I'll throw this one out there as I was indirectly involved. I have no reason to doubt the parts that I did not see, however I am sure there are other explanations for what occured. My sister and mother were shopping at Southcenter many years ago, at Willsons stationary I think it was called (ground floor near the Bay). My sister was in junior high and I in High school. Anyway they were in different aisles and suddenly my mom hears my sister scream. She had been grabbed by an old man, but not in an offensive way, he was having a stroke or attack of some kind. He fell to the floor pulling my sister with him, he wouldn't let go. She was horrified. My mother and others rushed over to help him. It seemed he wanted to say something but was unable, in one hand was his wallet, the other held tight to my sister. In some amount of time the paramedics arrived and took him to the hospital. My mom or someone else I don't remember, had gotten his name from his wallet in order to call someone I suppose. My sister was still very upset, she couldn't get over his eyes just staring at her as he held her.
That night I woke up in the middle of the night (I can't say 0300, as I have no clear recollection; but wouldn't that make it better?) to the sound of my sister screaming. Nothing wakes you better than that I assure you. I left my room to see my dad already on the way to her room. We rushed in and nothing was amiss, no intruder. My sister was sitting up in her bed, back to the wall, knees to her chest, soaking with tears and perspiration, shaking. When she finally could speak she said the old man was in her room, sitting in a chair. We saw nothing.
Sidenote: I am not a believer in the supernatural. I believe in humanity, that we must look to ourselves to find happiness and fulfillment in this life. That when we die, that is it, death nothing more. I think that is a terrible thing for many people and to believe in a higher being or afterlife is soothing. Perhaps all religion sprung from humankinds fear of death or the unknown. I can say that but here as I type about something that happened 25 years ago, I am shaking a little, hairs standing on end, and I have the urge to look behind me. A chemical reaction to a powerful memory? Or something else?
Anyway, my father sent me to my room and he and my mother stayed with my sister the rest of the night I was told. The next night, same screams, same result. She insisted when she awoke he was there in the same chair staring at her. My sister insisted that my mother call the hospital to find out if he was okay. My parents insisted she was having nightmares and to go to sleep. Third night same thing. My parents were losing patience along with sleep. We were both told to go back to sleep. I did but for only a while, then I went back to my sisters room. We always had a great connection, and she told me she wasn't dreaming it, that he really was there. She was so scared that I had to believe her. I stayed and niether of us slept. There was no way I could sleep I just watched the chair. I never saw anything nor did I feel anything. The fourth night was the last time. It happened again, but this time she said he did more than just stare, he started to get up, but that was when her screams had brought us all in. Again nothing to be seen other than a terrified girl. Finally that day my mother called the hospital, and afterwards told my sister and I that he survived and had been released. That night all went back to normal, no more screaming in the night.
Of course, I found out later from my mother that he died.
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