Coinciding with coming across this account I also found this while browsing
On January 15, 1963, I was in my office in the University Chapel, putting the finishing touches on a sermon I was to preach there the following day. It was late in the afternoon of a very cold, icy and blustery day. The students were in the latter part of their final examination period for the fall semester.
The telephone interrupted my sermon work, and the caller was a friend, the Reverend Arnold Matthews, then Pastor of a large Methodist church in an NC town some distance away. He told me that he had to depend on me to take some sad news to a member of his church who was then a freshman at our university. His name was Wayne Milton Jr. and he roomed in a basement or ground floor room in a men’s dormitory, room NN-025. I checked my student directory and found the information to be correct. Arnold told me that Wayne Jr.’s father had a heart attack and died earlier in the afternoon, and he told me in some detail how the death had occurred. He asked that I go to Wayne Jr.’s room and tell him of the death and ask that he come home at once to be with his mother.
I put on my hat and overcoat, and I walked very carefully over the ice to the room Arnold had identified. Once at the door, I paused for a prayer and then knocked on the door. There was a soft “Come in” in response. On opening the door, I looked into the darkened room, with a table light at the far end of the room. A student was sitting at that light, studying for his next exam. Another student was asleep on a bed near the door. I tip-toed my way to the student who was studying, and asked him if he were Wayne. “No, that’s Wayne asleep.” He then introduced himself to me as Wayne’s roommate, Frank Parker. It is important to my story to note here that Frank remained in the room the entire time I was there.
I asked Frank if Wayne had been asleep very long. He replied that Wayne had been soundly asleep since lunch, so far as he could tell, for Wayne had been up most of the night, preparing for a final exam he had taken that morning. I asked if any word had come to the room that afternoon pertaining to Wayne’s father. He replied that nobody had come all afternoon, and of course they did not have a phone in the room. I told Frank the basic facts. He said he was certain that Wayne knew nothing about it, for he, Frank, had been studying there all afternoon.
After a moment I sat on the edge of Wayne’s bed. I moved his shoulder with my hand and he opened his eyes for a moment. I told him that he needed to wake up. I asked him if he knew Arnold Matthews. He said, “My home church Pastor.” I said, “Well, Wayne, I’ve just had a call from him and he gave me some information to pass along to you.” I was determined to make Wayne ask me if something was wrong. But he said nothing. He simply lay there and looked at me. Then I said, “He told me something about your Father.” He just looked at me. “The news is not good, Wayne. Your Father had a heart attack.” I paused and waited a bit. No comment. No question. Finally, I said, “I’m sorry to tell you, Wayne, that your Father didn’t make it. He is dead.”
Wayne closed his eyes for a minute or two and I remained quiet, with my hand on his shoulder. I decided to put the best “face” on it I could, so I told him that it might comfort him a bit to know that his father died in an effort to save a little girl’s life. Wayne opened his eyes and listened. I went on to relate how Arnold told me that he died. He was driving home from Winston-Salem to his hometown when he saw that a car had slid off the road into the ditch, in the ice storm. He stopped and asked the driver if he could help her. She replied that her daughter had pneumonia and she was trying to get her to the nearest hospital. Mr. Milton said he would try to push the car enough to get her out of the ditch. While she was driving and he was pushing, she noticed in the side-view mirror a look of great pain on his face, and he died right there in the ditch.
Wayne suddenly exploded. “That’s not how I saw it! I mean—that’s not the way it was in my dream.” I asked him if he had experienced a dream about his father’s death while asleep in the afternoon. (By this time, his roommate was by the bed, hanging on every word!) Wayne replied that he had experienced an awful nightmare, which so disturbed him that he had great difficulty in getting back to sleep.
I then asked him to tell his roommate and me how he saw it in his nightmare. He said that he saw his father sitting behind the steering wheel of his car, in front of a red brick building which had a hospital sign on the front of it. His Father was looking at him with a look of great pain on his face, and just before his head dropped to his chest, he said, “Goodbye, Wayne.”
Well, Frank and I could only hear what he said. Quickly, the roommate made plans to drive him to his hometown, and after admonishing them to drive slowly and carefully, I sent them on their way.
A week later, after the funeral of his father, I was sitting at my desk in the Chapel, and Wayne burst into the room. He said, excitedly, “Chaplain, you remember how I said I “saw” it happen? Well, the lady came to Dad’s funeral, and she told me just how it happened, and it happened exactly as I told you I saw it in my dream. Dad did tell me good-bye before he left.” He went on to explain that the lady did, indeed, notice the look of pain on Mr. Milton’s face as he pushed her car, so she told him to stop pushing. She asked if she carried her little girl up to his car on the road, would he drive them to the next hospital. He said he would, and when they arrived there, she asked Mr. Milton to wait in his car out front while she ran her daughter into the emergency ward. When she returned to his car, Mr. Milton was dead behind the steering wheel!
Many secularistic scientists would claim that this is all coincidence. Wayne Jr., however, has from the beginning believed his father sent him a “good-bye” message by thought transference. -------- signed by the Chaplain.