In the summer of 1995, a friend of mine visited me from Florida, but spent the week at another friend's house. Near the end of his stay, he asked if I would drive him to Detroit to visit his grandmother. I obliged, for it was only a four hour trip, so I went.
We arrived at his grandmother's house on Friday night and he planned to return to Chicago with me the next morning. I slept in his grandmother's spare room that night, and didn't have anything happen until 3 a.m. I was sleeping until I realized that I felt my arms moving. I was really tired so I cracked my right eye open to a slit and was astonished at what I witnessed. Both of my arms were moving without the benefit of a conscious decision to physically move them. They felt like jello, yet I wasn't scared or even frightened. In fact, I was downright intrigued. I kept my eye opened for another minute or so and then I went back to sleep. That morning I went to my friend and told him what happened. He was interested as he and I feel and sense things out of the ordinary. He told me to tell his grandmother.
I braced myself and found his grandmother quilting. As she sewed, my friend asked me to reveal what happened the night before. I related the whole story and even told her that her husband enjoyed flyfishing and golf. Her face turned pale as I told her what happened. I then told her about her husband's military duty in World War I and described her husband to her. She grew even more pale, but then she suddenly smiled and calmed down. She went to a shelf where she had a picture of her deceased husband in his World War I uniform. He matched everything I told to her. She said to me that I wasn't the first to encounter him. She had nieces and nephews who sensed her husband in the spare room. She then revealed to my friend and I that the bed I slept in was the bed he died in!
Emboldened by this I continued to relate the course of the night. My friend's grandmother said thank you for telling her. Not every one can sense the invisible things around them. I even continue to have encounters with my deceased cat, but that is another story.