{"id":2552,"date":"2025-04-11T20:33:54","date_gmt":"2025-04-11T20:33:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/?p=2552"},"modified":"2025-04-11T20:34:00","modified_gmt":"2025-04-11T20:34:00","slug":"friday-night-i-dreamed-of-my-husband-standing-in-a-cemetery-then-i-woke-up-to-a-call-from-the-hospital","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/?p=2552","title":{"rendered":"Friday night, I dreamed of my husband standing in a cemetery \u2014 then I woke up to a call from the hospital."},"content":{"rendered":"

After dreaming of her husband in a graveyard, June wakes to a chilling phone call\u2014only to stumble upon a nightmare in her own backyard. As the line between dream and reality blurs, she must face love, loss, and a miracle that defies explanation.<\/strong><\/p>\n

That night, I dreamt in grey.<\/p>\n

The air was heavy, thick with fog that pressed down like forgotten memories. I walked through a cemetery I didn\u2019t recognize, but somehow my feet knew exactly where to go. Each step crunched over gravel. Somewhere in the distance, wind chimes rang, out of sync with time.<\/p>\n

My heart pounded.<\/p>\n

And then\u2026 I saw him. Wyatt. My husband.<\/p>\n

He stood still beside a grave I couldn\u2019t read, hands tucked into his coat pockets, his eyes fixed on mine. He didn\u2019t speak. He just raised his hand in a slow, deliberate wave.<\/p>\n

“Wyatt?” I called out, moving toward him. “What are you doing here?”<\/p>\n

Before he could answer\u2014<\/p>\n

The ringing began.<\/p>\n

I jolted awake, breath catching in my chest. His side of the bed was untouched\u2014smooth and cold. I fumbled for my phone.<\/p>\n

Unknown number.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello?\u201d My voice barely sounded like mine.<\/p>\n

A woman answered, calm and clinical.
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry to inform you, but your husband\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

The words hung in the air like smoke. My mouth went dry.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean? Wyatt\u2019s supposed to be home! He just worked a late shift\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

There was silence.
\n\u201cI\u2019m\u2026 sorry. I think I called the wrong number. Please forgive me.\u201d<\/p>\n

And she hung up.<\/p>\n

I stared into the dark, heart racing, dread creeping up my spine. 4:17 A.M. No messages. No sign of Wyatt. I stumbled to the kitchen for water\u2014anything to steady my trembling hands.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s when I saw him.<\/p>\n

Through the window, under a bruised moon\u2014Wyatt, floating face down in our backyard pool.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t breathe.<\/p>\n

For a split second, I was frozen. Then I exploded into motion. I tore open the sliding door and sprinted barefoot into the cold grass.<\/p>\n

\u201cWyatt!\u201d I screamed, falling to my knees at the pool\u2019s edge. I plunged my arms in and dragged him out with everything I had.<\/p>\n

He was ice. Lips blue. Silent. Still.<\/p>\n

I called 911 with shaking hands, voice breaking as I sobbed, begging them to hurry. Then I started compressions.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome back to me, Wyatt. Please…\u201d<\/p>\n

I did CPR. Again. And again.<\/p>\n

And then\u2014he gasped.<\/p>\n

Wet and broken and beautiful. He coughed, water spilling out, life clawing its way back in.<\/p>\n

I collapsed against him, sobbing. Sirens screamed in the distance. Red and blue lights sliced through the night.<\/p>\n

He was alive.<\/p>\n

At the hospital, I sat shivering in the waiting room, my soaked sweater clinging to me like fear. Everything was too quiet. Too still.<\/p>\n

Time didn\u2019t move\u2014it pulsed.<\/p>\n

When the doctor finally approached, she looked worn but kind.
\n\u201cHe\u2019s stable, June. You saved his life.\u201d<\/p>\n

I exhaled a breath I didn\u2019t realize I\u2019d been holding.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut we found something else\u2014a serious heart condition. It\u2019s probably been there for years.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her words floated past me. Then I heard it\u2014the voice.<\/p>\n

Familiar. So familiar.<\/p>\n

The receptionist. The one who just spoke. I knew that voice. It was hers\u2014the one from the call.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou called me earlier,\u201d I said, barely above a whisper.<\/p>\n

She looked confused.
\n\u201cNo, ma\u2019am. I\u2019ve been here all night. You\u2019re my last patient before I clock out.\u201d<\/p>\n

But the voice\u2026 it was<\/em> her.<\/p>\n

I felt the world shift.<\/p>\n

Something had woken me. Pulled me from that dream. Made me look out that window. But what? Or who?<\/p>\n

Whatever it was, it hadn\u2019t come to take. It had come to warn<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Wyatt lay asleep, monitors blinking beside him. I kissed his forehead, whispered I\u2019d be back, and wandered until I found the hospital cafeteria.<\/p>\n

I bought coffee I wouldn\u2019t drink and a muffin I wouldn\u2019t eat. Just to feel normal<\/em>. Just to feel something<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Eventually, I ended up in a quiet hallway. A sign read: Psychiatry & Counseling<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

I knocked.<\/p>\n

A kind-eyed woman let me in. I told her everything\u2014the dream, the call, the pool, the voice, the miracle.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t flinch.<\/p>\n

\u201cJune,\u201d she said softly. \u201cWhat happened to you was terrifying… and beautiful. Maybe it was your subconscious. Maybe it was something bigger. But maybe that part doesn\u2019t matter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow could I know?\u201d I asked. \u201cBefore anything happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause love does that,\u201d she said. \u201cSometimes, it reaches across the veil, across time, across reason. You were never alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

And for the first time since it began, I let myself believe that might be true.<\/p>\n

Later, Wyatt woke.<\/p>\n

\u201cJune,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m here,\u201d I said, grabbing his hand.<\/p>\n

He looked at me, eyes glassy.
\n\u201cI remember\u2026 I was somewhere cold. Like I was being pulled. And then\u2026 I saw you. Crying. I couldn\u2019t leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

I wept all over again.<\/p>\n

That night, in a hospital bathroom, I collapsed. Cried for the version of him that didn\u2019t come back. For the me who nearly drowned in that dream.<\/p>\n

Then I remembered a conversation from months ago.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I die before you,\u201d Wyatt had joked, \u201cyou better not meet someone else. I\u2019ll haunt your butt.\u201d<\/p>\n

I\u2019d laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou? A ghost?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d be annoying,\u201d he grinned. \u201cFlickering lights. Cold feet. Whatever it takes. I\u2019d want you to save me. Even if I was already gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

Maybe\u2026 just maybe\u2026 that\u2019s exactly what happened.<\/p>\n

Wyatt sleeps beside me now, his hand in mine. We\u2019ll face this together. Whatever it is. However long we get.<\/p>\n

And maybe\u2014just maybe\u2014love really can<\/em> scream loud enough to reach across the divide.<\/p>\n

Because something woke me that night.<\/p>\n

And it didn\u2019t come for death.<\/p>\n

It came for us<\/em>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

After dreaming of her husband in a graveyard, June wakes to a chilling phone call\u2014only to stumble upon a nightmare in her own backyard. As […]<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2553,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2552","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2552","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2552"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2552\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2555,"href":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2552\/revisions\/2555"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2553"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2552"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2552"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ivermectinhuma.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2552"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}