My deceased father appeared in my dream the night before my birthday and warned, ‘Don’t wear the dress your husband gave you.’ I woke up trembling, because my husband had just given me that dress. And when the seamstress brought it back and I checked the lining, I realized my father hadn’t just visited in a dream, he might have prevented something I hadn’t noticed.

The image from the dream returned instantly. It was her father, her daddy, who had died of a heart attack three years earlier. He stood in the doorway of their master bedroom exactly as she remembered him, wearing his favorite gray sweater she had knitted for his 60th birthday. His expression was grave, almost severe, and his eyes locked onto her with sharp, urgent warning.

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