It was my first year of fatherhood. My wife, son (approximately 7 months at the time), and I had just moved to a house. Being a young couple it was a small older home. Most of the neighbors were the original owners and literally dying off all around us. My neighbor across the street was 88 and bought her house brand new in her 20's. So I imagine someone died in this house sometime before we lived there.
Anyway, it's been a long day and the baby is finally asleep in his crib in our bedroom. I passed out on the couch from just being extra tired from getting up every night multiple times for the past several months. All of a sudden I wake up to my son in screaming at the top of his lungs lying in the doorway between my bedroom and living room. The house is completely dark and quiet otherwise. I rush over to pick him up from the ground and soothe him. It dawns on me at that point that he isn't in his crib. Or covered even though it's winter and my wife is still in bed staring at us. I check all around to see if he somehow learned to walk, climb his crib, and then rolled over. No way. I'm creeped out and mama is creeped out, but whatever it's late and he's quiet again finally. Her and I go to the kitchen to get something to drink and talk about why he was on the floor. He starts screaming again and we both go check. I flicked the light switch and walk over to his crib. 3 to 5 seconds go by and the fucking light goes out! The switch is still up and the bulb blew, but not instantly it was delayed. Holy fuck. No clue why, what, or how that all happened. I have never ever EVER been so scared in my life.