**Warning from a Dream: The Story That Changed Everything**
Emma was busy with her preserves—jarring pickled vegetables—when the doorbell rang unexpectedly. Her husband, Oliver, wasn’t home; he’d gone out on business and taken his keys. Only their daughter, Sophie, was inside with her. *Who could that be?* she muttered, wiping her hands as she walked to the door.
On the doorstep stood a boy, about ten years old. A stranger. Neatly dressed, a backpack over his shoulders, but his eyes—serious, far too old for his age.
“Good afternoon,” he said politely. “I need to speak to your husband. Is he in?”
Emma hesitated. “No, he’s not… What do you need him for? Maybe I can help?”
“No. Only him. It’s important.”
Her chest tightened. She didn’t know what to say.
“I’ll come back later. When does he usually get home?”
“He’s in and out… Who *are* you? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing yet. But it will be. Goodbye.”
Emma watched him walk away, unnerved. *What on earth?* Why would a child need her husband? How did he even know him? All day, she couldn’t shake the unease. That evening, when Oliver returned, she told him immediately.
“A boy came by today. Around ten years old. Said he needed to talk to you urgently. Wouldn’t say why.”
“What rubbish? I don’t know any boy. Maybe he got the wrong house.”
“No, he knew your name. Said it had to be you.”
Oliver shrugged and went to shower. But Emma couldn’t stop turning it over. *Who was he?* Could it be… his son? Some secret child? Oliver had been with other women before her… A name flashed through her mind—*Charlotte*. Years ago, he’d nearly married her. Maybe she’d gotten pregnant. Maybe she never told him.
The next day, she broached it carefully.
“Ollie, remember that woman you almost married? What was her name again?”
“Why bring that up? Forgotten and don’t care. Charlotte.”
“Just curious. You know about my exes, but I barely know yours.”
Emma searched for Charlotte on social media, but her surname must have changed—nothing turned up. All she could do was wait and see if the boy returned.
Days later, Oliver announced he was going away for work.
“A town over. No one else will go. Mr. Thompson insisted.”
Emma tensed. He hadn’t traveled for work in years. The boy’s words gnawed at her: *Something could happen.* Her gut screamed it—*something’s wrong.*
Then, the night before Oliver was set to leave, the boy appeared again. Emma pulled him inside.
“Tell me what you need to say to him. I’m his wife. I’ll make sure he hears it. What’s your name?”
“Ethan. You see… My mum told me in a dream. She said your husband can’t go. If he does, he won’t come back.”
“Ethan, what are you talking about? What mum?”
“She died five years ago. But she comes in my dreams. Always warns me. My nan says we’re connected… She loved me so much. I never met my dad. Only know Mum from photos. But lately, she’s been dreaming a lot. Gave me your address. Said only *he* needed to know.”
Emma fell silent, chills crawling over her skin.
“You don’t know who he is to your mum?”
“No. But she was clear—he can’t go. No matter what.”
After Ethan left, Emma shut the door, panic swelling in her chest. She didn’t believe in ghosts… but this was too real to ignore.
Oliver left the next morning. Emma tried to distract herself with chores. Then, after lunch, the call came.
“Em, don’t freak out… I’m fine. But… something weird just happened.”
*”What?!”*
“I was driving. Had music on. Then—this woman stepped right into the road. Out of nowhere. I swerved, hit the barrier… The car in front of me? It flipped. The crash—people died. *I* should’ve been there.”
“My God…”
“I don’t know who she was. Just appeared. Then vanished. If not for her—I’d be gone.”
That evening, Oliver came home shaken.
“You don’t think… it was her, do you? Ethan’s mum?”
“Oliver… that’s not a coincidence.”
“It *isn’t,* Ollie. I *feel* it.”
The next day, the truth hit him.
“I remember. Five years ago—there was a fire. I walked past, saw people just *standing* there, too scared to go in. I couldn’t just… I ran inside. Found a boy. Got him out. His mother… didn’t make it.”
They went to the address Ethan had given. His grandmother answered.
“Yes, he lives here. My grandson. His mum died in that fire. *You* saved him. I’ve always been so grateful… He doesn’t remember much. Just the photos. But he dreams of her. I don’t.”
“She saved *me*…”
“Clara was always… different. Would you like to see?”
The photo she handed over left no doubt. *Her.* Oliver knew her face instantly.
Then Ethan walked in.
“Mum said you’re alive. She’s happy. But you can *never* take that road again. She won’t save you next time. You have to promise.”
“Thank you, Ethan. And your mum. Fancy being mates? My little girl’s too young for fishing. But you and me—we’ll go. Football, anything you like. What d’you say?”
Ethan nodded quietly. Emma cried—for fate’s mercy, for the dream that had saved a life.
