When I was seven, my father's older brother, Gary, came to live with us after he got divorced. He was planning to stay with us a while, so my parents began fixing up a bedroom in our unfinished basement. The first night he was there, he was going to sleep with my 3 year old brother, as he had a full sized bed in his room. My little brother couldn't stand for someone to sleep with him, so he would have none of it, and that evening threw such a fuss that Gary ended up sleeping the remainder of his stay on the sofa bed in the living room.
Not even a couple of months after moving in, Gary died of a massive heart attack in his sleep, at the age of 34, while on a business trip in another state. The entire time he lived with us, my mother had a reoccurring dream that my father had died. In her dream she could clearly see my father in the casket and my uncle and his ex-wife standing in front of it. My mom had not seen my aunt in a while, and in the dream she had long hair, whereas last she'd seen her her hair was short.
At the funeral, my mom realized what she had been dreaming. My uncle had been dead a while before he was found, and was swollen. He looked more like my heavy set father in the casket. And there was my dad and Gary's ex-wife, who now had long hair, standing in front of the casket.
After the funeral my parents came to pick up me, my brother and sister, as we didn't go. When we got home the entire house smelled of carnations for several hours. About the time the smell went away we were all getting ready for bed.
My brother had been in bed not even half an hour when he started angrily yelling. We all went running to his room. He looked at my mother and said "Get Gary out of my bed!". He was sitting up, pointing next to him, adamant that Gary was indeed there and she needed to make him get out. My mother tried to convince my brother that Gary wasn't there, but he was starting to convince her that he was. He said "Yes he is, and I want him out of my bed now!". This went on for a couple of minutes. Then my brother laid back down, satisfied Gary was no longer there.
A few days after this incident my mom was riding to work with the next door neighbor, telling the story. As she told the story she started to smell carnations. The neighbor said she smelled it too, and that the smell was strong.
My mother told me about her dreams when I was about 9, and also told me some other strange things she had noticed before he died. I was pretty freaked the night my bother threw a tantrum, demanding we make my just buried uncle get out of his bed. My brother doesn't remember it, but the rest of the family will never forget.
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