Mommy, she was here again. She comes to me in my room. We need to hide. There's a diagram you'll find in psychology textbooks.

Four black circles are arranged at equal distances apart.

Two above, two below.

Then a quarter piece is taken out of each of the circles. When you do this, a

funny thing happens. A white square appears, sitting on top of the dark circles. Psychologists can prove even babies see this square,

but the square doesn't exist.

I saw a girl.

She was wearing a white dress.

And all of the sudden, she vanished.

From an early age, we're skilled at seeing what isn't there.

Many, many bodies are under the roof, not like today.

It's our mind looking for a pattern.

She stood there, pointed to the spot in the corner, Trying to make sense of oddness.

I actually said hello.

Hello.

Us looking for faces in the shadows, voices in the noises of the night.

I could hear someone crossing the room,

meaning in the muddle of life and death.

Hello?

But then, every so often, I hear a story that leaves a room for doubt.

While we slept, what was raging around our house, doing things to our child and to our possessions while we were sleeping.

Is this thing going to kill our baby? We thought this thing was going to kill our baby. Do ghosts exist? If not, why do we see them?

...