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Can We Have Some Pleasant Ghost Stories

In here? Shieet. They're not all scary, you know!

For a little back story, I'm agnostic but was raised Jewish (Mamaduke's side). She and her side of the family always believed that there were ghosts, or at least some form of spirits. Mom's take on it is that we stay spirits for as long as we are needed in this world, and once we are no longer needed, we go to...whatever afterlife there is. She believes that there are good and bad spirits, but the ones who stick around tend to be good. All in all, I basically believe the same thing.


When I was a kid, say from the ages of 5 to 9 or so, me, my parents (still together at this point) and my sister lived in a 2 family house on the second floor. It's kind of difficult to describe the layout of the apartment, but basically it had a large living room which was attached to a dining room, with an adjacent kitchen that, while separated by a half-wall, you could see into from the living room. Attached to the dining room were 5 stairs that led to, not quite a hallway, but a small space with 3 rooms attached - parent's bedroom, sister's room next to it, and the bathroom next to hers/right across from my parent's room (my room was on the "first" floor next to the kitchen). If you were sitting on the couch in the living room and looked at the stairs, you would be looking directly at my sister's door.

Obviously I was home a lot cuz I was like, ya know, 5. And I would constantly see a man in my house. He didn't look like a "ghost." He looked human. I wasn't scared of him at all. He was tall, hefty and bald. He was also older, maybe in his 70s. He was always smiling. Sometimes he'd turn the radio on or open the fridge. I'd often see him going into my sister's room and then hear music playing, mostly when she wasn't home. Usually he'd just walk around, sometimes he'd wave at me. I had no clue who he was but for some reason I just wasn't afraid in the least. I'd just smile back.

One time I was sitting on the couch with Mamadukes, and I saw him in the kitchen opening a cabinet. So I was like "oh ma, look! It's the man!" She didn't think I was crazy, and she believed me, but she didn't see anything. She asked me to describe him to her, which I did. She didn't freak out, she smiled and said "hold on." Mamadukes got up, went into her room, and came back with a photo album. She turned to a picture of my great-grandma Sylvia with a man and asked "is this him?" to which I replied "yeah! Yeah that's him!"

His name was Hyman Needleman, and he was my great-grandfather. He died right before I was born, and I'm named for him in Hebrew. He loved music and food, but most of all he loved his family. I haven't seen him much since my great-grandma passed away back in 2007. Though he still pops up from time to time, and he's still always smiling.


Told you they're not all bad ;)

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