My dear friend Edward Kent Craig died at Alva, Stirlingshire, in the autumn of 1923, aged 32.

About six months after his death, I dreamt one night that I was walking along a dark country lane on a black, stormy night.

I came to a 'water-splash' where a rushing stream crossed the road. Rather frightened, I waded as far as the middle, but with the ice-cold water swirling about my knees, I lost my nerve and was nearly swept away.

Then Eddie (he was a great strong man) suddenly appeared, lifted me in his arms and carried me safely across.

I suddenly looked at him in horror: "Eddie," I cried, "but you're dead!"

"No, I'm not," he said, looking at me very straight.

"But you are!" I said.

With a little smile, "You'll grow out of that, Donnie," he said...

...and I awoke.

Postscript: "You'll grow out of that," was a favourite expression of E.K.C.'s.

SOURCE: The Dream World by Rodolphe L. Megroz, pp. 130-1.

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