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One night, I had a dream where this crow came and told me, “Your Aunt is going to die.”

I was so scared I woke up my parents. They told me it was just a dream, to go back to bed. But the next morning, my Aunt Stacy was dead.

Three weeks later that the crow came back to me in a dream and said, “Your Grampa is going to die.”

I ran right back to my parents. My father said, no, Gramps is fine, but I could see there was trepidation. And true enough, that next morning my Grampa was dead.

For the next couple weeks, I didn’t have another dream. Until one night the crow came back and said, “Your Daddy is going to die.”

I didn’t know what to do. But finally I told my father. And he said not to worry, but I could tell he was rattled. That next day, he wasn’t himself, always looking around, waiting for something to drop on his head. Because the crow didn’t tell how it was going to happen, just those words: your Daddy is going to die.

He went into town early and was gone for a long time. And when he finally came back, he looked terrible, like he was waiting for the axe to fall all day.

He said to my mother, “Good God. I just had the worst day of my life.”

“You think you’ve had a bad day,” she said. “This morning the milkman dropped dead on the porch!”

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