When I was 8 and a half ish, my friend and I liked to go push biking a lot. We lived in a small country town, so where pretty much given free reign to just disappear for the day. It was a weekend, and as we where riding up the crest of a small hill that overlooked a valley in the town, I started to get this deeply uneasy feeling. We stopped at the top.
From where we where, we looked out over the valley and directly at the next ‘hill’ (because australia really just has bumps…) which is where our primary school was. The ‘bottom’ of the that hill was the bottom of the school, and it was the road where all the parents picked up their kids.
As I’m looking out over the valley, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze, movement catches my eye. I look back at the school, and I freeze in terror as I watch one car go careening into a car pulled up on the side. I see the two cars smash and crumple up, I can hear the crackle of breaking glass, the rattling thump of the impact, and I know with a bone deep, terrifying certainty,that my other close friend, her sister and mum are in there… and that they’re dead, and my friend is going to be left all alone. This was an unshaking fact in my mind as I stared at the accident. I didn’t question how I could so clearly hear the screams of the onlookers, the screech of tearing metal, or the ozone stink of hot metal. Even though I was too far away to even be able to hear anything- somehow, I was getting sensory overload, like I was right there.
My best friend asked me what was wrong. I’m shaking and crying at this point, so I manage stutter and somehow to get across what I’ve seen. She’s puzzled, so my attention focuses back to her as she explains that there is nothing wrong, what am I freaking out about? So I look back, still horrified- and there’s nothing there. Everything is still, quiet and calm.
A week later, in exactly the same spot, my friend was in a devastating accident. Her mum was picking her and her older sister up from school when someone lost control of their car and smashed into them. The mother and sister died on impact, and my friend was hospitalised for months afterwards.
I felt horrifically guilty for years afterwards. I should have told someone, any one what I saw, but it was so strange and unnerving that I just tried to forget about it instead.
I had pneumonia when my grandfather died. I sleep walk. I think I was sleep walking this because I don’t remember it. I woke up, walked into my mom’s room, shook her awake and told her that papa loved her and wanted to her to know he would always watch over her. She was ushering me back to bed when the phone rang. That phone call was my grandmother telling my mom that papa had passed.
This had to have been about two years ago during the summer. I had this dream that I was in this old-timey train station and I was standing next to this man wearing a brown trench coat and one of those fedoras reporters used to wear. The man then turned to me and said “I’m going to pick up your Uncle Bud. Don’t worry about him, he’s going to be just fine.” As the man turned away, the train pulled up and the man walked on. I woke up from the dream as soon as the train pulled out of the station. When I woke up it was about 1 in the morning.
The next morning I get the news that my great Uncle Bud died in the night around 1 am. I immediately told my parents about the dream. After describing the man in the station, my dad shockingly exclaimed that he knew for a fact that the man in my dream was his dad who had passed years before I was born. According to my father his dad wore the same brown trench coat and hat, and it made sense that his dad picked up Uncle Bud because they used to be really good friends.
I remember at that time being really shaky on my beliefs of the paranormal and sometimes I still am, but I truly cannot explain that.