Two nights in succession, they have gone like this:
1) In one, she woke on her air mattress on our floor feeling feverish, itchy, and panicked. She made a noise that caused me and J to come running; finding her burning up, we stripped the covers and her pyjamas back only to find her burning up and covered in hives / sores. The source of this torment was the ghost of a young boy in one corner of the room; he was dressed in pale blue shorts, a white shirt, and a brown jacket. He was throwing a tantrum and tormenting her because his pyjamas were hidden under the living-room floorboards, so until the three of us ripped up the floorboards and got him his pyjamas, he refused to go away. Once they pyjamas were handed over, he was content, and he went away.
2) In the other, she woke to a noise in the room and, on opening her eyes, saw that two young men and a young woman in Victorian dress had come into the room and were in the process of hanging their coats and hats. She tried to bid them a good evening, but could not because her throat was too dry for her to speak. One of the two young men smiled at her and said, "Good evening." The other young man ignored her, continuing to hang his coat and hat, but the young woman, who was in a blue dress with dark trim and a hat to match, came over to her air mattress and knelt down. She said, "May I ask what your name is?" My sister said, "My name is Alyce." Before she could finish saying as much, the young woman set a finger against her lips and then raised her other hand threateningly, as if to smother my sister. The shock of being touched by the young woman is what woke her.
I'm significantly rattled by Alyce's reports, because I've been living in this apartment for slightly over two years now and have had no problems except for one night early on where I woke up feeling edgy and panicked, as if someone else was in the room, but did not see anything. A few days after moving in, while cleaning the highest level of the built-into-the-wall bookshelf in the living room, my fingers hit something small, hard, and caked in dust. Once washed and polished, it proved to be an ancient pewter button that had the words GAUNT LONDON printed on the back and a sailboat stamped into the front. I had wondered for a long while if it had belonged to a child's outfit. I had not told anyone in my family that I'd found the button, nor had J. After my sister reported her dreams, I went and fetched the button and held it out to her, speechless. If there are ghosts here, I would have at least liked them to bother me before bothering a guest. That's just bad manners.
(My sister is sleeping now; her breathing's even. I hope I'll be able to do the same.)