Fast forward five years when my own daughter was four. She was having a restless night, so I awakened her to cuddle and comfort. She then told me that she dreamed she died in a fire. She was trying to get out but there was white smoke everywhere and she couldn’t see. (She gave other details that I’ll omit for brevity) She said she wasn’t scared, she just couldn’t see and she fell. She recounted that then she woke up. She never mentioned another word about that dream.
I never asked my brother or sister-in-law about that night because losing their child had a devastating impact on them. Months later, when we (my sister-in-law and myself) were discussing what kind of person she might have been, I asked if I could ask her a personal question about that night. I asked her that besides losing Dee, was there anything that stood out about that experience.
She replied that until they opened the door to leave, the fire was contained within the walls and air wasn’t hot but what she most remembered is that the whole house looked like they were in a cloud because there were billows of pure white smoke.
