I'm not going to start this story by declaring whether or not I believe. To tell the truth I can't decide, I just accept what I see, and hope to see more.
Most of these experiences happened to my best friend, Opey, in high school. I only witnessed one incident myself, though I would have liked to have seen more.
During high school, Opey seemed daring, carefree, and fearless - that's what was so appealing about her. I always knew deep down that there was something traumatic that drove her to be...difficult...but only had that confirmed years later. I figure that the ghosts in her old farm house clinged to her exactly because she was pretty...confused. Her mother admitted to me years later that the ghosts only came around when Opey was there, causing her usual trouble.
There are only a few incidents that I was made aware of, and they're not amazingly exciting, but somewhat humorous and hard to fathom nonetheless.
Her wonderful family lived in a farm house about 40 minutes away from any 'city' like place. It had been renovated numerous times, sometimes almost completely gutted. Her parents told me of finding old clay pottery and dishes in the yard when digging up for their pool. Perhaps these constant changes, coupled with a particularly difficult child, spurred on the resurgence of these spirits.
It started off small, as it usually does, with the old water gushing from the taps trick. The family would often wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of the tap in the sink or the tub running full blast, with no explanation from anyone.
Then other things started happening.
For as long as I can remember, Opey would recite prophetic dreams, only after they were confirmed to be true. Although she was a trouble maker, and often lied for the fun of it, I never doubted that these things occurred.
For instance, the family cat had been missing for a few weeks, and, since it had never happened before, they were naturally worried. One night, Opey went to bed and dreamt that the cat was lying dead behind the hedge, beside a tree stump. Low and behold, the very next day she went to that spot out of pure curiosity and found the cat lying exactly where she saw it in her dream - dead.
One Thanksgiving, her parents threw a large family party, and her uncle walked up to the stereo system to play some music. It was one of those early high-tech models that required three or four different remote controls to turn on and program. Well, by the time he picked a cd and a song and figured out how to start it, he turned around to return to the kitchen, and the minute he turned his back, the entire system shut down. He turned back to fix it up again, not thinking much of it, except the frustration of having to fiddle with all those remotes a second time. Once he had it picked out again, he stood enjoying it for a few seconds before turning to leave, and - you guessed it - it shut off again. It happened three times before the music stayed on.
There were never any truly exciting things that happened, such as actual sightings, but everyone knew of, and felt the presence(s) and spoke of them as members of the family. However, not necessarily in a comfortable way. In fact, they all said that they never felt comfortable alone in the house. I myself never felt anything either way, but I did witness one occurrence:
One Friday night, Opey's parents had gone out, and, as usual, a gathering of drunken teens could be found in her living room. We were drinking and laughing, playing guitar and singing along, when someone stopped the merriment with a shriek of amazement, claiming that a little bowl of decorative wooden eggs that was sitting on a speaker had just jumped up into the air and fallen down to the floor. It may not seem too strange, except for the fact that the stereo wasn't on, and there were no musical vibrations under the surface of the eggs to account for the movement. It happened a second time that night, not a half an hour later - just long enough that our drunken stupor had drawn our attention away from the eggs - at which point I managed to catch the movement in my peripheral vision.
I found out many years later, that that bowl of eggs was a veritable hub of activity. Apparently they used to always rearrange the eggs in the bowl, only to find them magically placed back into their original position moments later, then rearrange them again, as though playing a game with an unseen child.
The final occurrence that I'm aware of happened a few years later, when Opey was home visiting from University. The incidents never happened when she wasn't there, so when she came back to visit, the old feeling of unease in the house would resurface, and there would be a resurgence of activity. At this particular instance, Opey wasn't in the house, but she was in the area visiting friends. Her mother was alone, and searching for a cheque she needed in order to leave and run some errands. She had searched all through the house where she could remember being that morning. She then went upstairs to check her bedroom. As she turned the corner to her door she saw the cheque hovering in mid-air, and the minute she crossed the threshold, it began to slowly float down to the ground.
That's all I know about that. Opey seemed to be a magnet to the alive and dead alike. Lately, since I began reading ghost stories off of sights like these, I find myself wishing that these things would happen to me. But I know that when it comes right down to it, I would probably be too frightened, and maybe that's why they don't show themselves to me. But I sometimes get jealous of those who have been visited...hoping for just one sign from my grandpa, who just died, or my father's parents, who both died before I was born, just to know that they're happy and proud of me.