“I didn’t think he’d make it past Thanksgiving.”

This is a story about my old roommate, Butch.

When I went off to college I didn’t know anyone and was a little dismayed to learn my dorm roommate was the complete opposite of me in every way possible.

I’m from the big city, Chicago.  He was from a small town in central Illinois.  He was a big fellow, a jock.  I was short and not particularly athletic.  He had a drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend back in his hometown; I couldn’t get girls to look at me if my life depended on it.

At first, I didn’t like him.  He seemed a bit oafish, not particularly bright, and he wasn’t doing well in class.  In fact, I didn’t think he’d make it past Thanksgiving, and I’m embarrassed to say that I was kind of hoping he’d drop out so I could get a roommate with whom I’d have something in common.

That all changed the night he came home drunk as a skunk.  Frankly, I thought this was the last straw because I was studying for an important test and I could smell the liquor from across the room.

But as with many things, life can sure be a surprise.  Maybe because when I looked at him sprawled out on his bunk, almost helpless, he was a sad sight indeed.  But maybe because for the first time we opened up to each other.

He told me of his hopes, his dreams, his fears.  And he told me how he admired me because he knew I was going to go far, be a success, and in the long run lead a happy life.  And I confessed that I was jealous of him, with his good looks, his imposing presence, his beautiful girlfriend.

We laughed and bonded that night.

Well, Butch unfortunately died a premature death.  He had gone into his father’s construction business, had done quite well, but had suffered a freak injury on a construction site.

And although we hadn’t been in touch for the eight years since our roommate days, his image popped into mind late one afternoon when I was walking the dog.  And I knew something tragic had happened to him.  I knew it.

When I got back in the house I Googled his name and found out where he was living.  I called information, got his phone number and called him.  His wife answered and although I had never spoken to her before, I could tell by the quiver in her voice, something bad had happened.  She said she had just returned from Butch’s funeral an hour earlier.

I explained who I was and she said Butch often talked about me, that he had never forgotten the type of person I was and how he wished he were more like me.  I told her of the time we spoke that night when we both opened up to each other.  She thanked me and I told her how sorry I was.

F. Tennison
Highland Park, IL

“If that isn’t telepathy or ESP or just plain eerie, I don’t know what is.”

I have to tell you what happened to me last week.  I’ve been telling all my friends, and some of them are skeptical.  But everything I am about to say is true.

I was driving in my car when an uncontrollable urge came over me.

It was as if I had been invaded by another being.  I suddenly felt the need to contact an old high school friend.  His name is Bernie and I hadn’t seen him in over fifteen years.  In fact, I hadn’t even thought about him during most of that time.

Bernie and I were merely acquaintances in a high school club we used to belong to.  We were never really close, never hung out together.  We knew each other primarily because we had mutual friends in the club.

But this day I had the strongest feeling I should contact him.  I didn’t know why, but I knew it was important to call him.  Problem was, I didn’t have the slightest idea of where he was or how to get a hold of him.

The only thing I could think of was to call an old friend who always seemed to know where everyone was.  And this was the amazing surprise that I’m about to tell you about.  Her name is Sally and when I called her, the first words out of her mouth were, “Have you heard from Bernie?”

I was speechless, truly speechless.  Sally asked if I was OK, and I told her the reason I had called.  She went on to say that Bernie wanted to organize a reunion of our old gang and he had called her the previous day asking for my phone number.

If that isn’t telepathy or ESP or just plain eerie, I don’t know what is.

Well, Bernie and I did speak on the phone and it was nice to hear his voice and learn what he had been up to all these years.  He went on to tell me that he has had these telepathic experiences before, but this was the first time someone else he was thinking about had picked up on his thoughts.

M. Postner
Bismarck, ND

“I could feel his presence when I needed him.”

My uncle died a few months ago.

Uncle Harry was like a father to me.  My dad had left my mother when I was only a child and although I didn’t see Uncle Harry a lot (he lived about one hundred miles away), when he did drop by there was a special connection between us.

Even as a small child, I felt the tight bond between us, especially when we hadn’t seen each other for a while.  For instance, I could feel his presence when I needed him, when I was especially vulnerable.

Once, when I was surrounded by some kids who were teasing me on the schoolyard I could tell Uncle Harry knew I needed help.  I could hear him telling me to stand tall and not be afraid.

In fact, that night Uncle Harry called and asked how I was doing.  When I got on the phone, he said he knew something had happened that day and wanted to hear about it.

I’m twenty-four now and when Uncle Harry took ill about a year ago, I immediately called him.  He said he wasn’t surprised I knew something was wrong even though he had told no one about his illness.

