Do ghosts come to me in a dream?

I was on a walk and came upon a fallen motorcyclist. I helped him up. He was disoriented. I said let’s move your bike out of the road. He asked am I dead? I said you don’t appear to be. There was a lot of mist and we were under a streetlight so the light was diffused and really bright for like the distance of a block. I got turned around and didn’t know which way we were walking and didn’t see a street sign. He said help me retrace my steps for the keys. We went back toward the light and again as we approached the streetlamp we saw a fallen motorcyclist in the road next to the first bike. He was dazed. He left his bike where it fell. They did not appear to notice each other. He couldn’t find his phone to call her, she’s pregnant. My phone was gone. As the mist burned off I saw another fallen cyclist, who got up and walked over with a limp. 

Then I realized (1) I was dreaming and (2) they likely were dead since they were coming one after another from similar cause/location of death. But I know how that works. Often when you begin talking to one, you’re sending out a signal to anyone on that channel that a line is open so they come one after another, kind of like standing in line waiting their turn to use the phone. I have no doubt these are real people and may be the topic of upcoming reading sessions.  Of course, when I say real people, do I mean their ghosts came to me in a dream? Folks call it different things.

I know that upon death the soul continues away from the body and onto its next assignment. The vestiges that remain, which we identify as our passed loved ones, can be thought of as an astral data bank, which knows everything they knew while they were alive. That’s why “they” can tell you were the keys are. Our thoughts and memories and prayers go out and connect and enrich the soul they are attached to, lifetime throughout lifetime. And in some of these lifetimes we recognize each other. Then again it might have been the sardines.

UPDATE:  This post is from a coupla years ago.  A few months afterward, I had a reading with someone who’d been scheduled several months before. She was local and was looking for info about her deceased son. I immediately recognized him as the second fallen motorcyclist from the above dream, the one who couldn’t find his phone and kept thinking “she’s pregnant.”  She said his good friend had died in a similar accident at the same corner months before he did. I eventually ended up speaking to the mothers of both motorcyclists and also of the woman who was pregnant.  She wanted to know if he had seen his child? He did. Each son had a personal message for his mother.