My childhood home is haunted. And the "ghosts" hate my wife.
Growing up we could always hear someone walking around upstairs. It was always strange but my parents would explain it as the house adjusting to the heat. Sometimes I would wake up because I could feel someone sit on the bed beside me but no one was there. My parents told me that I was dreaming. I could also see the silhouette of someone. After I moved away to college my mother finally confessed to me that she would see a person walking and the dogs would alert as well. The apparition seemed benevolent until my wife spent the night there for the first time. We had not told her about the haunting. She walked up the stairs and a large framed picture hanging on the wall was thrown at her. That night she woke me up gasping for air. She said she was awakened by someone and they had their hand over her mouth so she couldn't breathe. The latest event was when my kids asked me who the man in the closet is.