When I went to see him, he confessed he knew we had something special the moment he saw me as an infant.  Somehow we had bonded right away and we were on the same wavelength.

One more thing:  the night Uncle Harry died, I heard him say goodbye to me even though we weren’t even in the same vicinity.  His private nurse called me to tell me of his passing and as she started to tell me his final words, I blurted them out before she had a chance to say anything.

She said that’s exactly what he said.

M. Rushanti
Topeka, KS

“He’s standing there at the end of my bed, but he isn’t saying anything.”

When our beloved neighbor, Henry, and his son, Allen, were in a tragic automobile accident our entire neighborhood was devastated.

We are a close-knit community, have street fairs, barbecues, etc. and have made numerous friends over the years.  Henry died that day and his son was left in a coma for two weeks.  The doctors feared Allen would never wake up.

My husband and I would visit him just about every day, and while we were taking a break in the lounge, one of the nurses came rushing in and said come with me.  She led us into Allen’s room and we were astonished to see him awake.  His eyes were open and he was trying to speak but nothing was coming out.

The nurse gave him a sip of water, and he started to make audible sounds.  Then he looked at my husband and said, “Is my father OK?”

We didn’t know what to say.  Again he said, “Is my father OK?”

My husband looked at me and said, “Yes, he’s OK.”  Then Allen looked a bit puzzled and said, “Why isn’t he answering me?”  I asked what do you mean.  And he said, “He’s standing there at the end of my bed, but he isn’t saying anything.”

We looked but couldn’t see anything.  My husband sighed and took Allen’s hand.  “Allen,” he said, “I’m afraid your dad didn’t make it.”  Allen nodded but said nothing.

Well, Allen recovered.  It took a long time, but he made it.  His mother said he never mentioned it again that he saw his dead father at his bedside.

J. Cantor
Minneapolis, MN

“It was as if she was channeling him wherever he was.”

I noticed something strange with Annie, our dog.

Normally, around five-thirty in the evening, she starts to walk in a sprightly manner, her tail will wag and she’ll have more energy.  Despite being pretty old (she’s twelve), she still gets excited when my husband, Bill, returns from work.

But this evening Annie appeared sullen.  I didn’t know why until the phone rang.  It was Bill and thank heaven nothing was seriously wrong, but he had been delayed on the way home by a horrendous traffic jam and he said it would be another hour before he’d walk in he door.

Somehow Annie knew it.

When she was just a puppy, she could pick up on Bill’s mood even when he wasn’t home.  It was as if she were channeling him wherever he was.  On the day he was given an unexpected promotion at work, Annie was all over the house with excitement.  In fact, she was so excited she had at least two “accidents” inside the house, and that was highly unusual for her.

Another interesting incident was the time Bill and I were taking a riding lesson at the stable.  My sister was waiting at the barn, and when we returned she commented on how Annie suddenly awoke from her sleep and started pulling on the leash and barking.

When I asked about what time that happened, I wasn’t the least bit surprised to learn it was the exact time we had turned the horses around and headed back to the barn.

C. Matthews
Houston, TX

“If I hadn’t seen it I wouldn’t have believed it.”

I am fifteen and a friend of mine said you publish true psychic stories if they meet two criteria:  they’re true and they’re interesting.

Here’s my story.  It’s true.  You can be the judge if it’s interesting or not.

My first and last boyfriend, Jeremy (not his real name as to not embarrass him), and I used to go down to the lake and hang out.  He is very shy and it took quite a while for him to even put his arm around my shoulders.

But one afternoon, I kind of kept leaning against him and he really didn’t have a choice but to hold me.  I could tell he was a bit nervous about it and sensed that maybe he had never done that before, but I could also tell he liked it and was very excited.

Anyway, just as I thought things would start to get interesting, we noticed a duck that was hobbling along, trying to fly but not being able to get off the ground.  Then we realized it had a broken wing, and we knew it was a matter of time before some animal killed it.

At first we tried to approach it, but it kept running away from us, stumbling and hurting itself more.  The more we tried, the more afraid it got.

Then Jeremy said, let me try something.  He asked me to move further away from the bird, which I did.  Then he sat down and closed his eyes.  Well, the darndest thing happened.  That duck at first kept walking away and by now it was thirty or forty yards away.  But then it stopped, slowly turned and looked at Jeremy.

Then, and I still find it hard to believe, it walked back, all the way up to Jeremy and just about sat in his lap.

We were able to bring it to the local vet who was nice enough to treat the duck for free and not charge us anything.  And Jeremy explained that when he sat down he silently communicated with the duck and told it he meant no harm.

If I hadn’t seen it I wouldn’t have believed it.

J. Bridgeport
Madison, WI