Last December, I had a speech class with a teacher named Brother Larry. He was a church man, obviously, and I didn't really know him that well. But I knew he was a good and honest man. One day I was going to go to class and give a speech that I was excited to give. It was on genealogy. However, that night, I had a horrible dream. It was one of those very vague dreams that gave me more of a feeling than an actual story. It was a feeling of death.
I didn't go to class that day. The next day at school I talked to some of my classmates to see what I had missed. I didn't have class that day because it was a Tuesday, Thursday class. The said nothing really, except that Brother Larry told them about not taking life for granted and how to treat a lady, and don't let life pass you by. A really ominous speech, as if he knew his time was going to end soon. That's exactly how they told it to me. So I freaked out. But he didn't die. So I was "A" okay.
Early the next monday morning at about 3:00 a.m., however, Brother Larry dies of a heart attack. I then told my classmates why I didn't go to class that last Thursday, and they started crying more. We all did. It was really depressing, but he knew that he was going, and so did I. Really sad.