The Mysterious Girl and the Death Announcement

This is a real-life dream that I experienced many years ago. That night, I was alone at home, and suddenly, at 3 AM, I woke up, disturbed by the vivid images I had just seen.

I usually describe myself as a dreamy person because I often experience a variety of dreams—some tragic, some comedic, shifting from peace to war, love to lust, as if different emotions visit me one by one in my sleep. Whenever I wake up, I try to recollect and share my dreams with friends before they fade away from my memory. The best way to remember a dream is to replay the entire scene in your mind right after waking up.

And this particular dream started like this…

The Temple Journey

Somewhere, in an ancient temple, I was on a pilgrimage with my mother and other family members. The temple had a classic Indian architectural style, built with black stone. The air was thick with the fragrance of agarbattis (incense sticks), their smoke curling through the corridors, filling the atmosphere with a mystical aura.

In India, it is quite common for Hindu families to visit famous temples in different regions, often staying for a day or two before returning home. That was our plan too—we had completed our temple visit and were resting in a guest room, preparing for our journey back.

I checked the time—it was around 5 AM, and our train was scheduled to leave at 8 AM. With plenty of time left, I decided to take a walk around the temple premises and explore the nearby village before our departure.

The Silent Village

As I stepped out of the temple gates, I walked toward a small junction. To my surprise, all the shops were closed.

"Why are the shops closed so early in the morning?" I wondered.

The entire area felt eerily silent—not a single person in sight, no vehicles passing by, no sounds of morning chatter. It was as if I had stepped into a ghost town.

As I stood there, puzzled, I suddenly noticed a little girl, around 10 years old, walking with a steel pot in her hands. She looked like she was heading to collect milk—a common practice in India where people buy fresh milk in the mornings and evenings for tea.

I called out to her.

“Hey…!”

She stopped and turned around.

She was beautiful, with deep blue eyes, and wore glass bangles that jingled softly as she moved.

I continued, “Why are all the shops closed?”

She stared at me for a moment before answering.

“A well-known man from this village passed away this afternoon. The shops are closed in mourning for his funeral.”

“Oh, I see…” I replied, absorbing the information.

Curious, I asked, “Are you going to buy milk?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

An Invitation to the Funeral

I then asked, “Where is the funeral taking place?”

She pointed just a few meters away and said, “Not far. Just nearby.”

A thought crossed my mind—I had hours before my train journey, and I was already out for a walk.

Almost as if she had read my mind, she asked, “Do you want to see the funeral?”

I hesitated. I had never been particularly comfortable with funerals—I disliked the rituals, the smell of burning incense, and the heavy air of grief. Hindu funeral ceremonies always involve agarbatti smoke, which, for some reason, irritated me.

Still, I replied, “Not really... but since it’s nearby, I might walk along.”

She simply said, “I am going that way. If you want, follow me.”

For some reason, I agreed. “Okay.”

As we walked, I noticed she was moving very quickly, almost as if she was in a hurry. I followed her through the narrow lanes, the temple fading into the background.

Inside the Funeral House

Within a few minutes, we reached a large, traditional Kerala-style house. Inside, a few people were gathered, speaking softly, their voices barely above whispers. The air was thick with an unspoken sorrow.

I whispered to the girl, “Where is the body?”

She replied, “It’s coming from the hospital.”

“Hospital? Why? What happened?” I asked.

She answered calmly, “It was an accident. A bike accident. The body is still in the hospital, but it will arrive soon.”

I felt a strange chill run down my spine.

“How old was he? Was he young?” I asked.

She turned to me and nodded. “Yes… He was young. Like you.”

Her words unsettled me.

She then entered the house, walking with a familiarity as if she belonged there. I hesitated for a moment but decided to follow.

Inside, I saw women in sarees sitting on the floor, crying. Their grief was raw and heavy. I could tell they were close relatives of the deceased.

Something about the atmosphere made me uncomfortable. Why was I here?

I didn't even know the person who had passed away. The presence of death always gave me a negative feeling—a reminder of how fragile life is. I decided it was time to leave.

The Shocking Revelation

I stepped out of the house, walked towards the gate, and took a deep breath.

Before leaving, I turned back, looking for the little girl.

She was gone.

I scanned the area, thinking she must have gone inside to talk to someone. But she was nowhere to be found.

As I stepped out onto the road, something caught my eye.

On the opposite side of the street, a poster was pasted on the wall—a common condolence notice in India, announcing the death of the young man.

I walked closer and looked at the photo on the poster.

And then... my heart stopped.

It was my picture.

What?

I stared at the poster in shock.

The dead person was… me?

Waking Up in Terror

At that moment, I felt a sudden jolt, and my eyes snapped open.

I was back in my room. It was 3 AM.

I sat up, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding. Was it just a dream?

Or had I just seen something… that I wasn’t meant to?

Even today, this dream lingers in my mind. The little girl with blue eyes, the empty village, the funeral house… and my own death announcement.

Was it just a dream, or was it something more?