I don't know what to do, but I feel like I can get some answers if I share this with everyone. My name is Nick, I'm 14, and I live with my old man. Most of the time, he's away on business trips. He plays a very important role in the business. Every morning, I wake up strangely. I usually flinch and jerk out of bed, not knowing why since I can't recall the images of what I saw in my dreams. I'm trying to cope with the only vision I get out of it though. I see my father's grave. I know it like the back of my hand now! It flashes in my head every day! 

Here lies a great father,

Nicholas Cambridge


My dad is 33 right now, and it scares me because if you do the math, it says he'll die when he's 33 years of age.

I need to see what it is that is in my head when I sleep, but I think I can't see it because it has something to do with my father's death. It’s like I'm unable to because it's taboo to me, but maybe not to others. So I'll do something that is so superstitious, it’s ridiculous. I'll use a dream catcher just once. Maybe I can capture bits and parts of the nightmare. I hung it on the wall and slipped into what seem like my demise, but nevertheless I'll charge forward head on. I hope this works.

I jerked up and instantly started to concentrate. What did I see? What did I see? I stared at the dream catcher and almost instantly saw my father in a plane. I immediately picked up my phone and dialed my father's phone number.

It started to ring and my father answered, "Hello?"

I caught my breath and said, "Dad, please don't get on any planes! Stay in a car on the way home! I'm begging you!"

My father chuckled. "What's wrong, son?"

I gripped my phone and told him. "Dad, lately I've been waking up these nightmares. I keep seeing your gravestone!"

My father sighed. "Son, it's just because you’re worried about me. Don't worry, planes are safe now. Goodbye, don't forget to do your chores. "

I paused. There was nothing I could do, "Dad," I was holding back tears, "I love you so much."

There was a long pause. "I love you, too, Nick. And don't worry, even if I do die today, I'll always be with you okay? I love you, son."

The next morning, I jerked myself awake again to see if my father was home. He wasn't. I turned the TV onto the news, and just like I had thought, my father's plane had crashed right outside the airport with fourteen injured and one dead.

I now sit in front of my father's gravestone. I see images of close friends and family members dying somehow. Some are grotesque, some are very heart touching, and some are just soft and easy. Is it a curse? Is it a blessing? Do I warn them? Do I not warn them? Help me, please.