A Warning from a Dream: The Tale That Changed Everything
Margaret was busy with her preserves—pickling mushrooms in the kitchen—when the doorbell unexpectedly chimed. Her husband, Edward, wasn’t home; he’d taken the keys with him on business. Only their young daughter, Emily, was there with her. “Who could that be?” Margaret muttered, wiping her hands as she made her way to the door.
On the threshold stood a boy, no older than ten. A stranger. Neatly dressed, with a schoolbag slung over his shoulder, his eyes were oddly solemn, far too knowing for his age.
“Good afternoon,” he said politely. “I need to speak with your husband. Is he home?”
Margaret hesitated. “Hello. No, he’s out at the moment… What do you need him for? Perhaps I can help?”
“No. Only him. It’s serious.”
Her chest tightened. She didn’t know what to say.
“I’ll come back later. When is he usually home?”
“He comes and goes… Who are you, exactly? What’s happened?”
“Nothing yet. But it might. Goodbye.”
Margaret watched the boy leave, baffled. What in heaven’s name did her husband have to do with this child? And how did the boy even know him? The rest of the day, she couldn’t shake her unease. That evening, when Edward returned, she told him everything at once.
“A boy came by today. About ten years old. Said he urgently needed to speak with you. Wouldn’t say another word.”
“What nonsense? I don’t know any boy. Maybe he got the wrong house?”
“No, he said your name clearly. Insisted it had to be you.”
Edward shrugged and went to wash up, but Margaret couldn’t shake her worry. Who was this boy? Could he be… Edward’s son? A child from before their marriage? Edward had other women in his past, after all… A name flickered in her mind—Claire. Years ago, he’d nearly married her. Could she have been pregnant? Could she have kept it from him?
The next day, she broached the topic carefully.
“Ed, do you remember that woman you almost married? What was her name again?”
“Why bring her up? I’ve forgotten and don’t care to remember. Claire.”
“Just curious. You know about my past, but I know little of yours.”
Margaret searched for Claire on social media, but if she’d changed her surname, it yielded nothing. There was nothing to do but wait and see if the boy returned.
Days later, Edward announced he was leaving on business.
“Just the next town over. No one else could go, so Mr. Thompson asked me.”
Margaret’s nerves prickled. Edward hadn’t traveled for work in years. The boy’s words echoed in her mind—*Something might happen.* Her instincts screamed that something was wrong.
Then, the night before Edward’s departure, the boy returned. Margaret hurried him inside.
“Listen, tell me what you wanted to say. I’m his wife—I’ll make sure he hears it. What’s your name?”
“Thomas. You see… My mother came to me in a dream. She said I had to tell your husband—he mustn’t go. Or he won’t come back.”
“Thomas, what are you saying? What mother?”
“My mum died five years ago. But she visits me in dreams. Always warns me. My nan says we’re connected… She loved me so much. I never met my dad. Only saw Mum in pictures. But lately, she’s been appearing often. Gave me this address. Said only *he* should hear it…”
Margaret fell silent, ice crawling down her spine.
“Do you know who he was to your mother?”
“No. But she said—he mustn’t go. No matter what.”
After seeing the boy out, Margaret shut the door, panic tightening around her chest. She didn’t believe in the supernatural… but this was too precise to dismiss.
The next day, Edward left. Margaret tried to calm herself with chores, but after lunch, the phone rang.
“Marg, don’t panic… I’m fine. But—something strange happened.”
*”What?* What happened?”
“I was driving. Listening to music. Then suddenly, a woman stepped right into the road. Out of nowhere. I swerved, hit the barrier… The car ahead of me went airborne. There was a crash. People died… I should’ve been in their place.”
“Oh God…”
“I don’t know who she was. Just appeared… then vanished. If not for her, I’d be gone.”
That evening, Edward returned home.
“You don’t think… it could’ve been *her?* Thomas’s mother?”
“Margaret… It’s just coincidence. Superstitious nonsense.”
“No, Ed. It wasn’t. I *feel* it.”
The next day, Edward’s expression was grim.
“I’ve remembered. Five years ago, I was passing a house on fire. People stood by, too afraid to go in. But I couldn’t just watch—I ran inside. Pulled a boy out. But his mother… she didn’t make it.”
They went to the address the boy had given. His grandmother answered.
“Yes, he lives here. My grandson. His mother died in that fire. You saved him. I’ll never forget that kindness… He doesn’t remember much. Just the photos left behind. But she visits his dreams. Never mine.”
“She saved *me*…”
“Eleanor was always different. Would you like to see her?”
The photo was unmistakable. *Her.* Edward knew it instantly.
Then Thomas appeared in the doorway.
“Hello. Mum said you’re safe. She’s glad. But—you must never take that road again. She won’t be able to save you next time. You have to remember.”
“Thank you, Thomas. And thank your mother. Would you like to be friends? I’ve a little girl at home—too young for fishing. But we could go, you and I. Football, too, whatever you’d like. Will you come with me?”
Thomas nodded quietly. Margaret wept—from gratitude, from fate… and from knowing that sometimes, even a dream can save a life.
