I’ve had several paranormal/psychic experiences, particularly between the ages of 11 through 16. I’ve had a few in adulthood, but not as many as when I was young.
Anyway, I’ve told this story to several people, including family members, and no one believes me. It’s true though. When I was about 16, I woke up in the middle of the night because of some sort of sound and movement in my bedroom. Outside my window was a strong streetlight, and the curtains were thin, so I could see what was going on in the room fairly well. About three feet from the foot of the bed, on the same wall as the window, was a small wooden desk, and on top of the desk was a small three-shelf bookshelf, and books filled all three shelves. When I woke up I could see something going on in that area, and as my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw that the books were coming off the shelf one by one, in order from left to right. It started on the top shelf, then moved to the second shelf, and then to the third. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and squeezed my eyes shut and opened them several times, but it kept happening. Then I pulled the covers over my head and laid there very still. Finally I fell asleep. The next morning when I woke up I sat up and saw that indeed I had not been dreaming–the books were in a big, messy pile on the floor. I cannot think of one explanation for what happened.
Among many other weird things I’ve experienced occurred when I was an adult. I had heard vaguely that Hedy Lamarr lived not far from where I did, and one day when I opened the newspaper and looked at the obituaries, I said out loud, “Where’s Hedy Lamarr’s obituary?” I was taken aback, surprised to hear myself say that; while I’m a fan of old movies, I rarely if ever have thought about Hedy Lamarr in my lifetime. Two days later, I heard on the news that Hedy had died that night–two nights after I asked that question. Weird.