How can we be sure there really is life after death?
MY HUSBAND, Gene, sat straight up in bed one morning and announced he’d had a dream. I guessed it must have been some dream.
“It was actually a dream within a dream,” Gene said, the words tumbling out with excitement. “My father and his two brothers were standing around laughing, smoking cigars, happy as can be, looking younger and more spiffy than when they were alive. I was glad to see them, but knew I had to get right to the point. I didn’t have much time to ask the one question I had for them. ‘Is there life after death?’ I blurted out to the trio.
“Their mouths didn’t move, and they kept their happy demeanor. But they had an answer for me, sure as can be: ‘Look for pennies in strange places.’ With my question answered, they turned and walked away, my dad waving at me over his shoulder. The scene was fading fast, but I’m sure I was there with them—or they were here with me,” Gene said. “Odd, huh. That was the answer to my question. ‘Look for pennies in strange places.’ What a message.”
Pennies in strange places, I thought. A chill ran up my spine. “Gene,” I said, “I didn’t think to tell you what happened to me yesterday.…”
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