We reach our front door, unlock it, flick on the entranceway light, and step inside. I reach around the corner and hit another light switch, which illuminates our living room. Everything is just as we left it. I'm glad to be home, looking forward to putting my feet up and relaxing.
As I'm reaching to untie my shoes, Ken suddenly startles, and jumps back against the wall. His face perfectly illustrates the expression "he looked like he'd just seen a ghost". He's staring into the middle of the living room like he's spotted something terrifying. I look back into the living room. There's the sofa. There's the TV and remote control. Nothing out of order.
Ken is still backed into a corner between all wall and the hall closet door. His face is grey.
"Did you see that?" he asks me.
I look at him like, more information please!
"There was a man standing right there in the middle of our living room."
"What did he look like?"
"He was tall, bald, and creepy-looking. He was wearing a long dark coat. He saw me looking at him. Then as soon as I saw him he started vanishing from the feet up. He was gone by the time I asked you if you saw anything."
Ken was not fooling with me. He wasn't drunk, overtired, or on medication. He has no history of schizophrenia. I'm as sure as I can be that he can see disembodied spirits.
Ken's dad and his brother also have the ability to see ghosts. This isn't the only ghost story I have from Ken, but it was the only time I was there. And it made me really, really glad that, despite my ability to experience some things beyond my five senses, I can't see ghosts. Because that apparition scared the poop out of him.
Fortunately the scary ghost man never re-appeared in our living room.
Believe what you will, but this story is true to me. Happy Hallowe'en! May you have lots of fun and candy, and no ghosts.