 There are thousands of cases similar to that of the girl named Rose Puglisi. No single one of them, perhaps, is of earth-shaking significance. And yet, taken all together, they comprise an impressive body of evidence. Evidence that there is a whole world of human experience which science has not even begun to understand. At 15, Rose Puglisi was a normal attractive American girl. If she had one idiosyncrasy, it was what she called her intuition, about which she boasted frequently much to the amusement of her family and friends. But after the night of February 1st, 1941, they ceased to be amused. About 11 o'clock that night, Rose's parents, returning from a neighborhood movie, found their daughters sitting in the living room staring moodily out the window. Why, Rose darling, you're still up. I don't feel like going to bed. Worried about something, I think? No. No, not exactly. Then, up you go. Reluctantly, Rose climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Ten minutes later, her mother glanced up to find the girl standing by her chair. Hi, Rose. What's the matter? I can't do it, Mother. I just can't go to bed in that room. But why not? It's just a feeling. I feel as if, as if I were never going to sleep in that bed again. Well, what do you want there? Stay down here in the living room, in the big chair there. I'd rather stay awake all night than go into my room again. And neither logic nor ridicule could persuade Rose Pugliese to change her mind. An hour later, her parents retired to their own rooms. And Rose, looking disconsolate and a little sheepish, curled up in the big chair. At four o'clock in the morning, Mr. Pugliese opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. Something had disturbed his sleep, a sound, an odor strange and yet unpleasantly familiar. In an instant, he was sitting erect in his bed, tugging violently at his wife's arm. Mother! Mother, wake up! What's the matter with you? We've got to get out of here! There's a fire! Throwing their robes around them, they yanked open the door and hurried out into the hall. Oh, look! Under that door, smoke! All the fires in Rose's bedroom! Before the night was over, the interior of the Pugliese home had been gutted. Rose's bedroom completely destroyed and her bed, the bed which she had a feeling she would never sleep in again, was reduced to ashes. It was inevitable that the local newspaper should get wind of this strange affair. And when the reporter came to interview Rose Pugliese, he asked her, first of all, whether she did not think it was remarkable that her life should have been saved by a mysterious premonition. Remarkable? No, I don't see anything very remarkable about it. You see, I've had hunches like that last time and every one of them turned out to be true. No, the story of Rose Pugliese is not a unique one. Thousands of other ordinary people have had similar hunches, similar premonitions. And as long as science rejects the idea of supernormal perception and scoffs at the gift of prophecy and yet provides us with no alternate explanation, just so long we must continue to label such stories incredible but true.