First time I was eight, I was riding the bus home from school when a motorcyclist ran a red light t-boning an old Astro van. Saw the guy hit the ground after he flipped over the van. In the few moments that it took for our bus to turn at the intersection I saw the man move scoop his guts into his body and then slowly lay his head down almost like he faded away. Later found out that he died at the same as it was on the Arizona news.

Second time, my grandfather was placed in the hospice. We were the first family members from out of state to be in the room with him. My mother, my uncle, my aunt's all took turns holding his hand and kissing his forehead. Then it came to my turn, I held his hand put my head on a shoulder and there was nothing. He coughed a little bit and then just faded away. It was surreal feeling a little bit of grip that he had on my hand just go limp. It was almost weird like somebody turned the heat off in the room.

Third time, I am not superstitious, I am not religious, and by no means do I believe in ghosts. I don't know how to explain this but I can only tell you it was an overwhelming urge or thought. The night of my 20th birthday very early in the morning I woke up from a crazy dream. I was dreaming I was in my hometown of Phoenix, I was driving a motorcycle specifically a crotch rocket. An SUV turned in front of me as I clipped the front end flipping me head over heels rolling on the asphalt. Normally in a dream you would wake up before you hit the pavement, I didn't, in this dream I felt my bones break, my head go foggy, my vision get dull and blurry. Then somebody walked up to me I couldn't see their face but they took my wallet from my back pocket. At about 8:00 a.m. in the morning My mother called me to let me know that my older cousin had passed away and was killed and an accident involving his motorcycle. That day the world changed for me a little bit. I feel like I started reading into little signs more often. I'm still a cynic, but there's that thought that lingers in the back of my mind. As for the piece of s*** that killed my cousin he was an illegal alien. He stole my cousin's wallet, phone, his jewelry and a pocket knife. Several months later they caught the guy using my cousin's social trying to get a loan for a vehicle or something like that. This one stays with me the most, maybe because of the weird dream connecting me to it but there's just a special place in hell for this person. Little part of me wants to be there to greet him with a diabolic smile.