Okay, so, I grew up in Seattle and lived in the basement of my parents home. Our house was built in the 1940's and we had done a huge remodel of it when we first moved in, my mom said "to clear the energy". I actually lived upstairs for years but took over the basement after my brother went off to college. And only downstairs I felt uneasy. I completely avoided the garage for some reason or another, I was afraid of the bathroom after seeing shadows and things quickly go by in the window, which I saw when looking in the mirror. In the basement there was a door and stairs that led to the garden and the greenhouse. The greenhouse became my smoke spot and I was sitting there on the phone with my boyfriend, when the basement door made of wood and medal that must've weighed well over 75lbs opened on it's own, and quickly. You also have to turn the knob for it to open, and really jiggle it. Freaked out I waited shocked for a minute, my bf talked me down, and I got up to open it. Not even 2 minutes later it happened again. At that point I ran inside and started using the porch to smoke.