When I was in high school I went for a sleepover at a girlfriend's house. She had grown up in an old Victorian in the Noe Valley neighborhood of SF - it was a very pretty house, laid out in a shot gun fashion with one long hall and all rooms coming off that hall.
There were around 7 of us there and we had all set up our sleeping bags in the front room. It was a very fun evening, lots of giggling and general girl chat. At one point I wanted to get a bite to eat and headed down the hall to the back of the house where the kitchen was located. As I passed the door of the smallest of the bedrooms I was hit with an overwhelming sensation that there was something behind that door, something very bad and very dangerous. It scared me so badly that I ran right back to the living room and moved my sleeping bag as far away from that part of the house as I could.
A few days later I was talking with my friend about the sleepover and asked her about that bedroom. She mentioned that they really only used it as storage because no one liked sleeping in there. It had been her bedroom as a little girl for awhile but she had terrible nightmares when she slept in that room so she was moved to another. Later, when her older sister had a baby they attempted to make it into a nursery but the baby cried so incessantly when she was in the room they permanently moved her as well.
To this day I can remember the incredibly nasty feeling I got from that room. 
Just found a picture of the house - the small window to the right on the first floor is the room.
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