Dream a little dream of me...

Before I taught first grade, I was a fourth grade teacher for ten years.  I worked closely with an amazing teacher named Jane Brown. 

 

Not only was Jane an incredible teacher she was just a classy, classy woman.  She and her husband, however, were never able have children of their own.  Her brother and his wife had three lovely daughters, with whom Jane was very, very close.

 

One summer, when these particular girls were in their teens, I had a strange dream.  I was visiting with my sister in July, and while there I dreamed of running into Jane in a local department store.  She was with two of her nieces, and I remember that in my dream I commented to her, “Jane, I thought you had three nieces.”  To which she replied, “No, just two.”

 

I returned home several days later, with that dream lingering in my heart, gnawing at me uneasily.

 

Upon my return I received a phone call from the music teacher in our building.  “Vodkamom, I wanted to call and tell you that Jane’s oldest niece was killed in a car accident last week.  I knew you’d want to know.”

 

Stunned, I hung up the phone. 

 

Dreams. 

 

They are fascinating, aren’t they? And sometimes, downright scary.