I have seen a ghost.
Somewhere between Burlington, Vermont and Albany, New York on an unlit stretch of highway, a thin young man in shorts balancing a giant log on his shoulder was suddenly a hundred feet away, stepping in front of my car. I jerked the wheel hard, swerving to the left, almost hitting the median. My eyes went to the rearview mirror, but there was nothing there. I had three friends in the car and all of us saw the same man. Had he existed, the log he was carrying would’ve smashed the passenger side windshield.
Later that night, I was pulled over by a cop because my right headlight was out. It had been out for days. That headlight would’ve been the only thing illuminating the man on the highway.