I went to a farm house. It was cold. When I went into the farm house, people were there. I knew these people were familiar to me. There was a woman, man and about three children. All of them were dressed in old-fashion clothes, so I knew they had to be dead. The people were very welcoming, and I knew I belonged with them in some way. The house was heated by fireplace and a quilt that hung on the wall. When I was going to go upstairs to bed, the lady took the quilt off the wall to cover me. Later on, she offered me chicken and dumplings to eat. When she went to get the food, I saw a name engraved on a plaque. I do not remember the name, but I know it was a family name. Then I remember leaving the farm house, but felt like I should have stayed. It has been confusing for me ever since.