I remember the year our Father died, 1976, and the family rode the greyhound bus to Louisiana from North Carolina, our Mom, my twin Sister, and two Brothers. There he had lived with our Grandparents up to his death. After his funeral and, fresh out of high school, it was time to think about my future. My Grandmother asked me to stay with her and Grandfather, and take my Dad's old room, and I did.
Months later I was in bed asleep, lying on my back, with my right arm extended over my head. It was a very relaxed position when I was awaken by pressure in the pit of my right arm, it was felt like a fist of a small person. Surprised and confused I looked around the room there were no one in the room. I then opened the bedroom door and looked into the living room to make sure that there weren't anyone there. Convinced that everything was ok I closed my bedroom door then back to bed.
At three o'clock that morning my eyes suddenly popped opened, I thought it was very strange, until I looked down at my feet and the bedroom door was wide opened, and standing there was a dark shadow of a man, directly in the door way. The street lights in front of the house had brightly lit the large living room, and there was no doubt this was the ghost of my father looking me in the face.
Until that point my thoughts has always been once you are dead, you are gone, no ghost or spirits GONE. I was very wrong.