We used to live in a battered women's and children's shelter when I was young, because my father was looking for us (ugly divorce, Alabama gave him custody, mom took us to WA). One night, I looked in the mirror and saw a kind looking man, that I can only describe as a ghost, appeared at the end of my bed. He was there all night, but gone when I woke up in the morning. Then, the next night, and the next night. He was there every night for four months. We never talked, he never moved. Just stood guard.
Then, one night he woke me up from my sleep, and I'll never forget how surprised I was, because I'd never seen him move or talk. He said, "He's coming. Get out now." So we packed up the car and left to a hotel for the night. The next morning, we went back to find out someone had broken in and gone room to room looking for someone.
I never saw him again after that.
