So in fact, my brother was born quite exactly one year before I was born and died when he was one month old due to a heart problem.
My father completely weird about these things, decided not to talk about his death. So I always assumed that he was buried. Fast forward to my twenties, I’ve had a boyfriend, let’s just call him psycho we were laying in bed a Sunday around midnight and he was telling me stories from his life.
Like the time he did a courage test with his friend when he was young. It consisted in walking into the nearby cemetery and peeing on a grave. The first to run away would lose. So they peed on a grave,
Psycho on a smaller grave which wasn’t like the normal ones, these little graves were aligned the horizontal way, the normal ones the vertical way. This night he dreamt of a little boy coming out of the grave and being angry with him because he made a mess out of “his home” Suddenly, I tell him to put his shoes on and get his jacket.
He wanted to know what was going on. I couldn’t explain it, I just knew I had to go with him. He wanted to drive his car, I said no and took the keys. Without ever having been in that cemetery, i drove there, i knew instinctively where to drive..we arrived to the main, big entry of that cemetery, and I tell him: we have to walk that way and then turn right.. pointing at some candle lights in the back of the cemetery. He was so mindblown, but told me: if you are searching the grave where I’ve peed on, I’m quite sure it was back there but on the left side. We searched and searched, in the middle of the night, more than one hour, but nothing familiar to me.
We went back home but I couldn’t sleep. Next day I’ve asked my father where my brother was burried and he answered me..it was exactly that cemetery and after I asked for the grave number I’ve found out, that psycho peed on my brother’s grave… In fact it was going on the right side, exactly where I felt I should have searched.