After my brother shot himself i was sad of course, but also really fucking angry. I was mad as fuck at him because we hadn't talked in 6 months before he died. It was his fault, he had taken a ton of drugs and come over to my house high as a kite, snatched my 6 week old child out of her swing and ran outside with her into the night to hold her up to the moon. That was the last of his shit i could take, loved him and stood by him as he threatened to stab me to death, but my kid, uh-uh. So we stopped talking and then he took the cowards way out and we never made up.
Anyway, the night before his funeral everyone kept saying how they had felt him and stuff and that they knew he was ok. And I hadn't. In fact I thought it was a load of shit. But I really wanted to feel him, and tell hi I was sorry for not talking to him, for not seeing what was going on. So before i went to bed i asked him to please let me know something, anything.
I had a dream I was sitting in a car at the store, waiting for him. And I could tell I had been waiting for awhile, cause i was pissed. And just as I was going to get out of the car to go find him he leaned down in the window and said "Hey! You been waiting long?"
I knew it was really him. It scared me so bad i woke up. But i knew. And every once i a while he says hello again. In my dream he knows he is dead, he doesn't pretend that he isn't. He never makes mention of a "life after death" but we know he is just visiting. I know he isn't alive, but for awhile i forget and it is nice.
Do I believe in ghosts? Not really. Do i love the dreams i have once a year or so? Very much so.