Living the miracle

My friend told me he was feeling sick on Thursday, and I thought it was no big deal. I assumed he'd be better by Sunday. So, I sent him a text on Friday night, but I didn't hear back from him. Saturday was busy for me, so I didn't think much of it.

But then, on Sunday, after church, he called me with a weak voice. He said he had broken down and was taken to the hospital. I left church right away and rushed to the hospital, which was 40 minutes away by bus.

During the bus ride, I fell asleep and had a dream. In the dream, my friend came to me with a big smile on his face. I asked him how he was feeling, and he said, "Stephen, I'm fine. Nothing's wrong with me." I woke up to the conductor telling me we'd arrived at the hospital.

I got off the bus and went into the hospital, expecting to see my friend lying in bed, sick. But instead, he was sitting up and eating jollof rice. I asked him what happened, and he told me that after we last spoke, he slept and woke up feeling fine. He was just waiting for the doctor to discharge him.

I was convinced that my dream was a sign of his recovery. It was a miracle
God is still in the business of healing and answering prayers.