Dreams That Carry Messages from the Other Side

Eitan's Story: My dear father passed away about six years ago. During the mourning year, my wife decided to distribute books of Psalms for the elevation of his soul. She collected funds from our extended family. Everyone contributed willingly, as my father was loved by all for his kindness and generosity. My wife contacted a publisher for holy books, and within days, a deliveryman brought us the Psalms, which were quickly distributed to the excited family members.

One aunt handed my wife money "too late." It turned out this was meant to teach me an important lesson about divine timing. Nothing is ever really too late. The aunt gave the money and asked my wife to donate it to charity, trusting her to do so.

The money was respectfully placed inside a Moroccan decorative kettle, where my wife kept our household charity funds. She was waiting for the right moment to donate it in my father’s honor. A few days later, I needed cash for a purchase but had none in my pocket or wallet. I opened the Moroccan kettle, but my wife told me, "Don't touch charity money. Not even for a moment. You should go to the ATM for cash."

I didn't listen because I fully intended to return it. After all, it was for my father, may he rest in peace, and I had always respected him in life. I naively thought the kettle was giving me a loan for a few days. A few days passed. It was night. The house was quiet. Around three-thirty in the morning, my wife saw me tossing and turning, making strange noises in my sleep. It was clear that I was troubled by something happening in the heavenly realm. A nudge in the ribs was enough to wake me. I stared at her, dazed. I quickly went out to the garden for some air. When I returned, I told her to donate the intended charity amount right after the holiday. I said I would add more: "In the heavens, nothing is forgotten. My father came to me in a dream and told me I owe him something."

This is the message I want to share with everyone for strength. What we do in this world impacts and is needed for the elevation of those dear to us in the higher realm.

Why Did My Deceased Friend Visit Me So Often in Dreams?

Doctors gave no hopes for my friend Mirit, a musician. At 30, she had a cardiac arrest. Miraculously, her life was saved, but she was in a coma from which she awoke without remembering much of her past life, except for songs and the conductor's name from our childhood orchestra. Her recovery was long, and after a few months, she suffered another cardiac arrest and passed away. This story is about many dreams from the other world that I, the writer, experienced, shared now for strength, sanctification of Hashem’s name, and in elevation of Mirit bat Eilat’s soul.

Mirit was my childhood friend. We grew up in the same neighborhood, attended the same school, and played in the same orchestra. After growing up, Mirit traveled to the U.S., and when she returned to Israel, we reconnected and formed a band. We were young musicians just starting out. My journey into religious observance started two years later, but back then, I was just one of many musicians dreaming of great success. The atmosphere was unique, and Mirit was talented, but the band's interest faded, and meanwhile, I returned to my faith.

One day, Mirit invited me to her performance, but it was canceled due to her pressure. A few months later, another performance was scheduled, but the cancellation message came on Saturday night. I had a feeling Mirit wasn't the one who sent the cancellation. I wrote to her: "If you need me, I'm here."

From That Moment, I Was a Different Person

The next day arrived. About ten years ago, I supplemented my income as a private tutor, and in the middle of a lesson, I received a phone message: "Mirit is hospitalized in critical condition." It hit me like a ton of bricks. From that moment, I was a different person. I stopped the lesson, rushed to a neighbor to borrow a Psalms book, and hurried to the bus station to take me to Beilinson Hospital.

It turned out she had a cardiac arrest, and the doctors gave her no chance. The waiting room was filled with the whole town. It was a gathering of lives once connected: childhood neighbors, her relatives, people I hadn't seen in ages. It was also one of my first appearances as a religious woman.

I returned home completely confused. I felt responsible for her life and dedicated significant money for her spiritual redemption. I also called everyone I could and asked them to pray for her. I asked another friend from a nearby town to activate her network and stir people there to pray. At a women’s awakening event in our city, a woman approached Mirit’s mother and said, "Are you Mirit’s mom? The whole city is on their feet, praying for your daughter." That’s how it truly felt.

