In the cold winters when I was young, I'd play in the basement of our home. My Lionel train set was on a large custom table down there, and I'd spend hours with it.
But sometimes, in a certain spot, I'd get a sudden chill, and be overcome with fear, and the sense that I was being watched. I'd run up the stairs screaming, and flee into my mother's arms, telling her a ghost was downstairs.
Year later, when I was 19, I had a very bad motorcycle accident. It disfigured my face, and caused brain damage that prevented me from ever playing the piano again as I once could, and it greatly reduced my mental abilities.
Falling into depression, I attempted suicide several times, in that same basement. Needless to say, I didn't succeed, never able to go through with it.
Nearly 20 years later, my younger sister told me some family secrets I never knew, told to her by our late mother. I was aware our grandfather had died 2 years before I was born, from a stroke as I was always told. My sister now said that wasn't true, a lie the family had concocted.
He had in fact hanged himself in the basement, in the very spot where I always felt those cold chills. And in the same place where I had attempted my own suicide.
I can only imagine my mother's emotions, when I'd come screaming out of that basement, telling her there was a ghost, in the same place where her own father had hanged himself. But she never said a word to me, only sharing the secret with my sister many years later.
I'm still not sure I believe in ghosts & spirits, but some things do make me wonder.