When I was in middle school, I had the first person to be semi-close to me die. He was my Great Uncle Gerald and we went fishing together that summer and had just become friends. He and my aunt Sophia lived just down the street from me.
It was fall when he died. He was in the hospital for a lung infection and was ready to be released to go home. That morning he had a sudden heart attack and died before his family could pick him up. My grandfather told me that afternoon after school and I couldn't believe that he was gone. The week after the funeral I had a very real dream that I was in his house and that he was there with everyone. All my family seemed to be happy that he was alive but I could not get over the fact that he was dead. I asked him how he could have come back to life. He was angry and said that I shouldn't mention it and that he had to take care of Sophia.
My grandfather does an early morning paper route and one of his stops is Gerald and Sophia's house. My aunt still lives there. Grandpa told me that often he would see Gerald on the back porch, smoking his pipe or see a light on at three in the morning with my uncle's figure going by the window. When I asked Grandpa if he was scared, he replied no, I know that Gerald is only staying around to take care of Sophia. From then on I knew that my dream had been more than just repressed thoughts, that Gerald had come to me that night in my dream to tell me not to worry about my aunt.