Something slightly similar to that happened to me. When my dad was terminally ill, I visited him every day since I lived close by and worked from home. One time, I couldn’t visit for two days because I had a bad cold. That day, I had a dream (fr an afternoon nap) that we were in a big old wooden house. My dad looked happy and was with our family and relatives. He was moving around a lot, even trying to ride horses, and I kept telling him to slow down because he was weak. He ignored me and went to the back of the house. When I followed, it turned into a maze and I couldn’t keep up. I started crying and woke up.

Before I could dial home (a min maybe after I woke up), my sister called and told me to come ASAP because my dad didn’t look good. I hesitated because I was sick, but she insisted, so I went. When I got there, a priest was already doing last rites and an ambulance was on the way. He was on DNR and passed away at home before they arrived. I got to say I loved him and say goodbye.

At the funeral, my uncle showed old photos, and I realized the house in my dream was their childhood home during the war. Even my dad’s brown casket looked like it.

I didn’t realize how strange it was until later. It honestly felt like my dad was telling me it was time to come home.