All right; here are my small contributions. In 1970 I was a student in college, and about two in the morning, I heard my mom open the bedroom door. I was awake by this time and before she could say anything to me, I knew what had happened: my grandmother, her mother had died.
Later on, she tried to pooh-pooh it, telling me that it must have been on my mind or something, but it had not been. I believe that I finally half-way convinced her that there was no way that I could have known that. In any event, I am convinced that my experience was paranormal, as there was no way that I could have known that.
The second story.
Both of my older brothers are retired cops, and this story takes place more than 25 years ago. We were in the house that my mom and I had recently bought, and we had two small dogs. We had just moved in to the house and the dogs were just going positively crazy. Dennis had come over to see us, and we were all in the basement, when we heard something upstairs. This made the dogs go even crazier, and so Dennis and I went upstairs and checked it out, with our guns drawn. We didn't find anything that time, but both Mom and I kept noticing things missing, or misplaced.
Later we heard rumors (never confirmed, BTW) that the house had been built over an Indian burial ground. That was in the Pacific Northwest, and soon after that, we sold the house and moved back to Kansas. That had nothing to do with our move; I was transferred to Wichita by Boeing.
Later on, she tried to pooh-pooh it, telling me that it must have been on my mind or something, but it had not been. I believe that I finally half-way convinced her that there was no way that I could have known that. In any event, I am convinced that my experience was paranormal, as there was no way that I could have known that.
The second story.
Both of my older brothers are retired cops, and this story takes place more than 25 years ago. We were in the house that my mom and I had recently bought, and we had two small dogs. We had just moved in to the house and the dogs were just going positively crazy. Dennis had come over to see us, and we were all in the basement, when we heard something upstairs. This made the dogs go even crazier, and so Dennis and I went upstairs and checked it out, with our guns drawn. We didn't find anything that time, but both Mom and I kept noticing things missing, or misplaced.
Later we heard rumors (never confirmed, BTW) that the house had been built over an Indian burial ground. That was in the Pacific Northwest, and soon after that, we sold the house and moved back to Kansas. That had nothing to do with our move; I was transferred to Wichita by Boeing.