The DD living here at the moment is also very much into any kind of supernatural phenomenon. To the point it's annoying. I have no solid beliefs or disbeliefs formed. The house has noises. The house has voices, the same type over and over. And when it's quiet, there's a spot that sounds just like a tv was left on until you try to find it. These things increase whenever we do any fixing up (it was in pretty bad shape when we bought it). There was a woman who died in a kitchen fire in the very early 1900s. I guess the coal stove blew up and she perished. Rather young, sad. A lot of the words we hear and 'off' things can be tied into that event.
Like I said, the times I truly am scared is when I think it's a real person. One of the few times it really got to me was when DH had the little its over to his parents. I was reading in the livingroom (center of the downstairs) when I heard a heavy step, like workboots would make, start at one end of my upstairs and go straight through to the other end - making no allowances for any doors, walls, empty space, etc.
Let me tell you! I grabbed the baseball bat and they found me reading on the front yard when they got home. Why? Because I was positive it was a real person up there.
Over the years, the noises, etc. have become a rather soothing comfort. A constant in a life full of children, jobs, illnesses, etc.
And the sense of humor is mostly to amuse myself. It's nice when someone else notices tho. I like laughter.
Take care dear.