Strangely enough I was basically raised in a funeral home. My parents were workaholics, and my grandmother worked in a nearby funeral home where she 'watched' me. The first dead body I ever saw was when I was 4 years old, and from then on up until I was about 12 I had seen hundreds of bodies.
For some reason, one particular kid sticks in my mind. I never forgot his face, and I remembered his entire name even being so young. It was a 19 year old boy from my home town that died in a car accident. Years later I mentioned to my grandmother that I remembered him, and she couldnt believe it. We had no relation, I had never met him before, but for some reason I still sometimes think of him. I see his pictures in my head, think about how he died, and have weird random memories of him that never happened.
I don't know why.
When I was 7 years old I lived in a condo with my parents and baby sister. We shared a bedroom, and had bunkbeds. I was on the top bunk when I heard tapping on my window. I climbed down the latter thinking it was my next door neighbor whom was also my best friend. I peeked over the windowsill and saw nothing. I looked around my yard a bit when I saw eyes belonging to a full grown man in between the bushes being lit up by our floodlight.
I ran out of my room and told my parents, and my mom came in and said it was just a bad dream. She lied with me until I fell asleep, but I know for a fact I wasnt sleeping. I really saw him.
(This story is credited to a person named Skella.)