This is taking place in my old apartment, my room. I have moved twice since. I was sitting on my bed, reading a book. I looked up to see the time and I rubbed my eyes and lay back for a while. I felt something cool on my cheek. I opened my eyes and it was a lady in a white nightgown. She had light auburn hair and blue eyes, and her skin was pale and icy cold. I backed away, scared out of my pants, nearly falling off the bed.
Only then did I notice that the lady wasn't on the floor (I slept on a high bunkbed, and instead of another bed underneath, it had drawers and a closet). At this point, I opened my mouth and took a deep breath for a blood-curdling scream. She put her hand on her lips in a "Shush," gesture.
She looked so gentle that I obeyed. Instead, I stared like a dope and studied her. She was barefoot, too, about in her teens. I looked up at her face again. She smiled at me, very sweetly and faded away.
My jaw might have dropped to the floor. I don't know. But it did go a long, long way. I told my family. No one believed me. Everyone told me it was because I was being influenced my the stories I read. I was never a big fan of ghost stories - until I had experiences that were ghost stories. Only then did I look up ghosts and the whole subject of the paranormal.
I understand some things a little better now.