One night in April of last year I had a dream of a friend I had not seen in quite some time. She was standing in front of the Seventh Avenue entrance to Penn Station (in NYC) at a bus/taxi stand. She was dressed in a black raincoat, black pants, sneakers, and wore Raybans. She was smiling, waving, holding a set of car keys or a piece of chalk in her hand. She carried a black Coach shoulder bag and had a wheeled carry-on at her side.
I remember waking up, going "What the *&%$ is she doing in my head?"
Twelve days later, her brother called to tell me she died. The night I dreamed of her was when she was in a coma, hours from having the plug pulled.
That's just amazing. The luggage is an eerie component to the dream.
My husband's grandma had Parkinson's so we lived in her house, while she lived at my mother-in-law's. One day I was on the computer and the window was open. It was a beautiful spring day. I could even smell the orange tree and hear the birds. I had a feeling like someone was in the room with me. The thought, "It's a beautiful day to die, " came to me. I had a happy, peaceful feeling, then everything was just normal. I got up and started looking for my husband to come home, even though it was too early for him to be home from work. He did come home early. His grandma's heart had stopped that morning and my sister-in-law had performed CPR. At the time I had that feeling she was on life support in the hospital . Nobody believed me when I said she had already died at that point./ Not hours latert,