When my father was very young, he had a great aunt who lived with his family. One day his older sister was baby-sitting him while their parents were out for the afternoon. He walked past his great aunt's room and noticed that she was packing up all her belongings. He asked her where she was going. She told him she was going to be gone for a very long time and that she loved him, and then she walked out the front door with her bag in her hand.
As soon as his parents got home my father told them about his great aunt leaving. They apparently stared silently at each other for several moments, and then finally, a little awkwardly, my dad's mother asked, "Do you remember what she was wearing?"
My father described as best he could the dark blue high collared jacket and long skirt his great aunt was wearing when she walked out the door. There was another silence, and then my father's parents led him into the parlor, sat down with him, and told him why they were acting so oddly. They believed every word he was telling them, because they'd kept from him where they'd been so he wouldn't be upset, but they'd spent the afternoon at that same great-aunt's funeral. And the outfit my father described her wearing when she left was exactly what she was wearing in her casket.
I've talked to everyone who was there that day - my father, my grand parents, and my father's older sister - and they have identical memories of it, they assure me it hasn't been embellished or exaggerated over the years, and they each become kind of quiet and preoccupied when they talk about it. It happened, there's no doubt about that, it's just that to this day they still can't quite understand it. - E. W. 
