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Death and its Mystery: After Death – Camille Flammarion

In 1915, Jules Lermina, the writer, sent me the following account.  It had been sent to him from Brussels by a lady to whose family he was related:

I saw one of my relatives on April 4, 1878, and spoke to him, though he had died in an accident the day before; I did, not know of his death. The incident was odd enough for me to recount it as faithfully as possible.

Absolutely contrary to my habit, I had left the table during dinner-that is to say about half-past six in the evening-to go into the kitchen to get something or other which the servant had forgotten. When I was bending down in front of a cupboard where china was kept, and had put out my hand to take up a dish for stewed fruit which was not in its proper place on the shelf, I was called by name and recognized my cousin’s voice.

I lifted my eyes toward the window of the kitchen (it was partially underground) and did actually see my cousin, bending down to the window. He nodded and said several times, “Good-day, Loule.”

He usually said this when he saw me.

 “Good-day, Wenand,” I answered.

Springing up, I left in the cupboard the thing I had come for. I went upstairs to the ground floor and myself opened the street door, but there was no one there. My father, who was in the dining-room, was astonished to hear the door opened, though no one had rung the bell. He left the room and went into the hallway to see what was going on. I explained to him that my cousin had arrived, and even added that he was doubtless hiding, to tease me. But my father answered:

 “It's impossible for Wenand, to be here! He died, yesterday. I didn't want to tell you.”

In short, I saw a person who had been dead for twenty-four hours, and spoke to him. I was neither depressed nor ill when I had this vision; I had not a trace of fever.