by Kaylin Kaupish
When we sleep, our minds are at rest with no distractions, making us more open to receiving communication from the divine. This communication often comes in the form of dreams. These dreams can bring us comfort, guide us through difficult times, and even save lives! Here are ten remarkable stories of times when God spoke directly to people through their dreams.
My grandmother lived with my family when I was a kid. She helped around the house and made life easier for us. At age 67, her heart gave out in her sleep. Her health had been good. Losing her so suddenly was a shock.
Throughout the years, during difficult times, she comforted me in dreams. But this was the first time she was so alarmed. The third night, I had the dream again. Finally, I understood: She wanted me to go to the hospital. I woke up shaking. Otherwise, I felt fine. What could be wrong? Then it dawned on me. My problem was the same as hers—the heart.
I told my husband we had to go to the ER. “Better safe than sorry, I guess,” he said. I didn’t even pack a bag—I didn’t think they would admit me. The ER nurse took my case seriously—and it was serious. An EKG showed a heart tumor that can cause an embolism and can quickly lead to death. Three days later, I was in surgery. “You’re lucky,” my doctor said. “Most people with this just die in their sleep. There usually isn’t any warning sign.” There was for me. —Denise LaGreca Bedford, New York
“One of my parishioners had a dream last night that I want to share with you,” said Pastor Garry, a close friend of ours. He’d called my wife, Angie, and me after his service. He described the woman’s dream, about a family standing in a beautiful green pasture, surrounded by a glowing triangle, happy and safe. “I asked everyone to pray for you during your move,” he said. “She thinks her dream is a sign you’ll be all right.”
We thanked him for his call. We were planning to move from our home in Oklahoma to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, to pursue a job opportunity. It was a big change, and we were nervous.
When we got to Lancaster, things were tough. The cost of living was higher than we expected, making it hard to find a house. I wondered if we’d made a mistake.
A few weeks later, Angie and I were driving through town in the early morning. I noticed a glow ahead of us and sped up to get a better look. It was an Amish cart, a not uncommon sight in Lancaster. The glow was from a reflector on the back, illuminated by our headlights. Angie and I looked at each other in disbelief. Could it be?
We got our answer weeks later. We found the perfect house in the heart of Amish country and settled in, happy and safe—surrounded by glowing triangle reflectors. —Jeffery Taylor, Palm Coast, Florida
Light swirled around me, a beautiful palette of white and gold. I felt an all-pervasive sense of calm. And there was Lucky, my border collie. Sitting on his haunches, looking up expectantly and a little anxiously, as if waiting for something. But how was I seeing him? He’d died more than a year earlier....
Riiing! The sound of my phone jolted me out of sleep. Was that just a dream? It had felt so real! I picked up the phone. My friend Jan was calling.
“It’s Elvis,” she said. Her 12-year-old Australian shepherd had been Lucky’s best friend. The vet said Elvis didn’t have much time. Jan and I had gotten our dogs around the same time. We’d met up at my house every month to catch up. After Jan got Elvis, she would bring him with her. Lucky and Elvis hit it off immediately and, over the years, delighted in each other’s company. They’d pad around the house, race each other in the backyard and curl up on the back porch while Jan and I caught up over tea.
A few hours later, Jan called again. She’d had to put Elvis down.
That next night, I went to bed, feeling blue. Soon I was dreaming, back in that peaceful place. There was Lucky. This time, I saw a doggie smile creep across his face. Then I noticed another dog next to him, looking equally at peace. Elvis. —Gloria J. Weber, Blasdell, New York
Boarding my train at the station, dressed in a sleeveless white top and my favorite blue skirt, I felt like a million bucks. It was my day off from my job as a ticket agent for United Airlines, and I was traveling from Manhattan to visit my friend Cynthia in Stony Brook, Long Island. I settled by a window and closed my eyes as other passengers filed in and took their seats.
The train pulled out, and soon its gentle rocking had put me into a drowsy trance.
All at once, I saw a vision of myself covered with blood, streaks of crimson blotting my white top. I tried to move. My limbs were frozen. I looked around the car for help, but everyone just stayed put in their seats. Why weren’t they helping me? Didn’t they notice? Was I dreaming? Or was this really happening?
I shook my head and woke up. I looked down. No blood. No crimson streaks. Nothing but a clean white top. Yet the horrific image lingered in my mind. I couldn’t stay there—I had to change seats. Still dazed, I got up and moved back a few rows.
Minutes before the train arrived at Stony Brook...BAM! A stray bullet shattered one of the train windows, spraying glass onto the seat—right where I’d been sitting. Fortunately, no one was hurt. — Gloria Schmidt, Tucson, Arizona
I walked down the dimly lit street, a bodega sign dancing in the distance. Not another soul in sight. Before I could make much sense of my surroundings, I heard it. Meow! A small cat at my feet, black fur shining. The cat jumped into my arms, and the streetlights went out. In the darkness, all I could see was the glint of her emerald eyes. I felt a strange peace come over me....
I woke up in bed with a start. What in the world? I’d never had a dream quite that vivid before. In fact, these days, anxiety dreams were far more common. I was stressed at work; things weren’t good with my boyfriend. Some nights, I barely slept. I’d tried everything I could to relieve my stress. Yoga, meditation, exercise—you name it. Nothing helped.
I tried to put the dream out of my head and focus on surviving another day. I made it! Then my boyfriend and I got into a tiff via text. My subway got delayed on my way home. By the time I got to my apartment, I was done. But something was waiting for me on the building’s steps. Normally, I would’ve waved her off as just another stray. But I couldn’t now. Not after the dream. That black fur, those same green eyes...
