“My best friend’s dad, who was a second father to me, came to me in a dream and told me to tell my best friend that he loved her and that he was sorry. I woke up to my cell phone ringing to find it was my best friend absolutely hysterical telling me that he finally passed away from sclerosis. I sobbed all day. He was a drunk our whole lives but it still hurt.”

“When I was between the ages of 4-6, I used to see a little blond boy through this mirrored armoire in my parent’s bedroom. The armoire was big and wooden but had mirrored accents and mirrors running all the way around the base. If I laid on the carpet in front of it and looked into the mirrors on the bottom, sometimes I’d see a little blond boy in a red sweater in the corner of the room, far away and a little distorted but still very clear. He would sit with his back to me, looking out the windows to the backyard. I don’t remember ever seeing his face.” (cont)

“In my little kid mind, I thought I invented this super neat mirror trick by myself, so I tried to get my parents to see it too. They always refused and my mom especially would get super mad at me for asking. I stopped seeing the boy when I stopped playing in their bedroom as much and knew mirrors shouldn’t work like that. When I got older I chalked it up to my overactive kid brain. Didn’t think much of it tbh.” (cont)

“Now we could say that it was just wind but all the doors and windows in the house had secure locks and would stay locked at all times since my grandfather would wander off or forget to lock his doors. All the doors and windows burst open and at that same second may grandfather, who was facing the front door says “what took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you” with a smile. My mother and I didn’t see the person my grandfather talked to but I’m sure that he saw his wife.”

“Years later, when I was an adult and long after my parents had sold that house, my mom asked me about the armoire out of the blue then told me that she used to see the little boy too. Not in the mirrors but sometimes just out the corners of her eyes (like she’d be cooking and catch a glimpse of blond hair pass by her hips, at a kid’s height) and occasionally in dreams. It didn’t happen too often but just enough to deeply freak them out. So when I mentioned seeing the same little boy, my mom was just terrified herself.”

“I must have been about 5 or 6, I woke up in the middle of the night and felt uneasy. I was never a good sleeper and would call for my mom if I felt sick, so that’s what I did. I called for her and then noticed someone in the corner, in a white nightgown, holding what looked like a mug. I genuinely thought it was my mother and asked, “Mom, what are you doing in the corner?” The figure did not move. I asked it again and when I had no response, I just went straight back to bed. You’d think such a thing would scare a little kid, but I felt a sense of peace about it all.” (cont.)

“Then years later, I must have been about 19 years old, I saw a psychic. I remembered that night, but thought it was just sleepy imaginative kid brain until this psychic woman repeated the events of the night back to me: you woke up in the middle of the night, someone dressed in white was in your room in the corner, you thought it was your mother and tried to speak to it, then peacefully went back to sleep. DAFAQ?! She then said, it was your grandmother, the one who you are named after (yup) and she was there to let you know she’s looking after you.”

“When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time at my grandma’s house. Both of my parents worked long hours, so her place became like a second home. She was a tough old woman. Rail thin, but strong. Sometimes I’d watch her going about her routine and wonder if she was some kind of a witch. She just had a witchy way about her. But, of course, that might just be what resourcefulness looks like to a kid.” (cont.)

“My great grandmother, she died when I was twelve- everyone in the village knew her as “mother”. Due to a divorce, I lived with her for some years, she was awesome. She existed on strong cigarettes, whiskey and cheese on toast. She was about my height of 5ft 2 and so so thin. Born in 1899, she had cancer and a hysterectomy in the 1930’s, not only did she survived but she kept on kicking ass. In her seventies she broke a leg having got on the roof to fix a tile! Old Welsh nan’s are a very different breed- perhaps they regress to Celtic tribal behaviour lol.” (cont.)

“Anyway, her house didn’t help. It was old. Everything in it was old, and it was dark. I don’t know how best to describe it other than to say I always felt that being inside my grandma’s house wasn’t much different from being outside of it. In any season the windows in the house would stay jammed open with old, bent screens, which had to be shimmed into place with old slats from some discarded louver door.” (cont.)

