My father bought a 17th century mansion just north of Boston, MA. A couple of years later, he invited me and my two year old daughter to visit. He placed us in my brother's room for the night, sharing a bed, so my daughter wouldn't be frightened alone in a strange place. The room had two doors - one that led to the hallway, the other led to a wrap around 2nd story summerporch. The summerporch also opened into a sewing room, which led into the hall, that went to my bedroom and so on in a circle. I closed both doors before I settled down for the night with my daughter. Around 1am, I awoke, hearing the summerporch door open. I was quite surprised to see this very well dressed lady stroll calmly across my room, pause at the door and look directly at me, open the door and exited out of my room. I was convinced by this time, that I had been dreaming, but my little daughter piped up, "Mommy, Who was that pretty lady in our room?" The woman had been dressed in finely made 17th century garb, as though she was a wealthy wife.
The next morning, I casually mentioned my 'dream' to my stepmother, who immediately called out to my father, saying someone else had seen Elizabeth Fletcher, wife of the builder of the house. Elizabeth had died in childbirth at age 22 and was seen repeatedly throughout the years, walking her circle of hallway, sewing room, summerporch and bedroom forever.