I've been experiencing things since I was about 5 years old. I will start with my first experience that I remember so clearly, I could paint a picture of it.
I was playing in my great grandmother's bedroom. She had old fashioned vents that you could slide open and look through into the lower level (ex: she had one in the attic and you could open it and look down into the living room below). I slid the vent in her bedroom open and looked down. I saw an elderly man in a hospital gown, sitting on a chair and watching TV. I was confused about why an old man was in my great grandmother's basement. So I went and grabbed my mother and told her what happened. We took turns looking into the vent and saw nothing but pitch black. I briefly described the old man to her and she pulled a photo out and showed it to me. I pointed to the man in the photo and told her that it was him. She explained to me that the man in the photo was my great grandfather. I remember we told several of the family about it, but nobody really believed me.
Recently, I brought up the memory to my mother one day and I told her I could paint a picture of what I saw because I clearly remember it. She asked me to describe it in detail. I was talking about his chair and she said, "What color were the arms of the chair?"
I said, "What do you mean? The chair was brown."
She said, "Was there anything on the arms of the chair?"
I said, "The only thing I noticed about his chair was the faded and worn places where his hands rested."
She immediately began crying, "There is NO WAY you could have known that!"
My great grandfather died when my mother was 16. He had a brown chair that he always sat in. He sat in it so much that he had worn places in the arms of the chair. My great grandmother had put yellow place mats on the worn spots to cover them up. I wasn't even thought of at that time. That's why she said that there is no way I could have known specific details about his chair.
I was playing in my great grandmother's bedroom. She had old fashioned vents that you could slide open and look through into the lower level (ex: she had one in the attic and you could open it and look down into the living room below). I slid the vent in her bedroom open and looked down. I saw an elderly man in a hospital gown, sitting on a chair and watching TV. I was confused about why an old man was in my great grandmother's basement. So I went and grabbed my mother and told her what happened. We took turns looking into the vent and saw nothing but pitch black. I briefly described the old man to her and she pulled a photo out and showed it to me. I pointed to the man in the photo and told her that it was him. She explained to me that the man in the photo was my great grandfather. I remember we told several of the family about it, but nobody really believed me.
Recently, I brought up the memory to my mother one day and I told her I could paint a picture of what I saw because I clearly remember it. She asked me to describe it in detail. I was talking about his chair and she said, "What color were the arms of the chair?"
I said, "What do you mean? The chair was brown."
She said, "Was there anything on the arms of the chair?"
I said, "The only thing I noticed about his chair was the faded and worn places where his hands rested."
She immediately began crying, "There is NO WAY you could have known that!"
My great grandfather died when my mother was 16. He had a brown chair that he always sat in. He sat in it so much that he had worn places in the arms of the chair. My great grandmother had put yellow place mats on the worn spots to cover them up. I wasn't even thought of at that time. That's why she said that there is no way I could have known specific details about his chair.