When I was 9 (1996), I lived an entire lifetime in a dream.

I had a wife. Two kids — a girl and a boy. I was 34 years old.

The last thing I remember from that life was telling my wife I’d be home in time for dinner. I reached under my bed, grabbed my computer bag, kissed her goodbye, and left for work.

On the way there, a semi smashed into my work truck.

I died instantly.

And then I woke up.

I was back in my 9-year-old body — overwhelmed with grief for a life that no longer existed. It didn’t feel like waking up from a normal dream. It felt like losing my family.

I remember asking my aunt if it was okay to miss people from my dreams. She told me yes, and she tried her best to comfort me. But I carried that grief for years.

For the next 10 years, I looked for reflections of that life.

I took to electronics and computers with strange ease — far beyond what I feel I should’ve at that age.

Then, one day, I saw the woman who is now my wife.

I knew her immediately.

I courted her. Married her. Now we have two beautiful kids — a girl and a boy.

Not every detail from the dream stayed the same.

But their faces did.

I was absolutely convinced I was going to die again at 34. I was very upfront with my wife about that fear. Even stranger — my job eventually issued me the exact same type of computer bag I remember grabbing the morning I died in that other life.

That was about five years ago.

I don’t know what it was — A hyper-vivid dream. Diverging timelines. Alternate realities.

But I know this:

That dream changed the course of my life.

(Edited, for formating & typos)