I saw a ghost when I was 3. Remember it like it was yesterday. It came out of the closet, it was a mist in the shape of a person. It floated over to my sister's crib, she was around 2 years old. It leaned over the crib and looked at her, then started coming toward my bed. I screamed bloody murder, even though I didn't really know what a ghost was. My dad came running into my room, turned on the light and it was gone!

Many years later, my dad was dying of cancer and moved back to the old house my grandfather owned in Baltimore, where I saw the ghost. Eventually, he sold the house and bought a condo. One day when I was down there visiting him, we drove past the old house and stopped out front. I said, "I wonder if that ghost is still there"? My dad said "yes, he is still there. He used to play games with me when I moved back in. I'd be at my desk writing and run downstairs for a snack. I'd purposely leave my pen and paper in a particular spot, and when I returned, it was always moved. He told me he "ran into the ghost one night out in the hallway". He never went into detail about it.

Weird, the person that acted like "Whaaaaat!!! There's no ghosts, go back to sleep!" when I was 3, now fully admitted there was a ghost all along.