I moved into the second floor of my building about a year ago. A few weeks after moving in, I met a homeless man that sleeps at the back of my building in a doorway that has a small awning over it. Though his bed was on the opposite side of the building, he spent most of his time near the front entrance, trying to talk the residents of the building out of a few bucks here and there.
Most of my neighbors are the uppity sort who felt that this man was more of a nuisance than anything and often either ignored him or belittled him. This man was an obvious alcoholic who spent nearly every dollar he received on booze. And while the entire area around the entrance reeked of vodka every time he was there, he was still a human being and deserved to be treated with dignity. I felt adamantly that he should be respected and, though I didn't give him any money, I brought him down a plate of almost everything I cooked.
Because of this, he developed a particular affinity for me. Every time I brought him food, I would sit and watch him eat and this was a great opportunity for conversation. I learned all about his time spent in Viet Nam and his daily struggle with alcoholism, among other things. He made clear to me how much he wished he could reach sobriety, get a job, and no longer rely on pan-handling to survive. I also discovered how much he appreciated the home-cooked meals. I guess the local shelter served two meals a day, but the food was always past the "use by" date (it was all donated) and it was so horribly prepared that it bordered on inedible. So he appreciated the healthy, delicious (not to toot my own horn, but I am a pretty good cook), made-from-scratch meals I delivered to him. One night, mouth full of Chicken Tikka Masala, he said to me, "You know, you are probably keeping me alive."
Cut to one night, after a few months of knowing this man, I was walked home by friends after a late night of hanging out. We stood outside, near the door to the building, just talking and laughing before I went inside to bed. This must have been at about 2 in the morning. On the front of the building there are these huge windows that let you see inside the entire lobby area - the security desk, the elevator and stairwell doors, everything. In the lobby there are also two small bathrooms - one male and one female that have just a single toilet and sink (they aren't the ones with stalls that allow multiple people to do their business at the same time). After a few minutes of talking, I happened to glance through the windows to see the door to the male bathroom open and, standing over the toilet, was the homeless man. Though he was vomiting, it wasn't an odd sight because the security guards let him in the building to use the bathroom all the time. And yes, due to his alcoholism, he was often seen vomiting. This was something my snobby neighbors were particularly uptight about because they felt allowing this man into the building brought down the exclusivity and "richness" of not only the building, but also the neighborhood. While I saw their point, this guy was just a really nice guy who fought for this country and then fell upon some hard times. Let the guy use a bathroom, for crying out loud.
One of my friends, Craig, noticed the man vomiting as well, which prompted me to explain the man's situation. I turned my back from the window for a few minutes as I told Craig all about the man's time in Viet Nam, his probable PTSD, and his struggle with alcohol. Craig initially sided with my uptight neighbors, which made me speak in defense of the man. After a few minutes, though, Craig loosened up. Nearing the end of the conversation, Craig (who was facing the window, but was focused on me) looked up towards the direction of the bathroom. His face immediately went pale and his jaw dropped. I quickly turned around to see the bathroom door still open, but the walls smeared with blood. The man was slumped over the toilet, but appeared to still be vomiting.
I ran to the door and punched in my code. When I got to the lobby, I looked for a security guard. Not a soul was in the lobby (or even appeared to be on the main floor) besides the man in the bathroom and myself. I ran to the security desk and called for an ambulance. The operator made me stay on the line until the ambulance got there, though I so badly wanted to run to the bathroom to check on the guy. I periodically called out to him to ask if he was all right but received no reply. After a few minutes of this, a security guard finally appeared. He saw the activity in the bathroom without me having to say anything and ran across the lobby to help. He gently helped the man to the ground and called out that he wasn't breathing. He said he was going to try CPR but I stopped him and asked the 911 operator if he should with all the blood and fluids covering the man's face and chest. I had two people speaking at me at the same time - the lady saying he should not perform CPR because of the biohazard risk, and the security guard saying there was something hanging out of the man's mouth. He said he was going to try and remove it but stopped short, saying, "Uhhh, I think this is some kind of organ in his mouth!" I nearly fainted.