She Listens to Music in a Coma, Fighting to Return

I came to the hospital again to recite on her bed Psalm 150, the musical psalm: "Praise Him with harp and lyre... praise Him with tambourine and dance." I saw her lying there silent. They placed headphones on her to hear music. I tried to cry, but couldn’t, so I went home. A few days later, a mutual friend called after visiting Mirit in the hospital; it seemed Mirit began to awaken and respond, but not like in the movies where one gently opens their eyes and asks: "Where am I?" Our mutual friend cried over the phone: "Her feet moved right and left like a pendulum!"

Again, a blow hit me, this time from the afterlife. Something in my spiritual consciousness understood, without needing explanations, that Mirit was fighting hard in the upper worlds to get a chance to continue and rectify here on earth.

Her rehabilitation was long and exhausting. Mirit came back to life, but without memories. She didn’t know who she was. She was surprised to learn she was married and had a 3-year-old son. I visited her again after she was already on her feet, speaking, and smiling. One thing was strange—she did not recognize me. We were strangers. Another mysterious aspect linked to the opportunity she got here—they kept telling me Mirit looked like a walking ghost. Intuition, call it spiritual.

The period became optimistic. Mirit was released home for continued rehabilitation, and none of us were prepared for her next cardiac arrest, from which she did not return. My soul was torn. I wandered as if in a daze, unable to sleep. "Stop thinking about her all the time, give her peace," my husband said. "What can I do?" I answered. "It’s not in my control."

According to Jewish tradition, in the first year of passing, the soul alternates between this world and the next. This fit well with the content of the dreams repeating in the first year. Mirit came to me many times in dreams. In each dream, I felt tasked with telling her that we were here and she was there. But I didn’t want to break her heart by telling her she was dead. In one dream, I gathered courage. "Really?" she asked innocently. I looked at her wonder-filled face.

I called the late Kabbalist Rabbi Yosef Vaknin, z"l, who advised me to light a candle for her soul and say: "I ask forgiveness, but I can't help you this way. Please don’t come to me in dreams anymore." He also advised me to study Pirkei Avot, which I did. The dreams ceased. Surprisingly, on the first anniversary of her passing, she came to me in a dream again. This time, I truly saw her deceased. I just thought the cycle was complete.

A few months later, I was called to a project: recordings of a song Mirit was working on in her lifetime. She sang the main melody, recording it with several instruments, but more additions were needed for the song. I was asked to accompany Mirit with backup vocals on this project. It was an incredibly high experience—to sing in the studio, listening through the headphones and hearing your deceased friend sing with such vitality. At the end of the recordings, I joked with Tali, my singer friend who came to record too, about hoping Mirit wouldn’t mind us messing up her song. It turned out Mirit actually loved it. How do I know?

Months later, I dreamt early in the morning. For the first time in my life, I heard music at such a high volume in a dream. It felt as if a radio station was broadcasting Mirit's song to the world. The song played with such precision. Even if you are a musical genius, it’s nearly impossible to replicate in a dream the song’s details one-on-one. Everything was there! The drums, in detail, the keyboards, guitar, bass... and all that we recorded and added. How did I hear this song in a dream? The song reached its end, and there was an addition of words and melody I didn’t recognize. Mirit sang something new that fit perfectly with the song. My spiritual intuition sensed Mirit was continuing to work on her song in the upper world. I tried to wake up but couldn’t. This dream was of the kind that clutches you tightly. I needed to take deep, strong breaths multiple times to return my soul to my body. I woke in shock. The first thing I did was grab paper and pen and write the addition Mirit made to this song. I wrote down the notes and the added lyrics.

There was no fear at all. On the contrary, I felt privileged to experience such a special event—one that strengthened my understanding of the connection between worlds and the blessing to dream true dreams.

In the Talmud, in Berakhot, several signs indicate a particular dream is a true one. Here are two of them: a sunrise dream, i.e., an early morning dream and a repetitive dream, meaning one that recurs in a certain manner. In later books, it is also written that a vivid and orderly dream, that is, a tangible dream, is a sign that the dream is real, along with a stirring dream that inspires us with the content and doesn’t leave us indifferent.

May we all merit to strengthen ourselves in fear of Heaven.

Dedicated to the elevation of the souls of Ezri ben Hammama, z"l, and Mirit bat Eilat, z"l. May their memories be blessed.