“Grandma had this rusty potbelly stove right smack in the middle of her bedroom. I remember constantly dodging it as I ran through the house playing. At night, she’d load the stove with one great big chunk of hickory, and you could see the flames licking through the cracks. I’d lay on the floor with my sleeping bag, positioning myself so that the stove was in between me and grandmas bed. Facing this direction meant that I could easily see the window at the foot of her bed. It was like a night light for me. Everything in that house was black at night unless there was a window nearby.” (cont.)

“So, there I lay one night. It was chilly, and I remember having trouble sleeping because the moonlight coming through the window was so bright. It was late, which meant the stove wasn’t roaring anymore. Besides my grandma’s breathing, the whole house was dead silent. It was just the two of us. No one else was in the house.” (cont.)

“Without any warning, a tall black figure calmly walks from the shadows at the far side of the room. He passed between the stove and bed, across the floor just a foot from my head, and out through the doorway into the kitchen. I was petrified. Couldn’t move an inch. I don’t think I fell asleep that night. All I remember is staring at the kitchen doorway, for a long, long time.” (cont.)

“When my grandma woke up, she rolled out of bed and grabbed the fire poker. I sat up and began to tell her what I’d saw. Like I said, I always felt like my grandma was a little bit witchy. After I finished telling her about the tall man, she just poked at the coals in the stove and said, “Hm, haven’t seen him in a long time.” She did mention, “George,” more when I was older. It was her way of explaining something strange. George was blamed for near everything that sounded, or looked, off. She never gave an explanation further.”

“After she died, when I was eighteen I saw her. I was going through a terrible time, I rushed into my nan’s house ( mother’s old house) to grab a key, turned around and there she was. She was wearing her favourite slippers, tartan skirt and one of her aprons- this one was blue with tiny daisy’s on it. She was as real as anyone else but disappeared after a few seconds.”

“I used to do pest control. Went to a customer’s business for the first time. As I walked in the office I noticed some pictures that were supposed to be hanging on the wall were on the ground and then saw some papers which looked like they had been thrown and scattered off a desk. I picked everything up so I could apply treatment to the floor boards and surrounding rooms. I then went to treat the only restroom in the office, as a courtesy I knocked on the door.” (cont.)

“There was no reply so I applied treatment and I closed the door behind me. As I walked away I KNOW I HEARD somebody grab the door handle, twist it open and open the door. I turned around and looked to see nobody behind me but a door swinging open. I grabbed my shit and ran down stairs. The receptionist saw me and started laughing. She asked me if I had met “Their little friend upstairs”

“When I was 16, an uncle (dad’s brother) passed unexpectedly. Weeks later, I had a dream about him and he told me to quit smoking cigarettes. A month or so later, I mentioned the dream to my parents and my dad started crying, got up, and walked away. Apparently he’d dreamed of talking to his brother too, and he’d told my dad that he (uncle) needed to talk to me.”

“My grandfather loved my grandmother a lot. He would constantly tell her she was beautiful and would always do embarrassing things to make her laugh. Unfortunately, she died a few months after being diagnosed with cancer. This affected him a lot but as time went on he came to terms with it. My grandfather lived on for another 18 years. In his final years, he developed really bad Alzheimers that led him to forget that his wife had passed away and would often call for her or ask us where she went. We’d explain to him that she had passed away but it always made him distressed and upset so we decided to tell him “she’ll be back soon” every time he asked where she was.” (cont.)

“A month or so before my grandfather passed away, I was at his house with my mother and we were all sitting in the living room. My grandfather who was seated on his chair all of a sudden starts frantically asking us where my grandmother was. We calmly explained to him that she’ll be back soon and she was just out doing some chores. Unlike most times, he was being persistent on wanting to see her. We explained to him again that she’ll be back soon but he kept getting more persistent. He started to frantically call for her. He screamed her name as loud as he could over and over again until out of nowhere every single door and window in the room flung open all at once.” (cont.)

“When I was about 9 years old, 1995, in the middle of a bright summer day, I went to the refrigerator to get a popsicle. Suddenly a roughly teenage-looking guy, with long brown hair, wearing a beige turtleneck and red plaid bell-bottoms, turned around the corner into the hallway to my left, then vanished from toe to head as I looked at him. I told no one about it for years, until after my mother mentioned meeting the (now grown) kids who lived in the house before us, who asked her if she’d seen “the bell-bottom ghost.”