This story started when I was about five. My dad used to work at the YMCA in town, though he always complained about how little everyone else worked. One day we went to the gym to drop something off from the car. We worked for a little while, him doing the heavy labor and me doing what I could.
"I'll be back in a minute..." Dad said. And then he went back to the car. I nodded, content with being alone. I looked around the gym, looking at a large poster made by some kids in Afternoon's Rock. I really liked it, so I raised my eyebrows in admiration. Then I felt something tingle through me. At the same time, I heard a creak. I lowered my eyebrows a little bit. Another creek.
I turned around to see the door somewhat open on one side. I walked up to it, expecting to see someone behind the door. But no one was there. Feeling a bit confused, I looked at the other side of the door. It was just staying open as if someone was holding it there. And let me tell you, that was one heavy door. No one was on the other side.
I raised my eyebrows and saw it open a little bit more. Each time I felt a bit of happiness with the thought that I was moving it, though, it closed a little bit and I lost a little control. After a while, about a minute before my dad came back, I lost control. As much as I tried to move it again without touching it, I could not. I even tried looking at the poster and raising my eyebrows. After a while we left.
The second time this happened, it was outside on a completely windless day years later, also with my dad. This time my dad worked for Syfer's, the company that makes Mikesells potato chips. I was helping him for a day. He was just in the middle of showing me something when I raised my eyebrows. The door to the back of the truck opened a little bit. By the time my dad turned around, I had lost control.
Perhaps I have a connection to my father; I don't know. We do have a lot in common. But he has never displayed psychic abilities of any sort.
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