When I had just turned 18, I got my first apartment. It was in an old area on a dirt road off of Federal Highway in Boynton Beach, Florida. There was a little old lady named Mrs. Mosely who lived off of her pension and the 3 rental units on her property. I found out she needed someone to rent her solo apartment for only 500 dollars a month and I jumped at the opportunity, (electricity was included, and it had well water, but it was a deal).
The apartment had one room with a complete wall that was covered over with a giant mirror that Mrs. Mosely told me was placed there by her husband who had recently died. There was a bedroom in the back past a bathroom on the other side of the mirrored wall, but I had not yet obtained sheets for the bed and decided to sleep on the cushions of the couch in the mirrored room the first night there.
Believe it or I slept perfectly fine - until about 1:30 in the morning, when I was awoken by a loud, audible voice calling my name, (no, not an internal voice in my head!) If you think that was frightening, a moment later I looked up in time to see a glowing cloud slowly coming from the mirror on the wall. It kept coming through until it filled the room and blue rays with lightning flashes were hovering over my head.
This cloud-presence started asking me the same question over and over again, "Do you swear to defend the Father in Heaven?" over and over again, getting more and more scary each time. Finally with my limited view of "God" as I knew it at the time, I shakily asked, "J-J-Jesus, is that you?" at which point a figure like the outline of a human being without features appeared in a recliner across the room, looking straight at me, glowing the whole time. The voice repeated itself again asking the same question, "Do you swear to defend the Father in Heaven?", at which all I could muster was a little "yes..."
The voice immediately ceased talking, the presence vanished, and the being in the recliner disappeared, and I scrambled to my feet to turn the light on. I could swear that I could hear U2's "The Joshua Tree" playing in the background, somewhere in the apartment, and searched fruitlessly to find the source of the music. I don't know if it was God, or Mrs. Mosely's ghost that talked to me, or even who or what was in the chair, but I soon afterward found another place to live and left the little apartment completely.
Mrs Mosely soon died and joined her husband in the afterlife, from what I heard from her family after one day returning there. The apartment was still standing, in shambles, and the dirt road had been paved over, but I swear I could almost hear that freaky voice and see the cloud in my mind to this day.
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