While touring Europe with a performing arts company (in a coach on the way to Hartlepool), I was overcome with a sudden inexplicable feeling of dread. I just knew something was wrong back home (Stateside.) When we arrived at Hartlepool, the police boarded the bus and asked for me. They escorted me to a waiting police car, where an officer informed me that my father had been in bad car crash and that my family wanted me to return home urgently. I remember being totally unsurprised at this news, almost as if I expected it. I was immediately transported to the airport and caught the first available flight out. Tragically, by the time I got home, it was too late. My father had passed away. I was 17 years old then, and that was the only experience of that sort I've ever had.