It happened to my mother and me, and it wasn’t a pleasant dream. I went to bed as usual, feeling okay and thinking about the day ahead. I don’t remember when the dream began, but I do remember waking up deeply unsettled.
The dream itself was simple at first: I was at a family gathering, surrounded by a lavish spread on the dining table. The setting was my grandmother’s apartment, and it felt like a celebration was underway. I could hear the lively chatter of the crowd in the other room, but I was preoccupied in the dining area, circling the table and admiring the feast.
At some point, I nearly bumped into someone. When I looked up, I immediately recognized him as someone significant from the Bible. Startled, I stepped back and apologized. But as I did, his expression changed—his welcoming smile turned to anger. A realization struck me: the party was being held in his honor, yet he wasn’t who he claimed to be. He was an impostor.
“You don’t believe who I am?” he asked, his tone accusatory.
“You are not him!” I insisted, backing away. His face twisted, growing uglier and angrier with every passing moment. The encounter was so intense that, much to my relief, I woke up. But I was shaken.
When I got up, my mother noticed something was off and asked if I was okay. I told her I had a bad dream and began recounting it. To my astonishment, she started filling in the details before I could even finish. When I reached the part about the impostor, she interrupted and said, “He wasn’t who he claimed to be.”
I was stunned. How could she possibly know this? That’s when she revealed that she had the exact same dream.
To this day, I have no explanation for what happened or how we both ended up experiencing the same dream.
