I’m a little 
about this one as it was probably just a massive coincidence, but here goes…
When I was little I used to spend the summers on a small Greek island where my Stepdad lived during the season. He owned a little seafront restaurant a few miles away from the nearest village. My sister was still just a toddler and shared a bed with my Mum and Stepdad, while I slept alone in a little room just off the kitchen.
Early one morning I woke to see a man walking across the foot of my bed. Red cloak, fringed helmet – a picture book Roman solider. It was like the bottom of my bed was an archway onto some ancient corridor, and he was only visible when passing it, if that makes sense.
Anyway, I thought it was the aftermath of a particularly vivid dream, and shrugged it off.
I got up and wandered through the empty restaurant. There had been a bad storm the night before and a few of the tables and chairs had upturned. Spotting my Stepdad on the other side of the road, looking down onto the beach, I went over to join him.
The storm had dragged all the sand from the beach to reveal what looked like the foundations of an entire village. My Stepdad looked very concerned. I asked him what the foundations were and he explained that they were Roman ruins. He was worried that archaeologists might see the ruins and close down his restaurant, which was built on top of the same ruins, which apparently ran right across the road. He had even built a ‘feature’ BBQ out of some of the stones!!!
Within a few days the sand had covered the ruins and the restaurant was saved. As for my Roman soldier, I never saw him again.