I always thought “precognitive dreams” were nonsense – until I experienced one myself last year.
In March of last year, I had a dream. In it, I was sitting on a long‑distance bus, and outside the window were endless terraced fields, covered in bright yellow canola flowers. The bus turned at a fork in the road, and by the roadside stood a huge old locust tree, hung with red cloth strips – the kind people tie for good luck. Behind the tree was a flagstone path leading to a small village. At the village entrance stood a blue stone tablet with three characters carved on it, but I couldn’t make them out.
The dream was brief, and I forgot about it as soon as I woke up.
Three months later, in June, my company sent me to a county in Guizhou for a project. I took a bus from the county seat to the township. About an hour into the ride, I dozed off against the window. When I groggily opened my eyes – outside were terraced fields, bright yellow canola flowers in full bloom.
I sat bolt upright.
The bus turned at a fork – and there by the roadside was a huge old locust tree, covered in red cloth strips fluttering in the wind. Behind it, a flagstone path led to a small village, and at its entrance stood a blue stone tablet.
I asked the driver to stop and let me off. He looked confused – there was nothing around, why would I get off here? I didn’t explain, paid my fare, and got out.
I walked to that locust tree and looked up – the red cloth strips were densely packed, some faded and white with age. I followed the flagstone path into the village. On the blue stone tablet at the entrance were carved three characters – “Gui Lai Cun” (Return Village) .
I walked around and asked an elderly man sitting in the sun at his door about the village’s name. He squinted at me for a while and said, “That name’s been around for hundreds of years. Rumor has it that a stranger once dreamt of this place, found his way here, and stayed – he called it ‘Return.’”
My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t say more, thanked him, and left.
Afterward, I replayed the dream over and over – the bus, the view outside, the turn, the tree, the red cloth, the stone path, the tablet… every detail matched what I saw three months later.
If it’s coincidence, it’s an incredible one. I’d never been to that county in Guizhou, and I’d never heard of that village before.
Now I’m starting to believe that some dreams might not be just dreams.