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Below are my two strange occurrences. I don't know whether I'm attracting strangers from beyond, or if these things were brought about by someone who knew me before they passed on. I may never know. What I am absolutely certain of is that they DID happen, I didn't imagine either one, I wasn't half-asleep or hallucinating or drinking or on drugs and I am DEFINITELY NOT an attention-seeker. By the way, the second occurrence took place in the main floor apartment at a house on Lincolnway in Valpo. Lonely Lillian My husband, his family and I could hardly believe our good fortune when we were able to get a home in a nice, established neighborhood in Lubbock, TX, for only a fraction of what the surrounding homes, very similar in size and square footage, were going for. We'd been in the home about a week, and boxes (some unpacked, some thus far untouched) were all over the place, in nearly every room. My husband and I were both nurses, and he worked the midnight shifts while I worked swings, in order to avoid costly childcare rates. On this particular night, I had gotten home from work just as he was leaving for work. Both children (barely school-aged, at the time) were asleep, and I settled down on the sofa to relax a minute before plunging into yet more unpacked boxes. I was flipping channels, disgusted with the late-night barrage of infomercials, when I glanced toward the hallway from where I was sitting in the den. As I looked back toward the TV, I thought "What?", and looked toward the hallway again. There, just inside the top of the door, was a bright, pure white, glowing/pulsating circle. It just hovered there. I forced myself to look away, thinking it must be a car light from out front or something, and was trying to calm myself. Then I forced myself to look toward the door again, and it was STILL there, still glowing. Then, like a streak of lightning, it flew down the hall toward the children's rooms. I hopped up off the sofa and flew down the hall in the direction I'd seen it going. Nothing. Two children, fast asleep, no light, no anything at all. Normal. I decided I was tired from the move, and had imagined the entire thing. Turned off the TV, turned off the lights, and went to bed. A few nights later, I was again flipping channels, and this time conked out on the sofa. I remember waking up but not opening my eyes, and thinking "If you DO open your eyes, you may see that light, again." After a few seconds, I couldn't stand that thought any longer, and opened my eyes. Yep. It WAS there, right where I'd seen it before: white, round, and glowing like an ember. Only this time it only took the thing a second to take off down the hallway, and I watched as it went THROUGH the front door, out into the night. Now I was shaken. What was wrong with me? Was I having seizures? Was I losing it completely? What in the world was up? I couldn't be sure of anything, except that maybe I really was going crazy. A few more nights went by, and thankfully I didn't see the
thing again. Finally, my husband and I had one night off together. After we got
the children down for the night, we settled into the den to watch TV. I had been
thinking about mentioning this, but honestly didn't want him to doubt my sanity
as much as I was beginning to. In the end, I couldn't keep quiet and I asked
him, "If I tell you something seriously, do you promise not to have me locked
up?" He shushed me, saying he wanted to see the end of the After the night of our discussion, I didn't see it again. It was a relief, in a way, but left me curious as to why it had shown itself to begin with. At any rate, several weeks later, hubby was alseep in bed one night, as were the kids, and I was perched on the sofa watching "Nick at Night". I must've fallen asleep sitting up on the sofa. I woke up being tickled behind my right ear. The tickling moved around the back of my neck and ended after briefly ticking my left ear. My first thought was that one of the kids had gotten up for a drink, and decided to tickle Mom. I turned around to "catch" my tickler, and NO ONE WAS THERE!!!! I don't remember my feet hitting the floor until I was half-way down the hall, and I burst into our bedroom and yelled "It touched me! It tickled my neck!!" He literally hopped up from the bed and ran back into the den, with me right at his heels. We checked every room in the house, every closet, even the garage, and of course, the kids' rooms. They were asleep. No one else was around. All the doors and windows were closed and locked, as usual. At last, he sat on the sofa and said "Go tobed. I'll stay up for a while and see if anything else happens." I have no idea how I went to sleep that night, but exhaustion finally won. After that night, I decided the prudent thing to do would be
to find out about the previous owners of the home. We'd gotten the house from a
realtor, and hadn't really discussed who used to live there before us. I
casually asked some of the neighbors, and found out that there had only been one
family in the home before us: the house was built in 1972 and a man, his wife,
and their mildly mentally retarded son had lived there until the Not more than a couple of weeks later, I saw the "glowing thing" again. This time, foolish as I felt, I asked the thing aloud: "Is that you, Lillian? Don't be sad. We are going to take good care of this house." I swear the thing glowed more brightly for an instant, and disappeared. DIDN'T zoom to any other area of the house, as I'd always seen it do before. This time, it just disappeared. I felt even better after that, with some sort of "normal" communication having apparently been established. I didn't see it very much after that night. Sometimes I had the distinct feeling that I was being observed, but I never saw my observer. My hubby frequently reported that he'd come home from work early in the morning to the smell of bacon cooking and the sounds of pans and pots rattling, only for the aroma and sounds to disappear as soon as he stepped foot into the kitchen. About a year later, we had the opportunity to move out-of-state, and I knew that Lillian knew we were leaving. Sadness could be "felt" in every part of the home. The last time I left the house, I told Lillian good-bye, and that someone new would be coming to care for the home. I've never seen the white, glowing ball again. Margret H.
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