's reminds me of my own great-grandmother's story...
It was (iirc) 1944 and her son (my mom's uncle Bud, a notorious bar fighter and all around tough-guy) was in the Navy. One night she awoke in the wee hours to find her son, who was supposedly at sea, crying at her bedside. Alarmed at this, she got up and comforted him as best she could, but couldn't get a word out of him other than "mama". Eventually she drifted off to sleep again.
No news for months, and though she feared the worst she didn't let on to the rest of her family. When he finally came home on leave he said that around the time in question he had just killed his first enemy combatant, and that before expiring the man had been yelling something that sounded like "Mama!"
Flash forward to '62. Same uncle is in the hospital losing his battle with Lou Gehrig's. My great-grandma wakes up in the middle of the night to find him once again at her bedside, this time smiling down at her. She sat up and he told her everything was just fine, go back to sleep - which she somehow did. It was after 8am when the call came from the hospital that he had passed in the night.