Some call it intuition, but I call it a curse. It’s a cold wind before a storm, a "knowing" that arrives in dreams before the world caves in. I felt the grief in my lungs days before my grandma died in a scene that defied logic. A month later, I dreamed of my dad’s death, the lake, the ambulance, the vanishing ghost of my grandmother leading me to his body. Two weeks later, I dreamed of his funeral. The next day, he was gone, found in the same bathroom where we lost her. When the only two real people in my life vanished, reality went with them. The world began to feel staged, the people around me like actors in a movie. My children spoke of things they shouldn't know, and I realized the curtain had been pulled back. I saw the ending before the story began, and now, the mask is off for good. This is the burden of dreaming death before it arrives, and the chilling reality of what happens when you can finally see behind the veil.