This kid remembered things he should have never known—and none of it made sense.

In the summer of 1962, in a quiet town in western Montana, the Halberts started noticing something odd about their six-year-old son, Evan. Whenever they drove outside the familiar streets, he would sit up in the backseat and calmly say things like, “Turn left here,” or “There’s a red barn behind those trees.” The family had never taken those roads before.

They assumed he was just guessing—until one afternoon, miles from anything they recognized, he whispered, “This used to be blue.”

He pointed at an empty patch of field and said there had been a house there, with a squeaky door and a bedroom upstairs that he called his. His father pulled over. Evan got out, walked across the field like he knew where everything used to be, then knelt and put his hand on the ground.

“Right here,” he said. “The stairs were right here. This is where I died.”

Two weeks later, out of desperation, his parents checked the county archives. Old property records showed that a farmhouse had once stood on that exact land. It burned down in 1949. Only one person died in the fire—a young boy, the same age Evan claimed to have been, with a house layout that matched his description.

When reporters later asked Evan about it, he said he didn’t remember saying any of that.

He only said, “Sometimes, my dreams don’t feel like mine.”