I came on this site, because I want some answers and opinions, from people who are not closed minded. I do not have many friends so I don't have anyone to really talk to about this.
I received a dog when I was 7 years old, she lived until I was 15. I loved her so much. She was my best friend. I was kind of abused as a child, VERY bad in the mental part. When I would go outside to hide or whatever, she would come sit with me. She was always there for me.
I told her bye for 8 years every morning before I headed to the bus and every afternoon when I returned home. But this day, I didn't. Why? Why didn't I tell her? She had recently had heartworm surgery, and the doctor said the chances were high she could die afterwards because of her age. I didn't think she would. Yes, I do feel bad that I didn't tell her bye that die.
This was 10 years ago. I have had a dream before, that made me confused. In the dream, an angel came to me and my brother and had Muffin with her. She said to us to meet her back at the end of the day. At the end, I asked the angel why muffin didn't remember us? She said "I made her not remember you. If she remembered you, she would be to sad to leave you again."
The second dream I had was 2 nights ago. This time she came again to spend time with me. She was soooooooo happy.
Sometimes I feel like this is real like she really is visiting me. I don't know if I believe in God, so this makes me so confused. It's not just an ordinary dream. Its so much different. I want the answer to be YES SHE DOES so bad because I miss her and I would do anything if one day I will see her again!
The question is, why don't I have these dreams about others, why doesn't anyone else visit me? IF this is real.
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We had several cats seven years ago but one was my guy's favourite, a tom called Blacky. This animal then got into a car crash, its head was split open; we found it, and at once headed to the next pet surgeon. P was at the steering-wheel, half-mad with pain, eyes half-blind with tears, he drove as fast as if he were the devil, while poor Blacky, in the cargo cage, was howling with that hollow voice which dying cats have. We gave Blacky to the surgeon, and sped home, and P was weeping in his room, and I was in the kitchen waiting for the surgeon's call. Then the phone rang and the doctor told me he had had to euthanasize Blacky, no chance for salvation, base of skull broken. I at once went in to P to tell him. There P said to me, to my big astonishment: "I have seen Blacky's face before me, some minutes ago; and I heard a deep male voice saying "Don't be sad" and I think it was Blacky's soul that said this!" I researched a bit as to timing and found that the moment when P had seen the cat's face, and heard the voice, must have been quite exactly the moment of euthanasia.