“His final prediction was his own death.”
My uncle Jerry was a world traveler. A year before he died he told me of an incident in London that proved that truth is often stranger than fiction.
He was staying in a more or less rundown hotel when a man who looked like he hadn’t shaved or showered in days approached him, asking Jerry if he was an American. My uncle was leery at first because there was something strange about the man, but as they began to talk, Jerry could see the man was highly educated.
The man, who didn’t reveal his name, said he had come to London because a “voice” had told him that he should immediately return to his birthplace. That it was “his time.”
Upon hearing this, Jerry thought perhaps the man was schizophrenic. Then the man pulled out a stack of one hundred dollar bills from his pocket and started peeling them off to him.
Jerry, who is as honest as they come, refused to accept the money and told the man he shouldn’t be giving his money away to strangers. It was then that the man told Jerry the voice predicted he would be dead within the next twenty-four hours. Jerry scoffed and said that although the man looked unkempt, he didn’t look sickly.
Later that night, Jerry heard a commotion in the hallway, and was taken aback to see the man being carried out of the hotel on a stretcher. He was unconscious and looked white as a ghost.
When Jerry went to the hospital the next day, he was told the man had died the previous evening of apparently natural causes. He also learned the man was an heir to a shoe fortune and was also known for his uncanny ability to predict the future.
In this instance his final prediction was his own death.