After about 20 minutes the ambulance finally arrived. EMT's rushed in, I explained everything, and one of them escorted both the security guard and myself outside. Once outside the building, my friends ambushed me asking all sorts of questions. I don't remember them, nor do I remember answering them. I just remember staring at my shoes for what seemed like an eternity. It must have been only a few minutes later that the EMT's wheeled the gurney out and into the ambulance. The man was on the gurney, but by the time I looked up, I only saw the back of the EMT's. And that's it, he was gone, and the bathroom was closed and taped over with "Caution" tape.
Two days later, I saw the same security guard and learned his name was Justin. I asked him if he knew what hospital the homeless man was taken to and if he knew his name because I wanted to visit. Justin said, "You didn't know? The guy died. The EMT's said he was dead before they got here. I am going to clear out his stuff from the back now." Though I was in shock, I offered to help.
When we were almost done clearing away his belongings, I found a framed picture of a much younger version of him with a little girl nestled in his blankets. It appeared to be his daughter. As I stared at the photo, Justin found a small book that appeared to be a journal. He asked if I wanted to read it, but it seemed like some kind of invasion of privacy so I declined. Justin apparently did not feel it was inappropriate because he read it anyway. There were multiple passages about a "nice young woman that brought me a plate of food." He said that every time I cooked, he ate like a king. He also said that he was so pleasantly surprised by our ritual of me cooking and him eating because he was used to being ignored or treated like a pest. Lastly, a lot of other passages stated how he yearned so badly for sobriety, but just didn't know how. He felt if he just had a little help, a little push in the right direction and someone, anyone in his life rooting for him, he could be sober. I started to cry because I remembered the piece of paper in my printer that had names of all the in-patient and out-patient treatment facilities in the area. The piece of paper I had printed over a week before his death, but had forgotten to give to him.
About three weeks after his death is when the activity started. I think the building I live in used to be some kind of dormitory because on every level, by the stairwell, there is a public-style bathroom. On one side of the bathroom sits five stalls with toilets and on the other side there are five stalls with showers. I am assuming when they remodeled it to be apartments, they put bathrooms in every unit (at least they did in mine), but perhaps didn't know what to do with the public bathrooms. I guess they just left them as-is, besides redecorating to make them a little fancier. They must have, because I can't see a dormitory having marble tiles on the floor and walls. No one really uses these bathrooms. I only do when I am leaving my apartment and it dawns on me that I have to pee (I am one of those types that always pees before leaving the house).
The activity started when I was in these bathrooms, on the toilet no less (can't believe I just announced to the world a ghost visited me while I was peeing). So there I am, goin' pee, and the door to the stall I was in starts rattling fiercely. The stall walls weren't moving at all, the ground wasn't shaking, and it didn't seem like an earthquake or anything. It went on for probably 20 seconds, giving me enough time to look under the door for legs that would indicate someone was banging on the door. It really sounded like someone banging on the door with all their might. Also, these bathrooms aren't really big and echo like crazy (at least they have the few times I have had company in there). I would have heard someone come in. But nothing clicked to indicate anyone was there. I quickly finished and ran out of the stall to look for anyone in the bathroom with me. There was no one, so I ran outside to look down either side of the long hallway and down the stairwell. Also deserted. I went back into the bathroom to wash my hands quickly and left, thinking my mind must have been playing tricks. I also want to mention that these bathrooms are directly over the bathrooms in the lobby.
A week later I was walking into these bathrooms again and heard a toilet flush. I didn't think anything of it; I just walked to the mirror to make sure my make-up was perfect. After a few moments it registered that no one had come out of a stall. I decided I should probably pee before leaving (as per usual) and went to check the stall that I believed the flush came from. The door was open, so I peeked inside and no one was there. I checked every stall only to find the bathroom completely vacant. I went into another stall, sat down, and did my business. Just before I moved to get up, THAT one flushed WHILE I WAS SITTING THERE! Safe to say I was pretty startled. My entire time of living there, I have never known these toilets to flush on their own. Especially not TWO DIFFERENT ONES. When I passed by the security desk, I asked them to ask maintenance to have a look at the toilets.