Tuna, as I named her, has been with me ever since. My emerald-eyed companion. The cat of my dreams. Literally. —Virginia Smith, Brooklyn, New York
It was Thanksgiving, 2003. I was 21 years old and still living at home with my parents. After dinner, I lay down for a nap.
I usually have vivid dreams. But the one I had that day felt different. In it, I saw a wood plaque with the number 28. There was other writing as well, but when I tried to read it, the text separated from the plaque and drifted away. Then the number grew larger, zooming closer and closer. Twenty-eight.
I awoke with a start. What did it mean? As I regained my bearings, I remembered that the next day was November 28. Could my dream have been a warning? I had plans to go to the movies with my boyfriend at 9 p.m. I felt unsettled by the whole experience, so I called and told him we could go on one condition: I needed to be home before midnight. Just like Cinderella. He agreed.
The movie was great, and my boyfriend got me home before midnight, as promised. I was probably worried for nothing, I thought as I drifted off to sleep. The next morning, my boyfriend’s mother called. He’d had a seizure while driving home. His car had gone off the road and down an embankment. The guardrail had speared the windshield, impaling the passenger seat. My boyfriend was okay, but anyone beside him would’ve been killed instantly. —Renea Bell, Millers Creek, North Carolina
My son, Steven, was killed in a car crash when he was 21 years old. His truck had hit black ice and skidded off the road. He died on impact. Still, I was haunted by the fear he must’ve felt during those last few seconds. I struggled to understand why God would allow this to happen.
In the days following his death, I could sleep for only a few hours at a time. It was during one of these restless, short stretches that I had the most incredible dream.
In it, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. Steven was sitting on the edge of my bed. We hugged tightly. It felt so real. I could feel the fabric of his corduroy coat, smell Azzaro Chrome (his favorite cologne) and feel the roughness of his beard scratching my cheek.
“I’m okay,” he said. “Please don’t worry about me.”
I begged him to stay, but he shook his head. “I’m allowed to come back only to tell you I’m okay,” he said. Then he slipped from my grasp.
I woke up with tears streaming down my cheeks. Dazed, I went to the bathroom to wash up. But when I looked in the mirror, I froze. There, on my cheek, was a distinct beard burn. The marks from his visit remained for three days. A comforting reminder that Steven was at peace. —Jeannie Hughes, Hurricane, West Virginia
A glowing man stood before me, a look of concern on his face. “I am sorry,” he said. “I can’t help her.”
I woke up abruptly and shot out of bed, my heart racing.
I rarely have dreams. When I do, I can barely remember them. But this one had been startling. The man in the dream and I had been discussing my dog’s health problems. Angel, a Shih Tzu, has allergies so bad, she has to wear a special allergy collar. The man had sounded worried for me when he said he couldn’t help Angel. Now I rushed to find her.
I searched all over. As I got near the walk-in closet, I heard a terrifying sound. Choking. Angel was in the back corner, her allergy collar tangled with her regular collar, which was twisting tightly around her neck. She was suffocating. I ran to her side and quickly removed both collars. She gasped for air. I scooped her up, holding her in my arms until her breathing returned to normal. Angel was fine, but I was still shaking. Without the warning the dream had given me, I would never have even known Angel needed my help.
Now I always remove Angel’s regular collar before putting on the allergy collar. And the glowing man who delivered that message? I’ve never dreamed of him again. —Stan Rainbolt, Lewisville, Texas
I was standing in the backyard of a big Victorian house. I recognized it from my hometown. Children used to live there while they were waiting for permanent homes.
The doors of the house opened, and a line of little girls came out. They walked by, none of them looking at me.
All except one. This girl was about 10 years old, with long black hair and beautiful brown eyes. I’d never seen her before. She stared directly at me. It looked as if she was trying to tell me something important. No, urgent. Her eyes were wide, imploring. Help me, they said. But I didn’t know how.
“What am I supposed to do?” I said. Then I woke up.
What could the dream mean? It felt pressing, but I wasn’t sure why. I turned over in bed and slowly drifted back to sleep. I could still picture the little girl’s face, her big brown eyes locked on mine, pleading.
A few months later, I spotted an ad for an international charity that helped children in need. I decided to sponsor a child.
As I scrolled through the roster of kids available for sponsorship, I found myself at a loss for which one to pick. Until my eyes fell on a familiar face. The little girl with brown eyes and long black hair. The very girl from my dream. —Mary-Hope Milligan, Statesville, North Carolina
The dream was unlike any I’d ever had before or since. It felt so real. With total clarity, I saw a man and a woman stranded at sea in a lifeboat, no land in sight. It was night. They were terrified. Although I wasn’t with them in the boat, I felt somehow involved in their plight, almost as if they were pleading for my help.
Still inside my dream, I prayed repeatedly, Lord, that couple needs you. Please come to their rescue. Please save them somehow.
I awoke in tears. It was dark out. Looking at my clock, I saw that it was hours before my alarm would go off and I would have to get up for work.
It was just a nightmare, I told myself. But the sense that the couple was out there, waiting for help, kept me up for a while before I calmed down enough to fall fitfully back to sleep.
On my drive to the law office in Atlanta where I worked as a legal secretary, I couldn’t stop thinking about the dream. I switched on the radio for a distraction, just in time to hear the newscaster breathlessly report breaking news: “A couple stranded in a lifeboat off the Georgia coast has been rescued early this morning....”
Thanks, he said, to a cargo liner that had strangely gone off course in the middle of the night and come upon them in the dark sea. —Jean Rogers, St. Pete Beach, Florida
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