When I was 17, I traveled with my dad To Metter, GA during summer vacation to visit one of the family farms. About a year before my visit our Pa Pah passed away, leaving frequent proofs of his current existence.
For example, my 3 year old cousin pointed out the window one morning shouting "Pa Pa! Pa Pa!". Her mother responded "Daddy is at work.".
"No! Pa Pa! Look! Pa Pa!", she shouted again.
Her mother instantly knew who she was seeing and ran to the window to look over the pond outside (Pa Pah was buried on the other side of it) only to find mist.
I don't remember him very well for I was very young the last time I had seen him. But while there, I figured that I'd pay him a visit. I walked around the pond to his grave which was always decorated by flowers and his cross. I had just started talking to him when I suddenly felt a stinging sensation all over, making me scream. I sprinted to the other side of the lake to escape. The stinging had stopped.
That night I told my cousins (there were 5 of us all about the same age and all of us are girls, making everything easier to relate) what had happened earlier that day all of us were weirded out by it and didn't speak anymore of it that night.
I woke up abruptly the next morning feeling adventurous. No one else on the farm was awake. It was almost 6am and kind of dark. Walking down the steps, I was greeted by Fuji, one of the farm dogs. He was the only one not corralled, as the other dogs are aggressive toward livestock. The farm is surrounded by woods so I figured I'd explore some.
Walking for a few minutes in the woods I found myself baby talking Fuji, playing with him. He stopped suddenly in front of me facing away. It wasn't until the other dogs across the yard started barking frantically I noticed Fuji's hair standing up and he was barking as well.
Looking up and into the woods, I noticed a whitish clear figure a little ways away walking through the trees. I'd back up, walking backwards and Fuji would jump back with me. I ran to the house and the barking stopped. I wouldn't go into the woods alone again.