Well, I have a few stories to tell, even though I don't actually remember any of them... if you feel like a long post...
When I was only a couple of weeks old, my mom was home alone taking care of me and getting me ready for bed. Little things starting happening, which at first she thought was just her tired mind. Such as while carrying me to a different room, I would drop my pacifier. She'd set me up on the table, turn back to get it, and it wouldn't be there.... Then I'd have it in my mouth. I don't remember everything that happened-I'll have to ask her later, but my mother said it mostly revolved around me... Things I had, straps on my seat, I kept acting as though I was interacting with somebody. She would also find the plant in the living room knocked on its side every 20 minutes or so. The big one that sent her over the edge was that a Barbara Streisand song came on the radio and she turned it off (she hated her music). But after a few seconds, it would come back on. She played this game a couple of times until she completely freaked out, grabbed me and went over to my grandparents' house. As soon as she got there, they received news that my grandmother's sister had died a few hours previous. My mother knew immediately it had been her, as 1.) she LOVED Barbara Streisand and 2.) she had really wanted to see me when I was born, but hadn't been able to. My mom wouldn't stay home for a couple of weeks as my dad worked graveyard, and also because of that experience, I slept in my mom's room for nearly 2 years. She wouldn't let me be out of her sight.
The other story took place about 10 years ago or so. My mom's father had been paralyzed in bed for many years. During that time, his grandson (my cousin) had either been killed or committed suicide (we're not completely sure which), but because he was in such bad shape, and so angry and bitter about being in the state he was in anyway, the family didn't tell him he had died. About 2 years later, my aunt (mother of my cousin who had died) came walking in my grandfather's room and he started yelling (he was a cranky, grumpy old man - but 100% mentally there) at her saying her son was crazy, and what the hell was he talking about that he would be leaving with him, and to be ready? And why didn't they tell him he was home visiting? He went on and on and on about how he had come in that morning telling him that he needed to get ready to go with him. He had no idea he was dead. Needless to say it was extraordinarily painful for my aunt, and she thought he was full of crap, maybe dreaming or something. But my grandfather died that night.
I'm not always a believer, but sometimes I just have to be