I lived with my husband in our first house we bought together. We had strange things happen the very first night we moved in, but explainable, like sparks flew from a light switch a few times. I figured it was a loose connection or a damaged wire that my husband could look at eventually. But then it never happened again.
We had heard from a neighbor that our house was built by a motorcycle gang who highjacked a semi load of plywood in the 70's. Well sure enough, behind every wall of drywall or the lovely artificial wood paneling, was thick, solid plywood. From what my husband says that was not normal. I just liked the fact that I didn't have to find studs to hang something heavy on the walls, anywhere could easily handle a heavy antique mirror nailed to it.
The night this happened was before we had kids but we had a large, loud dog. She was a wonderful guard dog and kept watch all night, usually at the opposite end of the house as our bedroom. My husband was already sleeping and I went to bed. After tossing and turning awhile, I just could not fall asleep and I couldn't figure out why. I was comfortable but something wasn't right, the temperature in the room, maybe?
Then I realized the ceiling fan wasn't on, and we always slept with it on. That must be why. While I was debating if getting up and walking across the room to flip the switch would just wake me up more, or I should just continue to try to sleep, something crazy happened.
I heard my dog start freaking out on the other side of the house, her loud, terrifying guard dog bark, which meant something was definitely wrong. I was thinking of waking up my husband to go investigate, but I then heard a noise from within my bedroom. While I tried to figure out the sound in the dark, I realized: it was my ceiling fan. Starting to spin. All by itself.
It stayed turning full force, circulating air and making it comfortable to sleep once again with its familiar hum. I laid there a minute wide-eyed in disbelief. I woke up my husband who, half asleep, just dismissed my fear and rolled over. My dog quit barking, like whatever was there was now gone. Things were quiet, the ceiling fan on, I felt comfortable and eventually fell asleep.
But not before also asking for a bag of hundreds to show up in my closet. That part unfortunately never happened.
Out of all the things I've thought about or wanted or needed, I always wonder why the thing "they" thought was important was turning on my ceiling fan.