This is a story which, even after thirteen or fourteen years, still gives me chills to remember.
My husband's grandmother, on his daddy's side, died in the early to mid-1980s. She'd been a diabetic, plus had a few other health problems as well. Anyway, my husband and I had been married approximately six to seven years and, during that time, we maybe visited his grandmother two or three times. Not very much for a span of six or seven years.
One afternoon, while watching TV, my husband fell asleep in the floor. The kids were both taking a nap, and I was sitting on the couch. Approximately forty five minutes to an hour after falling asleep, my husband began making low, mournful wails in his sleep, as if his heart were literally breaking. I shook him, trying to wake him up but to no avail. Realizing he'd wake up when the dream had run its course, I left him alone.
Soon, he awoke, tears streaming down his face."We've got to go see Grandmama Mann!" he said frantically. What happened?!" I asked, "What were you dreaming about?" He wouldn't tell me to start with, but I kept on and he finally told me. In his sleep, his deceased grandfather,(Grandmama Mann's husband) had come to him and told him if he didn't go to see his grandmother within the next two weeks, she'd be dead when he saw her again.
We agreed that we would go see her the following Sunday. Once he'd regained his composure, my husband called Grandmama Mann to see if she was alright. She answered the phone, sounding as chipper as ever. He told her we'd be up to see her the following Sunday. She told him she was looking forward to seeing us, and that we should come more often. (Grandmama Mann lived in Austell, GA about a one hour drive from where we lived.) They talked a few more minutes then hung up. A couple of days passed, and as so often happens, the dream began to fade, seeming less significant and real as it had when it'd first happened. So, as we'd done too often in the past, we called Grandmama Mann on Sunday morning and made our excuses for being unable to come. Though disappointed, she forgave us and we told her we'd try to see her the next Sunday. (A side note before I go on: It wasn't because we didn't love Grandmama Mann, but my husband was a truck driver at the time and when he wasn't on the road, he liked staying around the house, so we didn't go visiting very often.) That said, I will continue.
Anyway, the next Sunday rolled around and, once again, my husband didn't feel like driving up there so he called Grandmama Mann and made our excuses again. Once again, she forgave us. That monday, my husband had to make a run that would keep him out overnight. He'd be back that Tuesday evening. Tuesday morning, I received a phone call from his aunt. Grandmama Mann had passed away, peacefully in her sleep, sometime during the night. When he got home that evening, I sat him down and gave him the news. It hit him like a ton of bricks, for the dream, in all its clarity, came back to him full force, driving the guilt deep into his soul. It took him several years to forgive himself for, what he calls, his negligence of his grandmother. Even today, when the subject of his childhood, the past in general, is brought up, he is still guilt-ridden over it, for he still remembers the dream vividly.
This is a true story, and though it is not your run of the mill ghost story, it is a ghost story nonetheless, for had my husband heeded the warning of his deceased grandfather, perhaps he would not have to live with the burden of guilt he feels today. As for Grandmama Mann, her death occurred two weeks and one day after my husband's dream....If anyone has any questions or comments concerning this story, please feel free toe-mail me
Thank you for reading.