When I was 8 years old, my family and I had gone out to a nice restaurant for dinner on a Saturday night. We had just received our food, when the owner came to our table and asked my dad to take a phone call. I remember we were sitting at a round table and I said to my mom over my brother's head, that Debbie is dead. What is weird is that Debbie was my dad's daughter, from a previous marriage, whom I had never met, known about or anything. My father was 18 years older than my mother, which accounts for the age difference in the children. Anyway, my mom just looked at me like I was crazy. When my dad got back to the table the waitress was already wrapping the food up to go, he said to my mom they found Debbie dead. To this day I do not know how I knew.

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While I was stationed in Georgia, my family was living in Illinois. One night at 3:30 a.m. I woke up from a sound sleep and picked my sleeping daughter up out of her crib and took her downstairs. I held her for a long time. From the couch you could see into the kitchen and the phone hung on the wall. At the time I was not sure why I was sitting there other than I was waiting for the phone to ring. I remember laying her down on the couch and just staring at the phone, like I expected to see the receiver move when it rang. Just like it shows in the cartoons.

Finally at 5:43 a.m. the phone rang and it was my grandmother calling to tell me my step-father had died. I immediately made arrangements for leave to come home. When my ex-husband and I came home we stayed at his parents house. The morning of the funeral service, Troy was trying to wake me up and I would not wake up, because Larry (step-father) was sitting on the limb of a high tree making me promise him that I would take care of my mother.

In this scene/dream I was crying and yelling so hard that my throat was so sore. He told me I had to answer Troy now and to make sure I took care of my mother -- that she would need me more now. I instantly sat up in the bed and tried to tell Troy what had happened, but my throat was so raw when I spoke it came out all scratchy. Troy said he was just about to call 911 because he could not get me to move. He thought I was in a coma or something. It took me a good year to get over that one.

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When I came home from the Army I bought a house with my mom. My grandmother, who had lived with me my whole life, was also there as was my daughter. By this time I had already gotten divorced. Anyway, we bought this nice little old house in a country town with a lot of Indian heritage. So you know when you first move into someplace new you are not accustomed to the noises of the house. We have a breeze-way that you walk into and then a door that is an old farmhouse screen door that slams shut. There is no way for the door to stay open, unless someone opens it and keeps it open.

Anyway the first few weeks were okay, and then one night I heard my grandma talking. I jumped out of bed to see who she was talking to. My mom was at work, so I thought maybe my daughter had gotten up and I had not heard her. I came out of my bedroom and walked into the kitchen to see my grandmother at the door talking and saying "now listen either in or out." I thought ... okay, she is losing her mind. There was no one and she was talking to the damn door.

I didn't say anything to her, but the next day I told my mom. My mom looked at me like I had lost my mind. I told my mom that "no, mom, I swear grandma was at the door talking." So the rest of the week goes by and she does this every night. On Saturday night my mom was off and we were sound asleep. I woke up and heard grandma up again and heard my mom as well. I got up to see what was wrong. My mom told me that the door kept banging. Now I thought they were both nuts and needed help. I just shook my head and went back to sleep. I didn't pay any attention to them and their crazy noises.

Well let me tell you, a week later I was home alone and was watching TV. I had gone into the kitchen because I'd heard the door open and close, and thought someone had come home. I was carrying my black cat with me, and all of a sudden Bubba (the cat) freaked out and started hissing. He scratched me and arched his back and was hissing at the door. So now I really thought we were all crazy, even the cat. Well when my mom and grandma came home, I told them the story and apologized for not believing them. My mom said she had had enough of this. She went to the door and opened it and said to whatever or whomever, "Look you can stay here as long as you like, but you either have to come in or stay out. You have to stop banging the door, it wakes grandma up." The damn door never banged again.

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There is an historic restaurant called the Wagon Wheel Resort. It was a rather upper class place in the 70's and 80's, I guess. Scott Hamilton, the Olympic skater, trained there for awhile. I was working there cleaning up the restaurant. I always went in around 11pm or 12am. I didn't mind being there alone, I felt safe. I had heard the stories of the woman who haunted the restaurant, but I didn't pay any attention to it.

One night I was downstairs cleaning and I heard the chairs upstairs moving. I went up there and the chairs in the kitchen were all moved around. I put them back and thought that maybe I had just forgotten to do that when I was there earlier. I went back to cleaning, not thinking any more of it. I had forgotten all about it, until one Friday night, I was in the bathroom and I smelled cigarette smoke, and perfume. I thought, oh boy, someone was hiding in here, so I turned on all the lights, I had a toilet brush in my hand, but had no idea what I was going to do with it -- I guess scrub whoever was there. I went through the entire restaurant yelling "whoever is there come out." No one came out; I found no one.

The next day I went in and talked to the owner. He just laughed and said it was the lady who did not want to leave. I thought ... yea right whatever! So about two months later I was upstairs, again, in the kitchen and had just finished putting away the dishes that were in the dishwasher. I was about to go downstairs, when I saw the swinging door open coming into the kitchen from the south dining area. There was no one there. I smelled the smoke and the perfume, and I left. I got home called 911 and met the police there about 15 minutes later. The cop asked me what was wrong and said "you look like you saw a ghost." I said I did not see anyone, but I smelled them. I explained what happened, the two cops checked the place out, not a person could be found.

I asked them to stay while I finished up. We were all downstairs, the two cops and I and we heard the chairs moving up stairs. The cops pulled out their weapons and went up the stairs. No one wass there, but all the chairs had been moved. I quit that minute. I have never gone back: not even to eat. I call and get it to take home. But let me tell you ... I believe in ghosts now!

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I grew up on stories from my grandmother who believed that "your people come and get you when it is your time to pass over." 'Your people' being family and close friends who have already passed over. For two nights before my grandmother passed she had a party in her room. I would wake up every 2 hours to check on her, she was very frail and could not walk.

The first night I went into her room, her oxygen machine was going off. I looked and she had tied the damn oxygen tube in a big bow on the handle to her bed room door. I said grandma how did you do that? She just laughed at me and told me to say hi to Aunt Scottie and Uncle Fred. Now Aunt Scottie and Uncle Fred had both died before I was born, and I was born in 1965. I thought she was just oxygen deprived ... little did I know.

The next night I decided to stay up and sit in her room with her and about an hour after I laid her in her bed she started laughing and clapping and was just talking up a storm. What was really odd was that my grandmother was a woman of very, very few words. So to see her talk was a little frightening to me, and what was scarier was that she was telling stories of my brothers and I when we were growing up. Just like you would tell someone whom you had not seen in awhile.

All of a sudden she got up and walked to her door and tied the oxygen tube to the door handle again. I was so stunned I could not move. She had not walked in over 6 months. She weighed 83 pounds and I carried her everywhere. Earlier that day I had taken her to get her hair done. She was fluffing it and asking someone if they liked it.

I didn't know if I should call the ambulance, my mother home from work (she works 3rd shift) or what to do. I was just frozen. I very sternly told grandma that this was enough, it was late and she needed to get some rest. It was like I didn't exist. She was talking to Cockern, and my grandfather, and people I had never even heard of before. It was just weird.

So the next night all was quiet and I thought oh good, she will rest now. She passed over that night, when my mom came home, I told her about the two nights before. She said that my grandmother had told her all about everyone who came to see her and about the party they were having. My mom said to me now you see what she meant when she would tell you, your people will come for you. I still have not comes to terms with that one. I truly believe that they were there in her room with her for 2 nights before she died. If that made it easier for her, I am glad. I think I was so angry at how sick she was and so afraid that she was going to die that I did not recognize what she had told me my whole life.