked the house, went back into the basement to double check there. The doors were locked, our windows were shut and locked. I'm not sure what it was, but neither of us slept too well last night.
Set up a webcam and film your fiance standing over your bed for 4 hour stretches.
Edit (adding a story from the thread I linked to above):
It's close to Halloween, so I'll go ahead and tell this story.
When I was in college, I lived in a small apartment complex right next door to the main gates of Oakwood cemetery in Austin, Texas. Well, not -right- next door. There was an old house between us and the gates that had been converted into a tombstone business. Frequently, on my way to class, I'd go downstairs and encounter families standing in the yard next door, looking at all the tombstone samples arranged in the front yard. I just tried my best not to meet their eyes. Not the cheeriest pad I've ever had, but the rent was dirt cheap.
Aside from the tombstone-buyers, I wasn't too freaked out by the cemetery. I did have a couple of nightmares. Nothing horrible or distinctive. Someone dead inside the apartment. Someone who'd wandered over from the cemetery. I'd wake up, hear them coming in the front door. I'd try to turn on the lights, but they'd never work. I'd hear the dead person coming up the stairs to the sleeping loft. Then I'd wake up.
Anyway, a friend asked, just like you have, and I told him about the dreams and he said that they were wanderers. Since he knew I wasn't religious, he told me that before I went to bed, I should just say, out loud to the air, that nobody was welcome in my apartment who had evil intent: only friends were welcome.
I tried it. It seemed to work. I figured it was more me telling myself not to dream bad dreams than it was spirits listening in but whatever: it worked, the nightmares went away. And it took me a while to realize that they got replaced with something else.
I started waking up in a start, like you would from a nightmare, except there was no nightmare there. I couldn't remember dreaming -anything-. In fact, the weird thing was, I was waking up due to noise in the bedroom. I was getting startled awake by noises that I was making, myself. I was talking, but not in my own voice. Sometimes the voice was female. Sometimes it was male. Young. Old. Different accents.
Let me be clear: it was my voice, like if I was doing an impression of a someone. Sometimes I'd wake up to find my arms stretched out, or I'd discover I was mid-gesture of doing something weird, like I could never remember what I was saying or trying to say, but I would hear the last couple of syllables that had woken me up. Now happened a couple of times. Here...Inside...Out. They didn't seem connected. And I never woke up to the same voice twice.
Eventually, I decided to set up a recorder. Started it before I went to sleep. After a few nights, I got woken up and I was shouting, End or something, in some old guy's voice. Okay. What the hell. I've got the recording. So I turn on all the lights and start listening to it. I start from the beginning, and for a few hours there's just the hum of the ceiling fan, the air conditioning, rustling. Fast forward, fast forward until about an hour before I actually woke up from the old guy. There's this terrible noise. It's a baby crying. A fucking baby crying. For like ten minutes, lying in my bed dead asleep, I wailed like an infant.
From there, it was a succession of voices. Some lasted longer than others. None were actually intelligible as the recorder had been too far away, or maybe my head was buried in my pillow, I don't know. The last thing on the tape was the old guy's voice. He spoke for a little while; couldn't make out what he said. Then he just started shouting Friend! Friend! Friend!
