[Good Entity enters mans dream to help him saved loves ones]

Philadelphia Pennsylvania

I never used to believe that our dreams meant anything. I always thought people who kept “dream
diaries” or who tried to apply hidden meanings to them were a bit on the crazy side. But I’m not sure
how I feel anymore.

About 10 years ago my family was going through a personal crisis. I was about 25 at the time and my
younger brother was utterly possessed by drug addiction. He had been arrested a few times and had
even stolen from my parents and other family members. My mother refused to kick him out of the
house, but she made him attend a 60 day inpatient rehab in the city. I had a friend who worked there,
and she promised to keep an eye on him.

The first few weeks were great, and my brother started gaining weight and would even laugh and joke
around with us when we went to visit on Sundays. There was still a lot of hurt to mend, but that could
wait for the future. We were all feeling hopeful and just wanted my brother to be ok.

Right around the 3rd week my brother had been in rehab, I started having a kind of reoccurring dream.

A man I have never met nor remember seeing, would be walking down the street. He had shoulder
length curly brown hair and grey green eyes behind a pair of thick rim glasses. His mouth was always in a
sort of semi smile, but not a smirk. Almost like he was completely content with wherever he was in the
world.

Even though he was only walking, I could never catch up to him. After a while, he would always turn and
look at me and then that’s it. I would wake up every time he looked at me. Like I said I didn’t really buy
into any of that spiritual crap and just figured he was some guy in a tv show I watched and just can’t
remember.

After about a week of having these dreams, I got a call from my friend down at the rehab. She told me
that in the middle of the night my brother had signed himself out. He wasn’t court ordered and my
parents, against my advice, had left a little cash with him in case he needed toiletries or something.

I had a good idea of where he was going. Kensington North Philadelphia is an incredibly notorious open
air drug market. You can literally buy heroin on the street like it was a hotdog from a street vendor. I
considered leaving him to his fate, but he was my brother, and despite how angry and hurt I was, I love
him. So, I went looking for him.

I had a picture of him, but I didn’t really think it would be of any use. Still, I tried. I walked around for
hours, showing the picture to passerby’s and pretty much waiting to get beat up or robbed at any
moment. I’m 6’1 and I go to the gym, but I was still way out of my element.

I walked for hours and hours. It was getting late and as desperate as I was, I knew that staying after dark
would guarantee trouble. I started heading back towards the bus stop when I thought I recognized
someone standing at the end of the street. The man from my dreams.

He stared at me for a few seconds, with that slight smile on his face, and then turned and walked around
the corner. I sprinted to catch up to him, momentarily forgetting about my brother. When I rounded the
corner, I saw that he was already at the next block and turning again. There was no way, not even if he
ran, that he could have made it that far. I kept running after him, some of the other pedestrians on the
sidewalk yelling curses at me.

We played that cat and mouse game for several blocks, and he turned a few more times. Finally, as I
came speeding around another corner, I saw him standing in front of an alleyway. He turned to look at
me and then walked down it. I trotted over to the head of the alley and peered down.

The alley ended in a dead-end brick wall, and the guy was nowhere to be seen, only a bunch of garbage
and a dumpster. That’s when I noticed a pair of legs sticking out from behind the dumpster. Thinking it
was the guy I rushed over with balled fist. It was my brother.

He was unconscious, a needle sticking out of his arm. I tried to slap him awake but he wasn’t
responding. I pulled out my phone and called 911. Due to the sheer number of drug overdoses in the
area, there were a lot of emergency response teams nearby. They got there in a few minutes, shot my
brother full of Narcan and rushed him to the hospital.

He survived. And not only that, the incident was enough to actually knock some sense into him. He’s still
clean to this day and owns a successful landscaping buisness.

I wouldn’t dream about the man for another 10 years.

I became a dad recently to a little baby boy. The pregnancy was rough on my wife, and we had a few
scares, but in the end were blessed with the newest addition to our family. Sleep, when it came, was
restless and over the last two weeks I had started dreaming about that guy again.

This time he was just standing there, right in front of me but at a weird angle, almost like I was looking
up at him. No matter what I did I couldn’t touch him and would always wake up after a while. I chalked it
up to bad sleep being too preoccupied with my son to give it any real thought.

When my son was about 2 months old, my wife was finally starting to feel like her old self again. We had
just laid the baby down for a nap, and my wife wanted to go visit her sister a few minutes away before
the baby woke up again and was hungry. She deserved a little time for herself, and I wanted to trim
some of the hedges out back which was going to take 20 minutes tops.

I had headphones on connected to the baby monitor as well as an app on my phone that was connected
to video. I could see and hear everything in the room.

I was outside, my back turned against my house. I was almost done, maybe another 10 minutes when I
pulled out my phone to check on my son. There was someone standing next to his crib, staring right into
the baby camera. It was the man, the same man from the day I found my brother.

In full panic I rushed into the house and right to the bedroom. I looked around quickly and couldn’t see
him anywhere. Our house isn’t that big, single-story ranch, and it only took a few seconds to check every
other room. I went back into the bedroom to check on the baby and my gut just dropped to the floor.

Somehow my little boy had wiggled around in his swaddle, and it had come up higher than it should,
covering his mouth and nose. I couldn’t see it from the camera angle. I frantically pulled it down to his
chin and could see that his face had a slightly blueish tint to it.

I pulled him out of the crib and placed him onto the bed while simultaneously calling 911 from my
cellphone. The person on the phone walked me through what to do while the paramedics came, but
even as I followed her steps my sons color started to return to normal and he was breathing.
The paramedics showed up minutes later, and still thought we should take him to the hospital. I went
with the van and called my wife to tell her what happened, but I was feeling better now because my son
wasn’t showing any signs of distress.

We got to the hospital, my wife showing up a few minutes later, and sat right outside the room while
the nurses and a doctor checked him out. The doctor eventually came out and confirmed that he was
just fine, and no permanent damage had been done. She did tell us however, that even a couple of
minutes longer without breathing, and the result could have been devastating.

This happened 5 days ago, and my son is still doing just fine. We got rid of all the swaddles, opting for a
sleep sack instead.

I’ve been doing some research on stuff like this…this man or whatever he is. That’s how I found your
channel. And while I’m still not totally convinced, I am sorta starting to believe that there might be
entities or spirits in the world. And not all of them are bad.

So who…or whatever your are. Thank you.