I have a fair number of experiences, but I'd like to share the one I think about most.
My earliest memory is really described best by my 6-yeard-old self: bees! For a long time (at least months, perhaps even more than a year), when I would go to bed, I would stare anxiously into my dark bedroom waiting for the most exciting thing in my young life - something that made going to bed the most special part of my day. As I said, back then I'd say 'bees', and frankly I still love saying it, but the actual manifestation was this:
The room would go quiet - I couldn't hear the insects outside or the big furnace outside my door. Then the room would fill will dozens of lights of various sizes; some would be as small as a penny, some as large as a golf ball, but most were the size of bumblebees. They didn't have obvious features at all - no wings, appendages, faces, etc. They were just softly glowing lights that drifted, flitted, or danced around the room. They weren't just non-threatening, they made me extremely happy. I'd laugh, reach out to them, and just watch them play* until I eventually fell asleep. I never got out of bed, and I don't recall they ever attempted any meaningful communication with me. They didn't arrive from anywhere - they just faded into view; I never questioned it then, and now I'd say it was like my room was overlapping with a place where they already were. I never saw them leave, as I always fell asleep with them present.
Even more vivid in my mind is the event that marked the end of the bees. I was in bed, as normal, waiting for them, and something else happened. The room went quiet as normal, but instead of bees I heard slow footsteps from the hall. I watched, stunned, as a young woman walked around the corned and strode right into my room. She was young - no more than 20. Brunette, shoulder-length hair. She was wearing brown cowboy boots, faded denim jeans, a red and black plaid shirt, and she was carrying a small brown handbag on her left shoulder. She had pale skin (not ghostly - it looked like she had the tail end of an old tan, in fact), large green eyes, a small, upturned nose, shallow cheeks and a strong chin.
Excell
I was terrified, but I want to stress that she was not threatening in any way. She never looked at me, but had her eyes pointed toward the window beside my bed. I don't think she was looking out of it, just in that direction. I watched her walk into my room and toward that wall, which would naturally take her right along the side of my bed. She was about halfway there when I got under my covers. I heard her walk past my bed to the window, then the footfalls stopped. When I looked out, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The room was normal, I could hear the furnace and crickets.
Now, it is not accurate to say I never saw the bees after that. However, it was no more than two or three times afterward, and it was never like before. They weren't present and vivid, but pale and seemed like they were far off, and they didn't play* like they did before. I had the feeling that they didn't see me anymore. My sightings of them were months apart and the first was months after seeing the girl, even though I tried and wished like only a child can that they would come back.
Seeing the girl makes no sense to me to this day. I actually would see her image again in a living, breathing person - the daughter of acquaintances my family made when I was 10 or 11. She was 18 and leaving for college, but she was darn near a clone of the girl, and the second (and last) time I saw her she was visiting her folks one Friday night and was wearing an outfit identical to the girl I'd seen years before. The confusion I felt seeing her still sticks with me. Every fiber of my being says that wasn't the girl I saw, even though the resemblance was uncanny, so that part I have to chalk up to a coincidence. But in that house I never had such an encounter again, and in fact I can't think of anything else unusual that happened there. We moved out when I was 10 to a small farm, where I would have heaps of unusual events in the house, grounds, and the forests, but absolutely nothing connected the bees or the girl with subsequent events in my life.
It left a very strong impression on me. Even 40 years later, I can see her as clearly in my mind as anyone else I've ever known. Heck, I think my overwhelming preference for brunettes is a direct result of this.
* When I say play, it's a rough translation of how I felt their behavior to be. I still feel that way, but the best way I can describe it more dispassionately is that they behaved like bumble or carpenter bees. Floating round, interacting delicately with each other - just more...ephemeral, I'd say.
