No ghosts for me. But two visitations on the night they died. First was my childhood dog. He still lived at home with my folks. I was on spring break with my now-wife in NOLA. Woke up, and told her about a super-vivid dream I had about my dog. We spent a log time in the open field behind my house, where he used to love to run. Again, it was so vivid, I told her about it. A couple days later, we head back to Austin and make a stop at my parents’ house. We get in, and I ask about my dog. My mom shakes her head. “He died in his sleep while you were gone.” Yep, on the night I had my dream. But the one that still bugs me is my friend who was in my dream the night he was murdered (he was beaten to death by a crooked cop he’d gotten mixed up with, but nobody could make any charges go anywhere). We were not super close, but we had a friendship that was based on mutual respect and deep trust. He was a smart dude. In my dream, we were being chased by some sinister dudes through West Campus. It was fucking intense and terrifying. At one point, we made it to an alley where we caught a breather, and we decided that it made sense to split up. We did, and after a while, I realized nobody was after me, I’d shaken them. So I started looking for Tom. I couldn’t find him. I looked all over. I woke up upset that I couldn’t find him. He was found in a coma that morning, after being beaten overnight. He died two days later, never regaining consciousness. I’d never had a dream with him in it before or since.