In this dream, I would wake up in a strange bed, in a strange house, to strange sounds. I always heard alot of people talking as if a very large party were going on somewhere downstairs. There seemed to be more mens voices than womens voices. In any case, it was like a the roar of a water fall, constant and furious. I would always get out of bed and walk down a long hallway to a wide pair of steps. As I started down the steps, about half way down........ complete silence. Not a sound! End of dream.

Years went by and I forgot all about this dream until, in my late forties, one day as I was leafing through a book I had bought called "Twenty Days", I saw a chapter on Willie Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln's son. The book was on the Assassination, and the twenty days that followed Lincoln's death. One chapter included a brief history on his son William Wallace Lincoln, who died while he -Lincoln- was in the White House. It seems that the Lincoln's had planned a lavish party sometime in February. Willy, in the mean time, had been out riding his little horse on a cold winter day frought with sleet and snow, and had caught his death of cold which landed him in bed. At first, no one thought it serious, but as time went on it became apparent he was growing worse and worse. A doctor was summoned. Perhaps feeling there was no way out, the Lincoln's did not cancel the huge party that was planned. Instead, all during the party, Mrs. Lincoln and the President would take turns climbing the stairs to their son's room, making sure he was alright. He died some weeks later, probably of complications, possibly Pneumonia, and some other goodies thrown into the pot for good luck.

William Wallace Lincoln was born December 21, 1855. I was born December 21st, 1944. Willy probably died of a respiratory disease and other complications. I'm a respiratory therapist. Strange isn't it?

Some weeks after reading this book I had -after all those years- another strange dream. In this dream, I saw a train pulling out of a station. I was above it, and as the round roofed short little passenger cars went under me, I instinctivly Knew that Mrs. Lincoln was in the last car. In my mind, I heard her voice say, "What will become of my son?" With that, the energy within that last car rolled out like balled lightning and hit me like a ton of bricks! With that I woke up. This was almost like a conformation of my suspicions. Mrs. Lincoln was famous in story and legend for her attempts to make contact with her dead son. Maybe instead, she made contact with her living son. Who can say for sure? I make no claims, only relate to you, the reader, what happened. Make your own decision, I've made mine..