This question comes from a dinner party my parents went to where the hosts threw it out to the table. And I decided to steal it to throw out to all of you!
I don’t necessarily mean ghosts like big spooky killer ghosts in movies, just any kind of ghost. Personally, I definitely believe in ghosts.
I’m staying right now in the house that has been in my family for 4 generations. Or 5 I guess, since my cousins have babies now. Anyway, I am surrounded by ghosts. Partly ghosts of dead people, but also ghosts of memories.
For instance, working in the kitchen and suddenly almost seeing my 5 year old self smiling back at me from the stool. Or, sitting around the fireplace and almost seeing my great-grandmother (who died before I was born) sitting in her favorite chair.
Or, the most recent “hey! you’re dead! Go away!” moment, my mother said she was thinking of taking the oil painting of my great-grandfather down from over the fireplace. And since then, she has suddenly lost a tablecloth, her glasses, and the fittings for the new curtains she wants to put up. He is not someone who takes lightly to being forgotten, alive or dead.
How about you?
dontcallitbollywood 
Oh yes, I definitely believe in forces coming from dead people – good and not-so-good ones 🙂 … responsible for kind of influencing people’s behaviour and incidents happening to people.
Kamoshi…ha! I just wrote something about Tere Naam and voilà , Salman’s love interest also plays a role in this movie. I’ve to watch the trailer…
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There are many agonised souls out there, and when they get a medium to communicate (which is what they usually lack), they are referred to as ghosts. I believe in their existence and had a rather worse experience in a village near my hometown.
Three years back, I and my friends went to that village to attend an event. That night, after having discussion on every silly and serious things around, we decided to sleep. That night, we heard a woman and a child weeping. It was so agonised, that none of us could ignore it. But we could spot none. It was not possible to find any person around that time or a house nearby, as we were in the fields. The air was full of dread and we started to leave on our bicycles as we heard the weeping louder and louder, and steps following us.
We were roaming everywhere and were finding shadows behind us, in streets where dogs alone must be residing at that time of the day. We managed to rush to a temple of Narasimha (Half man half lion form of the Hindu God Vishnu. He’s a deity who has got his own fascinating legend). There the priest permitted us to sleep there that night (it is one of the traditions to give shelter to devotees and outsiders in temples) and we narrated our happenings clearly. He said that during the construction of a well, a labourer and her child died and turned into ghosts, creating nuisance for many. We were petrified, thanked the Lord for giving us shelter that night and left the next morning for our home. Now, no incidents are reported for the last 1 year, especially after a very auspicious (that’s what the locals call) night when people heard a woman crying aloud “Let me go, I no longer belong here”.
Hence, I don’t wish to say that deities and ghosts do not exist. Hope you find my experience interesting. Would like to hear from you, if any.
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Oh, I definitely find it interesting.
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We lived for a time in Jamaica, in a little house made, it seemed to me, of palm fronds; one room with a kind of open-pit kitchen out back. There was a hammock for my husband and, oddly, an ornate double bed with a carved Victorian headboard for me and the babies, ages 2 and 4. One night, a woman came in the door; no lock, no door really, just a flap. I said, “Who are you?” She shushed me, came over to the bed and sat. The mattress sank; the springs squeaked. Then she leaned over me to get a look at the sleeping boys. Alarmed, I repeated, “Who are you? What do you want?” She smiled and patted my hand. My husband woke up and and wanted to know who I was talking to.
‘”That woman.”
“What woman?”
The next morning, everybody said, like it was nothing.
“Yah; fe tru. Dat be Gramma Tasia. Yuh cyan keep her down.”
Grandmother Natasha had died some years ago and roamed the family compound sticking her nose into everybody’s business just as she had done when she was alive.
I can still feel her very cold hand against my skin.
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I’m a universalist, so I believe all souls return to God eventually. Not really understanding what that means with my limited monkey brain, of course.
But I do think people leave energy behind in places where they’ve stayed a long time, or where something significant happened to them.
In a house we lived in while I was in college, I had two experiences with different energies. The first time, I was cooking dinner at the stove, and a little girl ran past me, laughing, and tugged on my long t shirt. I didn’t see anything, but felt the breeze from her passing, her tug on my shirt, and felt joy with a touch of mischief.
The second time I had just laid down for a nap one afternoon. (I was awake, this was not a dream.) My bedroom was at the top of the stairs. No door, the stairs just came into the room. I was facing away from the stairs. No one else was in the house. I heard steps on the stairs, and felt the presence of a young man, maybe 30 years old, kind but curious. The footsteps continued across the floor to my bed, and then I felt a hand on my shoulder. Not cold or warm, just pressure. I was so scared, I thought to myself, “I’m just going to fall asleep and maybe he’ll be gone when I wake up.” And I did, and he was.
After that I was mindful that we weren’t really alone in the house, but thankfully I never felt that the “spirits” took much interest in us.
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Italians have an expression, “tra’veglia’sonno”. It can mean half-awake, or that semi-conscious state between awareness and sleep which is neither, but a different level of existence altogether. You must have been floating around in there, looking fly, when the young man approached. As to the little girl, it’s the same thing. When I’m cooking, I sometimes zone out. My hands are working but my brain enters a different plane. That’s where you were when the little girl ran over to say Hello.
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That’s a lovely expression. Quite possible!
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