**A Warning from a Dream: The Story That Changed Everything**
Emily was busy making jam in the kitchen when the doorbell rang unexpectedly. Her husband, James, wasn’t home—he had left for work and taken his keys with him. The only other person in the house was their daughter, Lily. *Who could that be?* she muttered, drying her hands as she walked toward the door.
Standing on the doorstep was a boy, about ten years old. A complete stranger. Neatly dressed, with a schoolbag over his shoulder, his eyes were serious—far too serious for his age.
“Good afternoon,” he said politely. “I need to speak to your husband. Is he home?”
Emily hesitated.
“Hello. No, he’s not here right now… What do you need him for? Maybe I can help?”
“No. Only him. It’s important.”
Emily’s heart tightened. She didn’t even know how to respond.
“I’ll come back later. When does he usually get home?”
“He comes and goes… Who are you, anyway? What’s this about?”
“Nothing yet. But it could be. Goodbye.”
She watched the boy walk away, baffled. Why would her husband need to speak to this child? And how did he even know James? The rest of the day, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. That evening, when James returned, she told him everything.
“A boy came by earlier. Around ten years old. Said he urgently needed to speak to you. Wouldn’t say anything else.”
“What nonsense? I don’t know him. Maybe he got the wrong house?”
“No, he said your name confidently. Insisted it had to be you.”
James shrugged and went to take a shower, but Emily couldn’t shake her unease. Who was this boy? Could he be… his son? Some secret child from another woman? James had dated others before her… One name flickered in her mind—Sophie. Years ago, James had nearly married her. What if she’d been pregnant and never told him?
The next day, she cautiously asked,
“James, do you remember that woman you almost married—Sophie? Whatever happened to her?”
“Emily, why bring that up? Ancient history.”
“Just curious. You know about my ex, but I don’t know much about yours.”
She immediately searched for Sophie online, but with no surname to go by, nothing turned up. All she could do was wait to see if the boy returned.
A few days later, James announced he was going on a business trip.
“Just to Manchester. No one else could go, boss asked me personally.”
Emily tensed. He hadn’t travelled for work in years. The boy’s words echoed in her mind: *Something might happen.* Her gut screamed—something was wrong.
Then, on the eve of his departure, the boy knocked again. Emily quickly invited him in.
“Listen, tell me what you wanted to say to him. I’m his wife—I’ll make sure he hears it. What’s your name?”
“Oliver. You see… My mum told me in a dream—I had to warn your husband. If he goes, he won’t come back.”
“Oliver, what are you talking about? What mum?”
“She died five years ago. But she visits me in my dreams. Warns me. My gran says we’re still connected… She loved me so much. I never met my dad. Only saw her in pictures. But lately, she keeps appearing. Gave me this address. Said I had to tell *him*…”
Emily fell silent. A chill crept down her spine.
“Do you know who he is to your mum?”
“No. But she said—he can’t go. No matter what.”
After Oliver left, panic swelled in her chest. She didn’t believe in the supernatural… but this was too precise to ignore.
The next day, James set off. Emily tried to distract herself with chores. Then, after lunch—her phone rang.
“Emily, don’t freak out… I’m fine. But something weird just happened.”
“What?! What happened?”
“I was driving. Listening to music. Then suddenly, a woman stepped right onto the road. Out of nowhere. I swerved, hit the barrier… but the car in front of me—it flipped. Massive crash. People died… That should’ve been me.”
“Oh my god…”
“I don’t know who she was. Appeared from nowhere. Vanished. But if not for her—I’d be gone.”
That evening, James returned home.
“You don’t think… it could’ve been *her*? Oliver’s mum?”
“Emily… that’s just coincidence. Weird timing.”
“No, James. It’s not. I *know* it.”
The next morning, James froze mid-step.
“I remember now. Five years ago, I walked past a burning flat. People were too scared to go in. But I couldn’t just stand there—I ran inside. Found a boy, carried him out. His mum… didn’t make it.”
They drove to Oliver’s address, greeted by his grandmother.
“Yes, he lives here. My grandson. His mother died in that fire. You saved him. I’ve always been grateful… He doesn’t remember much. Just photos. But she visits him in dreams. Never me.”
“She saved *me*…”
“Charlotte was special. Would you like to see her picture?”
In the photo, Emily instantly recognised the woman from the road.
Oliver walked in, quiet but certain.
“Mum said you’re alive. She’s happy. But you must *never* take that road again. She won’t be able to save you next time.”
“Thank you, Oliver. And thank your mum for me. Want to be mates? My little girl’s too young for fishing, but you and I could go. Football, anything. Fancy it?”
Oliver nodded. Emily cried—grateful to fate… and to dreams, which sometimes, against all odds, can save a life.
