precognition

This entire creepy place was giving me the idea that I wasn't merely walking on haunted ground-but that I was walking on major-league haunted ground, the kind of place that had never bowed its head to the advance of progress and civilization, to science and reason, that had no more regard for those children of human intellect than it did for their progenitors. The island seemed almost alive, aware of my presence in a sense that I couldn't really tangibly define-aware of it and sullenly, spitefully hostile to it.
But that wasn't the creepy part.
The creepy part was that it felt familiar.
Walking up those stone steps, my legs settled into a steady pattern of motion, as if they'd already walked up that path a thousand times. I swerved slightly on one step, for no reason that I could see, only to hear Michael, behind me, continue walking in a straight line and slip as the stone he stepped on shifted beneath his foot. I found myself counting silently to myself, backward, and when I hit zero we mounted the last step and reached the summit of the hill.
Somehow I knew, even before I saw it, that one side of the old lighthouse would be torn open to the sky, revealing an interior that was as hollowed-out and empty as the inside of a rifle barrel. I knew that the little stone cottage built against the base of the tower would still be reasonably intact, though about half of the slate-tile roof had collapsed inward and would need repairs. I knew that it had been made from the stones of the collapsed lighthouse. I knew that the front door rattled when you opened it, and that the back door, which wasn't in sight from here, would swell up during a rain and get stuck in its frame, much like the door at...
...at home.
I also knew that as freaking weird as all of that was, I couldn't afford to let any of it matter right now.

Small Favor Chapter 42, Page 346-347


"Can I get your take on something?" I asked her.
"Certainly."
I told her about my experience on the island, and the eerie sense of familiarity that had come with it.
"Oh, that," Anastasia said. "Your Sight's coming in. That's all."
I blinked at her. "Uh. What?"
"The Sight," she replied calmly. "Every wizard develops some measure of precognizance as he matures. It sounds to me as if yours has begun to stir, and has recognized a place that may be of significance to you in the future."
"This happens to everyone?" I said, incredulous.
"To every wizard," she said, smiling. "Yes."
"Then why have I never heard about it?" I demanded.
"Because young wizards who are anticipating the arrival of their Sight have an appalling tendency to ignore uncomfortable truths by labeling more appealing fantasies revelations of their Sight. Everything they care about turns into a prophecy. It's vastly irritating, and the best way to avoid it is to keep it quiet until a young wizard finds out about it for himself."
I mulled over that idea for a few moments. "Significant to my future, eh?"
"Potentially," she replied quietly, nodding. "One must proceed with extreme caution when acting upon any kind of precognizant information, of course-but in this case, it seems clear that there is more to that island than meets the eye. If it were me, I'd look into it-cautiously."
"Thank you," I told her seriously. "For the advice, I mean."

Small Favor Chapter 46, Page 418-419