I am currently a 28 year old woman, University Professor, Business person, and down-to-earth. Nevertheless, I have a feeling that what we perceive with our eyes is not all there is to see.
Ever since I was a small child, I have been very sensitive to changes in "atmosphere", and a fan of the occult. I will tell of the time that I continuously lived with a ghost. It was somewhere between 1977 and 1984, while I grew up in Mexico City. We (my family and myself) lived in a well-to-do suburb, made up of mostly new houses. Some time after moving into this house (the second one we had in the city, and the one I really grew up in) I started seeing things.
The first experience I had was while walking through the second floor hallway. I turned to look into the library, which was right in front of the stairs, and a man was sitting on the couch, smiling wickedly, looking over to me. His face was burnt or decayed, I could not tell precisely what, it just looked hideous. I freaked out and screamed. My mother and sister were in the house at the time, my mom ran from her room to attend my call, my sister ran up the stairs from the kitchen. Neither saw a thing. The man had left by the time they were both by my side. The only evidence left was a mark on the couch where he had been sitting (I had stretched the covers that morning and no one had been in the library during the whole day). That night, my father arrived from work and, with laughter, my mother and my sister told him my experience. He did not laugh, but rather, took an incense burner into the library and performed a "clean-up." (Do consider, it is rather unusual for a business man to do this, at this time my dad was very involved with Eastern Philosophies and several martial arts. He is very down-to-earth as well, just like any common CPA :)). The man left for a few days, then came back, through the closet, in the hallway, I could sometimes hear him walking or coughing. He always looked the same, I always felt uneasy. A couple of years after his first appearance in the library, I woke up three nights in a row (per chance close to midnight) to find him looking down at me, just standing next to my bed. He was dressed with a dark overcoat, and strangely enough, a dark hat. I never had the courage to speak to him, he never opened his mouth, just stared. Later on, my sister and mother stopped laughing at my experiences. My sister would always speak of goblins in her closet, things would fall off tables, and my mom would hear things. None of us were ever hurt, so we learned to live with the ghost. We never found out who he was. The only thing we knew about the house was that it was built by an architect who finally decided to leave the country and never occupied the house. We were the first inhabitants in that house. We left sometime in 1984 when we moved to another city. The man never followed us.
I still see things sometimes, displays of the "paranormal." Still, this growing experience has been the most important one in my life. Living with a ghost can make a person perceive life in an interesting manner... you never really see all there is to see, unless something opens that "third eye"...