Last year, sometime in mid-September, I had a ghostly experience I will remember for the rest of my life.

I was working at the gift shop in the airport at Cornelia, GA. One of my good friends was a pilot of a small plane.
It was an average morning, just a little foggy. I got to work at 6:30 a.m., got the money out and into the cash drawer. I then saw my friend, pilot Dominique Racal. We began talking for around 10 minutes, then he said, "I'll be back at around 3:30, maybe we could go get a little something to eat after my flight to Atlanta." I agreed and he said that he would meet me here, at the gift shop. Business was as usual. Then at 10:20, I saw Dominique come into the gift shop. I said, "Why are you back so early?"
"I had a little trouble seeing through the fog so I turned around at about 20 miles south of here," he replied.
I told him that I was sorry he had to cut his trip short and asked if he still wanted to get a bite to eat.
"No," he said, "I have to get home and check on my daughter, this is her first time home alone..."
"That's alright, maybe some other time." I said. Then he left.

Two hours dragged by. A woman and a young girl (around 13) came in, and they looked worried. "Excuse me, miss," the woman said, "There is no one else here to help us, but have you seen my husband? He told me he would be home from his plane's phone before I got back, and we are worried because he is never late from a flight." She looked frightened.
"What is your husband's name?" I asked. "Dominique Racal. I am his wife, Shawn." she held out her hand. I shook it and told her that he had come in at around 10:20 and that he said he was going home to check on his daughter.
"He isn't home. Can I use a phone? I need to call the police!" she yelled as I gave her the phone.

The next day, a plane was found in a field in Gainesville, about 20 miles south of Cornelia. It was Mr.Racal's plane. It had crashed at 10:23, almost precisely the time I had been speaking to him. He had died instantly.