When my sister was little, she had an imaginary friend called Jackie. One Sunday, my great aunt was over and my sister came in, announced to the room that Jackie fell down the stair and died, and left. My great auntie calmly looked up and said “how did she know about that?” Apparently, my great auntie had a little brother called Jack (her mother, who died a little before my sister was born, called him Jackie) and when he was 7, he fell down the stairs, banged his head and died.
According to my mom, after her mom had died and I was like three or some shit, we were in the tub and I turned to and said “Grandma says not to worry, she’s not in any more pain.” Since my grandma had died on my moms birthday, I guess my mom kept praying that grandma would die and stop being in so much pain. My brother says I would sit in my room talking to her and one day I got sent home from school cause I couldn’t stop crying, saying grandma was dead. I had only met her [my late grandma] once from what I remember.