Seeing freaky things in mirrors

I'll begin by assessing some comments by Hume, then apply that to a specific case:

Does a man of sense run after every silly tale of witches, or hobgoblins, or fairies, and canvas particularly the evidence? 

Suppose supernatural or occult entities really exist. Suppose hobgoblins and fairies are part of the cultural folklore. That means that if somebody were to experience a supernatural or occult entity, he might automatically classify his experience as a personal encounter with a hobgoblin or fairy because those are the available labels and categories. The fact that hobgoblins and fairies are imaginary doesn't mean that a reported experience using those designations is necessarily or even probably bogus. The folklore may have a elaborate and fanciful backstory about about the origin, nature, and social life of hobgoblins and fairies that's sheer mythology. But if that's the cultural frame of reference for naming types of paranormal, supernatural, or occult experience, then that's the default classification scheme. You need to differentiate the conventional narrative from the underlying experience. 

The passion of surprise and wonder, arising from miracles, being an agreeable emotion, gives a sensible tendency towards the belief of those events, from which it is derived. And this goes so far, that even those who cannot enjoy this pleasure immediately, nor can believe those miraculous events, of which they are informed, yet love to partake of the satisfaction at second-hand or by rebound, and place a pride and delight in exciting the admiration of others.

With what greediness are the miraculous accounts of travelers received, their descriptions of sea and land monsters, their relations of wonderful adventures, strange men, and uncouth manners? But if the spirit of religion join itself to the love of wonder, there is an end of common sense; and human testimony, in these circumstances, loses all pretensions to authority. A religionist may be an enthusiast, and imagine he sees what has no reality: he may know his narrative to be false, and yet persevere in it, with the best intentions in the world, for the sake of promoting so holy a cause: or even where this delusion has not place, vanity, excited by so strong a temptation, operates on him more powerfully than on the rest of mankind in any other circumstances; and self-interest with equal force.

The many instances of forged miracles, and prophecies, and supernatural events, which, in all ages, have either been detected by contrary evidence, or which detect themselves by their absurdity, prove sufficiently the strong propensity of mankind to the extraordinary and the marvelous, and ought reasonably to beget a suspicion against all relations of this kind.

1. There's a grain of truth to this, which lends specious plausibility to Hume's overall dismissal. Atheists sometimes taunt Christians by alleging that outside the Bible, Christians are just as dubious about paranormal claims as atheists. Their default setting is skepticism. They demand extra evidence before they credit a paranormal claim. 

2. That's sometimes true and that's sometimes wise, but it's overstated and confused. For instance, it's often prudent to be suspicious of a self-serving claim. Some people exaggerate about their achievements–or simply lie. But on the one hand, self-interest is hardly confined to some supernatural claims. Many mundane claims are motivated by self-interest. Conversely, some supernatural claims are disinterested. For instance, you can strike up a random conversation with a stranger. The conversation turns to the supernatural or paranormal. They may volunteer a personal anecdote. This is a private conversation. They have no stake in what they tell you. It won't make them rich and famous. They may be personally invested in the sense that it's a very meaningful and memorable incident in their life, but they have nothing to gain by sharing that anecdote with a perfect stranger. 

So there's no general presumption against crediting supernatural claims. Any reservations we should have are hardly unique to supernatural claims. 

3. The credibility of the account also depends on the details. Is it just something they made up, or is it embedded in the context of many incidental details that lend it depth and consistency? When you ask follow-up questions, can they instantly provide additional background information? Because lies and tall tales are ex nihilo, they have no past. They sprang out of nowhere, so the backstory runs out in a hurry. 

4. Another issue is whether it coheres with similar reports. There's cumulative probability when independent observers relate a common type of experience. 

5. Consider the interview between Michael Heiser and Jen:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fEOz2KMZfCc

There's an element of consilience. Traditional Cherokee witchcraft hovering in the background–her grandmother's psychokinesis. Heiser has similar ancestry. Living in a house built on forgotten tribal land with arrowheads and metal stakes on trees once used to blood-let animals. Unable to grow plants in the front yard, as if the soil is accursed. Her brother admitting at a later date that he had the same experience. (Seeing freaky things in mirrors might be due to hallucinogens.)

Reminds me of the book I read by an anthropologist who studied an Eskimo community in a fishing village on the North Slope. Some of them were charismatic Christians while others were into traditional Eskimo witchcraft. 

At one point, due to coastal erosion, they relocated the village onto Indian burial grounds where the Eskimo witchdoctors were buried. That's when spooky things began to happen: Edith Turner, The Hands Feel It: Healing and Spirit Presence Among a Northern Alaskan People. 

6. Her experience highlights why the church needs to have theological explanations for haunted houses and the like. Knee-jerk dismissal drives people into the arms of the New Age.