Two days after this, I was in the bathroom again. I was walking in to a stall (not the other ones I had used previously) and as I was pulling my skirt down, the toilet flushed again. So to recap: three different toilets have flushed on their own. I pulled my skirt back up (didn't want to get splashed again) and ran out of the bathroom and down to the maintenance desk. I asked when the maintenance staff was going to get around to having a look at the toilets and the security guard told me that maintenance had already done so. They apparently found that all of the toilets and their components were sound. I decided it was probably best for me to just use the bathroom in my apartment, so from that point on, I did.
I went nearly a month without experiencing anything abnormal. The next time I did, I was asleep in bed. I was awoken by a banging sound that appeared to be coming from my kitchen. I sat up, looked at the clock, and realized it was nearly 4 am. What on earth could be banging in my apartment at 4 am? I don't have any pets so I decided to check it out. As I was getting out of bed, I heard... Creeeak BANG! Creeeak BANG! I rushed out to my kitchen and found one of my cupboard doors ajar. At this point I instantly made the connection that it was the sound of my cupboard door being thrown closed repeatedly. I left the cupboard door open and went to check the rest of the apartment for signs of anyone there. I ran through every room and found that I was alone. Lastly, I checked the front door. It was still locked with that little chain lock thing that fastens to the doorjamb still in place. No one had been there because surely you can't lock the chain from the outside. As I was walking back to bed, I heard... Creeeak BANG! I booked it to the kitchen and found the cupboard door now closed and still no one there. Annoyed, I said, "Whoever you are, knock it off! A girl needs her sleep!" (with lots of expletives thrown in for flavor) and went back to bed. I didn't hear the sound again that night.
The next night I was in bed reading a book (it helps me get to sleep). I put it on my nightstand because I felt like I was getting drowsy, and turned off my bedside lamp. I nestled down in to bed and the second I closed my eyes, I heard MY toilet flush. Keep in mind, the entire time I have been in this apartment, my personal toilet has never flushed on its own. I must have been really sleepy because I ignored it and went to sleep. I wasn't awoken by anything at all that night.
I went about a week without experiencing anything. The next time something happened was in the early morning. I woke up in the middle of the night, probably by my bladder because the second I opened my eyes, I had a strong urge to pee. So I went into my bathroom, sat down on the toilet, and tried to pee. It took me a moment, but right when I got started, the friggin toilet flushed again. Startled out of my groggy state, I said quite sternly, "You know... There are more polite ways of getting my attention!" I went months without it flushing again, but out of curiosity I had a maintenance man come to my apartment to check the toilet. It, too, was completely fine.
I haven't had the toilet flush while I was on it after that incident. It was months before it happened again, but from time to time it will flush when I am off doing other things in the apartment. Now, I guess he is fascinated by the lights. I will occasionally have them turn off or on. Sometimes off and then on. We now kind of have this communication thing going where I will ask a question and the spirit will answer using the lights. I believed it was the spirit of the homeless man pretty much from the start, simply because of the timing of when these events started happening. It was confirmed (at least I believe so) by using the lights. I was standing in my living room with the lights off and said, "If you are the spirit of the man I used to bring food to, turn the lights on." I waited for a minute, kind of gave up on the idea, and when I was about to leave the room, they came on. I don't know, it could be a total coincidence, but I believe it's him.
I am submitting this experience simply because I need some help. I know how to protect myself from negative energies and all that, but I have absolutely zero experience in crossing spirits over to the light. I don't believe this spirit is evil or negative in any way, but he feels kind of... Angry? It may be my own guilt over seeing him die. He may not be angry at all, but he seems to like to annoy me or wake me up from a sound sleep. The fact is that in all the conversations I had with him, I never once got his name or gave him mine. I don't know his daughter's name or how to reach her. She probably doesn't even know her father died. I would like to help him in the one final way I can, so anyone with any advice would be greatly appreciated.
This man fought for our country and now he is just so... Anonymous. I am sure his death certificate says "John Doe" (do they even bother with a death certificate in those cases?) because the only people he talked to were the security guards at my apartment building and me. None of those mentioned ever knew his name so if anyone knows a way I could go about getting that information, that would be a great help, too. I am a newbie with this kind of investigative stuff, so thank you in advance for any advice. And I am sorry this is so long, so thank you for taking the time to read it.