My deceased father appeared in my dream the night before my birthday and warned, ‘Don’t wear the dress your husband gave you.’ I woke up trembling, because my husband had just given me that dress. And when the seamstress brought it back and I checked the lining, I realized my father hadn’t just visited in a dream, he might have prevented something I hadn’t noticed.

“Liv,” he murmured quietly, yet his voice rang so vividly it felt as though he were truly standing before her, “don’t wear the dress your husband gave you. Do you hear me? Don’t put on that dress.”

He repeated the warning three times, never breaking eye contact, and then slowly faded back into the darkness as if he had never been there at all.

Liv woke with a strangled cry that lodged in her throat and refused to escape. She rubbed at her temples, trying to chase away the disturbing vision.

Nonsense. Just a dream, an ordinary nightmare before an important day.

Tomorrow was her 50th birthday. Her daughter Nicole, called Nikki, and her family would be visiting. Friends were coming. A reservation was waiting at the Magnolia Grill. Naturally, she was overwhelmed, and that’s why her mind conjured such foolishness.

But why about the dress?

Liv shivered, squeezing the glass more tightly.

The dress.

Two weeks earlier, Mark had proudly presented her with a large box wrapped in a satin ribbon. Inside was a stunning evening gown, a deep emerald green, her favorite color. The fabric shimmered under the light, and the design complemented her figure while still appearing refined and modest.

“This is for your celebration,” Mark had said with a smile. “I ordered it from the seamstress Nikki recommended, Evelyn Reed, I think her name was. She said she’d take all your measurements into account. I want you to be the most beautiful woman at your 50th.”

Liv had been touched to the point of tears. Mark had never been particularly sentimental, always practical and steady. During their 20 years of marriage, she had grown accustomed to his gifts being considerate, though never extravagant. And now, this level of attention, this kind of care.

Yet something about the way he insisted struck her as odd.

“You absolutely have to wear this dress,” he had said more than once. “I want everyone to see how beautiful my wife is. No other dress is right. Do you understand? This day is special.”

She had joked it off at the time, replying, “Of course, I’ll wear it. How could I not after a gift like this?”

But something in his tone, in the way he looked at her when he spoke about the dress, left her with a faint, uneasy feeling. Still, she brushed it aside at once.

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