This is a story my mother told me when I was a kid, which I never forgot. When my mother was a teen (early 1940's), there was a neighborhood boy who had a crush on her. The boy was much younger than she was, and my mother was always very kind to him, spent time with him, and gave him attention (and nothing more). They'd see each other often, on her way home from school, and so on.
But one day, on her way home from school, he wasn't there. She thought nothing of it, until the pattern continued for a while. The boy's mother on one of those occasions told her that he had been bedridden with sickness, which explained his disappearance.
And it was on one of those nights that my mother dreamt that she was holding onto rocks on a cliff, and her feet were dangling. If she were to let go of her grip, she would fall. She looked down, and saw that the bottom was the ocean, but it was a very long drop. She was trying to climb up, but the neighborhood boy had a firm grasp on her foot. He kept saying repeatedly, "Come down with me. Come down with me." My mother was frightened out of her gourd, and was trying to shake him off, but he would keep yanking her foot, saying the same words. My mother said she jolted awake from the dream.
The next day, she was approached by the boy's mother. She told my mother that the boy had passed away in the night, after a struggle with an intense fever. It is a sad story, but human desire is a powerful force; he wanted my mother to take the plunge to the ocean of MInd with him; neither of them was ready. He must've been afraid, and took solace in my mother.