One night, while our son Steven was a teenager, my wife and I woke up just before 3 am to the sound of furniture moving around, scraping across the floor above us.
We wondered what in the world Steven was doing rearranging his entire room in the middle of the night.
We could hear items dragging across the floor and footsteps bumping along as someone walked. This went on for a good ten minutes until I finally got up and went up the stairs to ask him to knock it off and get to bed. But when I opened his door, he was fast asleep. Nothing was disturbed.
I woke him up and asked him if he had just been moving things around. He looked at me as if I was an alien and rolled over to go back to sleep. That’s when I noticed the closet.
The closet in that room was built into the wall, kind of under the roof overhang and the only way into it was through a set of double sliding doors made out of very hard wood, built into a track. The doors had warped and were very, very hard to move. It took the two of us to close them. But we got them closed.
I went back to bed and within a half hour, the dragging and footsteps started again. More sounds of rearranging right above our heads.
I got back up, prepared to chew Steven out. I went back up the stairs and rounded the corner, into his room. Once again, he was fast asleep.
And the sliding doors were open again.
A few days later, after returning from church, Steven went up to his room and came back down looking white as a sheet. I asked him what was wrong. He told me to go look in his room.
Steven had a stereo stand he had made out of 4 stacks of bricks as legs and a piece of plywood as the table. Some of the bricks were missing from the stand, which was now shorter, and were laying on his bed, arranged in such a way as to spell out a single word.
And, the closet door was open again.
Steven was not comfortable in that room after that.