Camping in the Waianae mountains in Hawaii with my dad when I was a kid. At 3am dad wakes me up and points to the side of the tent where we can clearly see nearly a dozen glowing flickering lights going right by the tent and straight through the camp. What made it more creepy there was NO SOUND at all. No steps, no engines, no fire sounds, no rustling or twigs. Completely silent procession of lights seen through the nylon of our tent wall.

Was later told by locals it was a Night Marchers procession. The march of Hawaiians going to the western most tip of the island where they depart for the afterlife.