I saw the Angel of Death in my sleep during Ramadan and it truly transformed me

Bismillah. Let me start by saying, may Allah witness that every single word of this is true. I don't usually share personal stories, but this has been weighing on my heart for years, and I feel it's important to tell. So, a bit of background. I was about 14 or 15. My family had just moved from Malaysia, where we'd lived for 14 years-almost my whole life-because during COVID, the government asked foreigners to leave. We had to start over in Lahore, just me, my mom, and my siblings, while my dad stayed behind to wrap things up. He joined us about a year later. When Ramadan came, my dad finally arrived-but he had COVID. And not a mild case. It was the severe kind, the scary one that was taking so many lives. He lost his sense of taste, could barely walk or talk, and was completely exhausted. We had to isolate him in a separate room on our cousin's advice (who is a doctor). We wore gloves and masks just to enter. We even got oxygen tanks from the neighbors. My mom was constantly crying, and we were all terrified, honestly fearing we might lose him. Because of all this stress, my mom told us not to fast. She was too overwhelmed to prepare suhoor and iftar, and even though we were stubborn teenagers, we could see she was barely holding it together. So we didn't fast for about a week. I'll be honest, at that time, I didn't think much of it. I wasn't happy about skipping, but I didn't fully understand the seriousness of missing fasts without a valid reason. I didn't realize what it meant until something happened. The dream. I was in my grave. But it wasn't dark or closed like you'd picture-it was open, almost like a construction site, with pipes around. There was enough room to stand. I looked behind me. Wallahi, I can't even describe it properly. There was a figure standing there. No one told me who it was, but my soul just knew. It was the Angel of Death. Even now, thinking about its appearance, I feel a tightness in my chest. It was impossibly tall, its head slightly bent because of its height. Its hair flowed down to its feet. Its face was long and its skin was extremely pale. It wore a loose black thobe. I tried to scream, but nothing came out-my voice just stopped. Then it started screaming, and it called out my name. I can't describe that sound, and I don't want to. I wouldn't wish that experience on anyone. I woke up terrified and couldn't sleep properly for a while. I didn't tell anyone about this dream. But I fasted every single day for the rest of Ramadan. I prayed Taraweeh, gave Zakat, did everything. And slowly, my dad started getting better. It was still a long recovery, but the worst was passing. Then, in the last few days, another dream. This one had a completely different feeling-if the first was darkness, this was pure light. I saw my maternal grandmother. She was sitting next to a woman, and there was a long line of people waiting to receive a Qur'an from her. My grandmother was right beside her. Again, no one told me her name, but I just knew. It was Khadijah bint Khuwaylid, radiyallahu anha-the first Muslim, the wife of the Prophet ﷺ. She was beautiful, but in a noble and strong way, with a calm presence around her. Just weeks before, I had been screamed at by the Angel of Death in my grave. And now, I was seeing my grandmother sit beside one of the greatest women who ever lived. The contrast between those two dreams broke something open in me. I never shared the first dream, but I told my mom I saw her mother with Khadijah. She lit up and immediately called her siblings. I think it gave her so much peace during the most terrifying time of our lives. I'm sharing this because sometimes we treat our worship like it's optional, like skipping it doesn't affect anything. Those two dreams showed me it affects everything. May Allah protect us, keep our loved ones safe, and grant us all a good ending. Ameen.