That night, little Jomar suddenly dreamed that his mother was emerging from the grave in the barangay cemetery, her eyes brimming with tears, as if she wanted to say something. When he woke up, he insisted that his father dig up his mother’s grave, even though the entire family tried to stop him. And then, when the coffin lid opened, everyone was speechless…

A small barangay in Central Luzon used to be a peaceful place. After Jomar’s mother died of a serious illness, the father-son home became empty and sad. His father, Mang Ramon, was a man of few words, and after his wife’s death, he became even more silent. He worked quietly in the fields and, upon returning home, took care of his children without mentioning the past.

Jomar was only 12 years old, an age when he still longed for his mother’s arms, so the loss was too much for him. During the day, he tried to behave normally, but at night he would toss and turn, remembering the voice and sweet smile of his mother, Aling Lorna.

One night, at the end of the month, he dreamed of his mother standing beside the grave in the barangay cemetery. Her face was pale, her eyes filled with tears, her hand raised as if pleading for help. She pointed to her chest and shook her head slightly in denial. Jomar woke with a start, his heart pounding and drenched in sweat. That dream tormented him for several days.

At first, he thought it was just because he missed his mother so much. But then, strange things began to happen: for many nights in a row, he dreamed of the same scene. His mother was still there, her eyes growing increasingly desperate, her lips moving but not making a sound. He felt as if he were trapped in a terrifying silence.

One afternoon, Jomar dared to say to his father:

—Dad… I want to open Mom’s grave. I’m scared… I feel like Mom isn’t at peace.

Mang Ramón was shocked, his face darkened. He shouted:

—Don’t talk nonsense! The dead should be left in peace.

But the more she detained him, the more uneasy Jomar became. He began to refuse to eat or drink, cried constantly, and insisted:

—If you don’t let me dig up Mom’s grave, I’ll run away from home!

Mang Ramón, moved by his son, filled with fear and confusion, thought: “Could he miss his mother so much that he’s come up with such a crazy idea? But… what if there’s some truth to that dream?”

Finally, after many sleepless nights, Mang Ramón decided to dig up his wife’s grave, at least so his son would stop being tormented. A vague fear began to grow in his heart, as if there were a truth hidden beneath that layer of earth.

That morning, the entire barangay was in an uproar upon learning that Mang Ramon had requested permission from the barangay council and the cemetery administration to open his wife’s grave. Some people expressed sympathy; others murmured:

“That kid must have had a strange dream…” a neighbor whispered.

“That’s immoral, they don’t let the dead rest…” said another, clicking his tongue.

Mang Ramón paid no attention to any of this. He just silently prepared the offerings, lit incense, and asked his wife’s permission in front of the grave. Little Jomar was at his side, his eyes red, clutching his father’s shirt tightly.

The cemetery workers began digging layer by layer of earth. The sound of shovels and hoes echoed loudly, making the atmosphere even more tense. Everyone present waited anxiously.

When the last layer of earth was removed, the wooden coffin appeared. Mang Ramón trembled as he lit another incense, then signaled for the lid to be opened.

A pungent odor immediately rose up, forcing everyone to cover their noses. But what left everyone speechless wasn’t the smell… but what was inside:

The body of Aling Lorna—Mang Ramon’s wife—had not decomposed as expected. Her face was still intact, her eyes open, and her lips slightly pursed, as if she had endured terrible suffering.

A shrill cry broke out among those present:

—My God, it’s… it’s intact!

Mang Ramón fell to his knees, his heart pounding. Jomar burst into tears.

—I told you! Mom wasn’t at peace!

The atmosphere was filled with terror. People began to murmur: Had Aling Lorna died unjustly? Had she been buried alive?

An old man with a white beard and hair trembled as he said:

—Many years ago I heard of a case of “apparent death,” when the heart stops beating and the person is thought to be dead, but after a few hours… they come back to life. What if Aling Lorna…?

That comment made everyone shudder. If it was true, it meant Aling Lorna had woken up inside a dark coffin, buried alive!

After this shocking event, the local government immediately intervened. A forensic doctor was summoned from the provincial capital to perform an autopsy. The result shocked everyone: Aling Lorna had not died of heart disease as originally thought, but of asphyxiation in the coffin .

The doctor explained: this was an extremely rare case. The patient entered a state of clinical death—her heart and breathing stopped—but she was not completely dead. Due to her limited medical condition, both the family and the barangay health center staff made a misdiagnosis…

The whole town was filled with whispers, some with compassion, others with fear. Everyone shuddered at the thought of Aling Lorna waking up in the darkness, screaming desperately so that no one could hear her.

Mang Ramón was plunged into inconsolable grief. He collapsed in front of his wife’s portrait, sobbing:

—Lorna, I’m a sinner! If I had waited a little longer that day, if I hadn’t rushed… you wouldn’t have suffered like this…

Jomar hugged his mother’s portrait, his gaze lost in thought. From then on, the memory of that dream and that scene would accompany him for the rest of his life.

After the second funeral, the family decided to cremate Aling Lorna so she could truly rest in peace . At the city crematorium, the flames rose as everyone mourned. It was the only way to put an end to the tragedy.

The story became a painful lesson for the entire barangay. People began to be more cautious when declaring someone dead, especially in rural areas where adequate medical equipment was lacking.

As for Mang Ramón, he became even more reserved, but he devoted all his love to his son. He always told Jomar:

—You have to live well. That’s the only way your mother can rest easy.

And Jomar, despite his youth, understood: there are pains that never disappear, but they teach us to value life and treasure every moment with our loved ones.