Encounters With the Unknown

Compiled by Brent Raynes

Exclusive personal narratives of men and women from all walks of life detailing their first-hand experiences with unexplained phenomena (i.e., extrasensory perception, UFO encounters, contacts, ghosts, hauntings, Bigfoot sightings, angels, demons, etc.). These detailed accounts are taken from our own case files and correspondences, as well as those collected by the UFO Contact Center International.

Note: Unless express permission is given to do so, identities of those sharing these personal experiences is not provided in order to protect their privacy.

Personal “Ghost” Stories

Back in December 1984, a correspondent named Julie shared these personal “ghost” stories with me.

“I’ve had so many experiences with them since I was a child, and all my adult life, that I hardly know where to begin. One interesting story involves the old house we bought and remodeled in Pomona, California. I saw any number of spirits or ghosts there. A few times I was laying in bed at night when I’d see this old man go through the wall on the opposite side of the bed. When we got around to painting the bedroom, we found that a door to the kitchen had been filled in just where this old fellow would always go through. Another thing that happened to us there was this. We couldn’t find things even though we were certain that we had put them in a certain place. A case in point. I bought some oil colors, or artist paints in tubes, and canvas, and I was going to try my hand at oil painting. I placed the oils on a shelf in a spare bedroom and propped the canvas up against the bookcase. When I went for these artist’s supplies the canvas was there but the paints were gone. I searched everywhere for them and couldn’t find them, becoming increasingly more angry and frustrated I might add. Then I gave up the notion of painting and went on to do something else. I didn’t go into that bedroom until the next day or maybe the day after, and there the oil paints were - right on the book shelf where I knew that I had put them. This happened with all kinds of things - my husband’s tools out in the garage workshop (and he is very neat, puts things where they belong, etc.) It would happen with an article of clothing one of us wanted to wear - even shoes and jewelry. We’d always find it later - just where we knew it should be but not there when we wanted it. This never happened to us in any other place where we lived. It nearly drove us batty. On the other hand, if I needed something to repair an article with - just the right piece of wood, a dab of wall paint, a certain type of lubricant, hardware - nuts, bolts, screws, nails, a small brush one time - they would mysteriously appear - just what I needed. I didn’t even have to voice my need.”

“The spook I saw in the Pomona house was an old man dressed in work clothes. A kindly enough spirit. I only got fleeting glances of him. He had a field day hiding our stuff from us for sure.”

“I’ve seen ghosts in every place we have lived. They seem to be benign - no bad feeling coming from them. Most of them do not pay much attention to me. It’s like they are there and I happen to be able to see them but they don’t have any business with me as a rule.

“One exception is the old house we lived in when we were in South Carolina. It was out in the woods. We were not in it long when I saw another old man dressed in old time clothing. He had a small boy with him dressed in an old time boy’s dress up suit. The suit was sort of beige color with a black pin stripe and he had a big black bow where a neck tie would be. The old man was dressed in black and he looked very grumpy and bad tempered. He came very close to my face and said to me, ‘You’re nothing but a damn yankee and I’m gonna kill you.’ This was sort of disturbing. Another time, this old man seemed to be in an old time carpenter shop with old time woodworking tools and a lot of shavings on the floor that looked like curls from a child’s hair. He came over to me and pressed a dowel against my throat with a look of hatred in his eyes. I shouted for Andy and he came running into the bedroom. He said I had a red place on my throat and indeed I did - and it stayed for about 3 days. We moved out of that back bedroom into a front one. That back one was cold as ice anyway and we both got a strange feeling from it. The entire house had a ‘bad’ feel to it. I only glimpsed the old guy after that and always said a prayer of protection whenever I did. We both surrounded the house with white light and kept blessing it whenever we thought of it. I did get very sick there and almost died - not that I blame my illness on the old ghost - but I can’t help feeling that he didn’t want me there and wished me no good. He did not bother Andy at all, that we know of. I was delighted when we moved out of that house and left South Carolina.”

“When we lived in that house in Pomona, California, we got word that my uncle who had raised me had passed away in Indiana. We packed up and flew back. We had to get his estate in order and sell the house (right on a lake) which we did. It was hard to do as there were so many memories there of so many glorious times on and in the lake as a kid - boating, fishing, swimming, etc. One night as I lay in bed almost asleep I heard my uncle’s voice say to me, ‘Be careful of the tires.’ We planned to drive his car, a Valiant, back to Calif. I knew it was my uncle as he had an accent, being from Europe, and he raised me so why wouldn’t I know his dear familiar voice. I told Andy and the following day he took the car to the place where my uncle had purchased it and asked them to check out the tires. He told them we were going to drive to the coast and wanted to make certain that the tires were okay. The mechanic told Andy that the tires were fine and should last for a long time. We settled things there, had a lot of stuff sent out by moving van and proceeded to drive out to California. It was very hot in August so we went north and up into Canada too. We came down the coast from Vancouver and were in The Delles, Oregon, when we stopped at a filling station to get gas. The attendant told us that somebody must have slashed our tires. We got out and looked and all four looked like they were slashed - yet different - more like they all started to peel apart at once. We had to replace them right then and there. When we looked in the trunk at the spare it too was all jagged. We thought maybe we could get by with buying three tires and use the spare. We were sure puzzled and the attendants eyes were as big as saucers. The year was 1968. Later a friend who was a big car buff told us that the year of the Valiant, I think about 1960-62, had recalled the vehicles because of defective tires. My uncle probably never heard of this while he was alive and did not have it done.”

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