I don’t casually discuss the paranormal with strangers, even if they bring up the subject. To me, it’s a serious matter, not suited for light conversation. Besides, even when people seem open-minded, too much truth can sometimes have the opposite effect.
Years ago, my father asked me to contact the deputy manager at his bank in London to meet with her and sign some documents in person. She was a charming and very helpful lady. After our business was concluded and it was nearly lunchtime, we decided to have a meal together at a café near the bank. Initially, the conversation revolved around my father, his business, and her family, but gradually, we moved on to other topics. I don’t remember exactly how we ended up discussing the paranormal, but I do recall her sharing a personal experience:
One afternoon, she felt tired and went to her bedroom for a nap. She left the door open so she could hear her children in the front room with their nanny. Before long, she drifted off to sleep. Shortly after, she woke up to find an older man sitting on her side of the bed. Although startled at first, she wasn’t scared. She asked him who he was, and he looked at her with a sad expression. He told her that he missed his wife; he just wanted someone to talk to. Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished.
I asked her if it might have been a dream, but she was adamant that she had been awake the entire time. I assured her that I believed her and didn’t need convincing—and I meant it. You should have seen the relief on her face when she realized I accepted her story without judgment.
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