Do you believe in ghosts?
I like to think I’m a skeptical believer. I believe there is reason to believe ghosts (and other types of paranormal beings like demons and poltergeists) exist. I certainly believe that there’s more to our lives than this time on earth. So, yeah, it’s possible.
That said, I also believe most of the stuff we hear about is malarkey.
Now that’s established, let me tell you a little story.
In the past, things have happened here in my home that made me wonder. Like hearing footsteps downstairs and thinking my husband was home (he clomps around in his boots and makes a racket when he gets in…these aren’t subtle footsteps), going down to greet him and finding no one there.
Okay, maybe I was just hearing things. I can debunk that, or at least have enough reasonable doubt.
What about the time I was sitting at the breakfast bar working when the scissors leaped out of the coffee cup they sit in (along with pens and pencils) and landed about 4″ away from the cup with a clatter.
Okay, maybe the last time they were put there, they weren’t pushed in all the way, so a little vibration was all it took for them to fall out. Still not sure how they “fell” out 4″ away from the cup, but it’s enough doubt I can debunk that, too. Sort of.
But, yesterday something happened that I simply can’t find an answer to. Any skeptics out there feel free to give me ideas as to a non-paranormal reason behind this.
You see, I’d left the vacuum in the basement. I’d intended to vacuum down there on Monday, but ended up doing laundry which was sorted into piles all over the floor, so I couldn’t. By the time I’d finished that, I just didn’t feel like doing the vacuuming, so I left it down there to do on Tuesday. Of note: it was plugged in because I’d done the little that I could do around the clothing piles.
Tuesday morning, I’d been down to get coffee and take the dogs out around 4 a.m. Nothing out of the ordinary going on in my exceptionally silent house. Two hours later, I woke up my husband and went downstairs to start his coffee. A few moments in to doing that, I heard the vacuum start up. In the basement. Startled, I went down, flung open the door and discovered poor Dorothy on the back of the couch poofed up to twice her normal size, staring at the upright vacuum which was just sitting there. Running. It’s a Dyson, and the “on” button is at the top of the handle, not near the floor. I tried to think of ways Dorothy could have accidentally turned it on, but even if she’d jumped on the top of the handle (why would she?) the button isn’t that easy to push just by bumping it and, more importantly, it’s highly likely the vacuum would have fallen over onto its side.
I can not debunk this one. I am slightly disturbed.
What about you? Any ideas what might have happened? Do you believe in ghosts? Have you had any run ins with the paranormal? Do tell!