Years ago, when I was around 13, we were living in a house that is generally known to be, if not straight-up haunted, had some sort of badness about it. We lived there until I was about 20.
Anyway, I was sitting at my dresser mirror with my bedroom door behind me, doing my hair and getting ready to head to the mall. My dog, Boots, a small/medium terrier mix, was laying in the doorway. Suddenly, she jumped up and started growling, full hackles raised, into a corner of my room, directly to my left.
“Boots?” I called. “It’s okay, baby, there is nothing there.” She didn’t listen, instead, she started backing out of the room, growling ferociously.
Yeah, I was right behind her, screw brushing my hair.
Years later, same house, I was sleeping in my parents bed. When my mom moved out, my dad didn’t want to sleep in that room, so he took my room (now in the basement) I had their room, which had a waterbed. Fine. Whatever.
Anyway, laying in bed one night, getting ready for sleep, my back is to the door which is closed, but not latched, or the dog or cat would howl to come in later. I hear a soft bump, and the door opens, because the light from the bathroom is now shining in. No biggie, I didn’t sleep in pitch black back then anyway. I feel Boots hop on to the bed, and the waterbed gently waves with the added weight. I decide to give her a scratch and roll over.
No dog. Door is open.