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Years ago, we lived in an old building that at one time was a funeral home. It was not uncommon to hear strange noises and things at all times of the day. The first summer we were there, my daughter was just a baby. I had just laid her down for a nap and laid down on the couch for a quick nap, after just a few minutes I heard a man's voice calling my name. I got up and looked around and saw no one. Laying down, I heard him calling my name again, but this time, louder and more demanding. I got up and went to look in my daughter's room. She had pulled the blankets up over her head and couldn't breath. I firmly believe that it was the man, who had shot himself in the basement years before, warning me about my daughter. To this day there are still caskets and vaults down stairs. They also still have the embalming table that was used for the funeral hone. My daughter also says that she would see people walking passed her door every night dressed in period clothes. This continued until we moved out after 8 years.