Not my mum
When I was around six me and my younger sister shared a room and we had bunk beds. I slept on the bottom bunk and the door into our room was at the end of the bed but facing so that whoever entered walked past the end of the bed to get into the room. I had a nightmare one night and called for my mum in fear and as expected she came into my room. I vividly remember her walking into the room, although I don’t think I remember the door opening, and the lights were off so I could only really see her outline. She walked to the side of the bed and crouched down so she was at head hight and I started telling her all about my nightmares; she hadn’t said anything at this point but I remember vividly talking to a person about my dreams.
After at least a couple of minutes of talking to my mum about this nightmare my bedroom door opens and my mum walks in. I remember being confused because I’d already been speaking to someone crouched by my bed but my mum walked through the door and asked me what was wrong so I started to retell my nightmare.
To this day I have no idea who I was talking to first, whether it was my six year-old mind playing tricks on me or whether the scared shouts of a kid summoned some friendly mother spirit I could vent to. It’s only in hindsight I’m scared by the encounter. At the time I was comforted and then confused but never scared and it never happened again.
I’ve never spoken to my mum about this either. It’s my only experience that really makes me believe in the supernatural.