At the beginning of September, 1990 I dreamt of my father who had died in January, 1990. In the dream, my father was with a little girl who was crying and he was trying to comfort her. He told her that I was to be her grandmother and I would look after her. So I was convinced that my daughter who was pregnant at the time would have a little girl. However, to my surprise it turned out to be a little boy.

Three years after the child was born, I was on a bus with him. When we passed a certain park, he instantly recognised it and told me that he had died there. However, he was not a boy at the time but a little girl. He said that he had run out into the road when his mummy had told him not to.

I was amazed at his story. He repeated the story three more times and the details never changed. On the last occasion, I tried to stop him from telling it again, but an old man who was sitting behind us asked me not to stop him. He listened to what my grandson said and then thanked us and said, "I don't have long to live and this young man has taken away my fear of death."

One day I was visiting my nephew's wife, and I told her the story. She looked up in shock and said, "I remember that when I was at secondary school in that area, there was a little girl killed in a road accident. It was in the local newspaper."

Please respond to john@beyondreligion.com

Posted Aug. 21, 2008