I couldn't deal with it if one of the people in the room was all clinging to some dumb theory and I couldn't just burst out with "Why so stupid?"

Oh, yes, this. I always think, if I just explain it clearly enough this dodohead will surely have a lightbulb moment and understand, but no. That never happens. The more sense you make, the tighter they hug their dumb theory.

I love people's ghost stories so much. I have none of my own.

I have a few.

Excellent news about T's dad! And Callaluna's mom, too!

What Zen said!

My dExH and I had some sort of trouble maker in our house in Stockton. At first it was scary and annoying. After a while, I just had to laugh and the antics went from torn up clothes and papers, open and dumped drawers to sunglasses set up in comical 'I'm watching you' poses and 'it's about to fall but you came just in time' stacks of things.

The best experience of a 'specter' was when I went to scatter my Great Aunt's ashes in Carmel. Long, long, sad, exhausting story shorter, I stumbled on to a place to do the casting and sat on the edge of a cliff shaking. I was so strung out with grief and anxiety.

Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me and turned to find an older man in an old fashioned suit...totally out of place on a cliff side hiking trail. He said in a lovely French accent, "Ah, I see you have found the beauty." Somehow, I felt perfectly relieved. I glanced at the horizon and said,"Yes it..." when I turned back a second later, he was gone. No one for a hundred yards in either direction on the trail.

Later, I remembered that Mary had a French suitor for decades. Maybe she sent him to tell me everything was okay.

If Mary had come herself, I might very well have pitched myself off the cliff. But, this man did not frighten me at all.

Nice! I like stories about friendly ghosts. And poltergeists - I've noticed from stories about them, they seem to escalate depending on the response to them. The sunglasses bit is funny. Melisa had one that followed her from one house to another. She called him George. Things would go missing and we'd look and look, and she'd finally ask George to bring it back, and it would turn up in plain sight somewhere. The weirdest one was when a set of keys got lost. She asked for them back and there was an audible jingle in midair, and then a clank, turn around and there they are, on the coffee table. I don't know what happened to George; when things got really emotionally tense in the house, he seemed to go away and didn't come back.

I have a few.

I would love to hear more. I would LOVE a George; I am terrible about putting things back where they belong. This way, I could blame it on the ghost, and he'd find stuff for me. Nice.

It's not a spectre story, because it happened in broad daylight at the Staten Island end of the Staten Island Ferry.

I was on a business trip to Philadelphia. and one weekend I decided to take the train to New York to see Manhattan and do the tourist things. I rode the Ferry out to Staten Island and got off to wander around and stare at the Manhattan skyline and the ships. I was the only one around. On the other side of the parking lot, I saw an elderly Chinese man. He was dressed in an old-fashioned way, real old-fashioned. Long bright tunic, loose bright trousers, slippers, and the type of cap with a knob on the top you see in the old art. There was also an embroidered jacket with the typical embroidery and cut. He walked along slowly, bending down occasionally to pick something up and tuck it in his yellow shoulder bag. He saw me, stopped, and stared back at me. I thought I should feel bad about staring at him, but I figured as long as he was staring at me so blatantly I could stare back. We were probably 75 feet apart. I can't emphasize how much he looked like he'd just stepped out of a scroll painting.

As I heard multiple people say that day, "This is New York, I don't know how they do things in other places." Perhaps it wasn't odd for elderly Mandarins to wander around parking lots. But he finally turned and walked slowly away in the direction he'd come from.

I would love to hear more.

I have a couple really creepy ones, but most of mine are "there was a ghost, and then nothing happened."

Somewhere around here, there's an antique store in an old house in a rural area. Not sure where I came across it. House was probably built early 1900s, big common rooms, small bedrooms, odd layout, uneven floors. I wasn't in a hurry, so I wandered throughout the whole place. Hardly anyone else there, proprietor half-asleep. There was a big staircase going up, and a small staircase coming down. I went up and roamed around. There was one room left to peruse, a tiny room at the top of the small staircase. I felt it as soon as I crossed the threshold. It felt like the spirit of a young girl, probably not more than 14, just quietly lying there. It was very distinct, exactly like walking into a room and finding someone there. It wasn't scary at all, she was just there. There's no way to prove or disprove it; the owners didn't know the history, and with any old house there's a really good chance someone has died there. It's easy to dismiss feelings like that, but still, I don't walk around feeling ghosts all the time, so... I tend to believe myself. Others may not; that's cool.

I have a couple really creepy ones, but most of mine are "there was a ghost, and then nothing happened."

There were some freaky, freaky lights off in what was clearly National Park and not camp-able land earlier. So there was a thing and nothing happened. Unless I documented something bad. Which is possible.

Nothing happened and it was weird or something happened and that's kinda bad, it's a toss up.

I hope Son #1 takes the chance and steps up, Laura.

I have a couple really creepy ones, but most of mine are "there was a ghost, and then nothing happened."

Heh. That's maybe a good ratio.

That's maybe a good ratio.

Yep, I think so!

There were some freaky, freaky lights off in what was clearly National Park and not camp-able land earlier.

Were they round blue floaty lights?

On the other side of the parking lot, I saw an elderly Chinese man. He was dressed in an old-fashioned way, real old-fashioned. Long bright tunic, loose bright trousers, slippers, and the type of cap with a knob on the top you see in the old art. There was also an embroidered jacket with the typical embroidery and cut. He walked along slowly, bending down occasionally to pick something up and tuck it in his yellow shoulder bag. He saw me, stopped, and stared back at me.

Sometimes, you feel like you're looking at someone who's in a different time and place, and they're looking back at you, another stranger in weird clothes and the wrong place.

Yes! It was an affronted look, wondering why I was intruding on his world. It's my second favorite memory of New York (the first being watching the full moon rise behind the Empire State Building).