A few months before my husband's death, I had the same type of dreams every night. Now we are looking for a place to build a house, then my husband has already begun to build housing, then we bought an apartment … I knew that these dreams are not good, they promise death.
And since we are looking for housing together, we will "leave" together. In my last dream, I saw a house - a large, two-story one. There is a beautiful bright hall and a winding black staircase leading upstairs. I remember in a dream I scolded my husband for the mourning color of the stairs, said that I would not live in this house, but he laughed.
Last meeting
In the morning I tried to forget about night visions, but it didn’t work. Then she began to pray to the Lord to give us some more to live. She said that I wanted to wait for my grandchildren. After a while, obsessive thoughts began to visit me: “Here my husband dies, I will distribute all his things and finally throw out this bulky old closet. The coffin must be placed along the floorboards, not across, otherwise there will still be a dead person. No, I will not bury him from home, but from the morgue. Do I have enough glasses for the commemoration? I felt creepy from such thoughts. I tried to calm myself down, but deep down I knew that my husband would be gone soon.
On that day, leaving for work, I scolded my spouse for coming from the night shift drunk. After leaving the threshold and slamming the door, I suddenly heard a voice in my head: “Come back! You won't see him again! " I froze in place, cold. Our whole life flashed before our eyes in seconds. Tears ran down my cheeks. I wanted to hug my husband, hug him, say something kind. My heart was breaking in my chest. I was ready to return, but another voice said: “Drive away bad thoughts. Everything will be fine. Go and work. " "Of course everything will be fine. That I, in fact, became kind of suspicious,”I decided and went to work.
I never saw my husband alive again. When she returned, he was dead. Two blood clots came off from him. For a year and a half I roared day and night. No sedatives helped me. I could not forgive myself for not returning home then. Only with the birth of her grandson did she begin to recover a little. I began to read literature about life after death. The books "Revelations of Guardian Angels" also helped. I have heard many stories about life after death from friends.
Promotional video:
Fence in the underground
This is what my friend Raisa Nazipovna said.
- After the death of my husband, I was left alone. The son and his family live in another city. She cried a lot, often went to the cemetery. Home is sad, continuous memories of the past. I went to the dacha. It's good that it was summer, warm. I was busy in the beds, communicated with neighbors. And somehow it became easier. In the evening, going to bed, I thought: it would be nice to put up a fence and take a place next to my husband. That's just a little tight with money. My husband is dreaming at night. He asks me to go down to the underground in the garden house. He says there is a fence, he cooked it himself. I woke up and decided that it was because of my thoughts that I had such a dream. Why did he need to cook the fence during his lifetime, and to whom? But the next night I see the same dream again. It became uncomfortable. I asked my neighbor to go down to the underground. And what do you think? There was a fence for the grave, as my husband said. When my son came to visit me,we took her to the cemetery and installed. How is this possible, I don’t know.
Black shirt
The story of another friend, Anna Alekseevna.
- For help in organizing my husband's funeral, I decided to thank my neighbor who lives on the floor below. I thought of buying him a shirt, but I couldn't choose which one to take: either a light one-color one, or a black one with lurex. I bought a black one. The neighbor was delighted with the gift. He took his shirt and said, as it should be: "The kingdom of heaven to the servant of God Nicholas."
The next day, the sister of my late husband from another city calls me (she buried her spouse Slavik about six years ago) and says: “Listen, today Slavik dreamed of me, asked me to convey greetings from your Nikolai. He asks, what did you send him a black shirt, was it lighter? I was even speechless. After all, I did not tell anyone about my purchase. This means that there is something that we do not yet know.
Where does the money lie
The story of my neighbor Baba Mani.
- The husband often drank. I didn’t give him money, but he collected scrap metal and handed it over, and hid the stash in the garage. After another binge, he felt bad, and he soon died. Having buried him, I decided to sell the garage. There was so much rubbish that I shook it out for two months. I also wanted to find a stash, but in vain. Four ^ days left before the signing of the sales contract, and now my husband comes in a dream. The sad one is standing, looking at me.
“Well,” I say to him, “died ?! Where can I get money for your monument? My pension will not be enough. Have you thought about it? " The husband replies: “And you, Man, look in the cellar. There, behind the stairs, one brick is being taken out. Put your hand away and pull out the iron can. Nails are poured on top. You shake them off, there are money in a bag under them. Forgive me, Manyushka, it's hard for me."
The next day I ran to the garage. I found the brick and the jar where the money is. And there were a lot of them, I must say. I ordered my husband an annual commemoration in the church and put a good monument. And I still had enough money for living.
Irina Albertovna Shishkova, Kazan