I had the most unusual dream last night. I was in a dim room lofted over a much larger room that I could not see and it had piles and piles of nice rugs everywhere, dark and smooth wooden floors, and exposed rafters painted white. A mirror was on the wall and I caught a glimpse of myself and I must’ve been about ninety years old. In the room was a woman of about the same age whose face I can’t recall but her skin was a pale yellow and she was extremely thin and wrinkled, as one would expect. Her hair was short and grey. We were having an intense discussion but I couldn’t hear anything that was being said. I remember feeling terribly emotional about whatever it was.

I get up to leave and the dream fades to black but resumes as if it was a cut in a television show. The room is different but it feels as if it is in the same house. This time, the woman is dying on what looked like a hospital bed. Only I was around. I was crying my eyes out and this time I could hear it. I woke up when I knew in the dream she had died and found, shockingly, my face was totally covered in tears. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.

My friend concluded that while this dream has no guiding value, I should hold it very close to my heart as a sort of predictive memory that I might be given what I’m looking for.