Is this a Ghost story?

I recently put out the question on my Facebook page about whether ghosts exist. I got a large number of comments that ran the gambit of opinions. People believe. People don't believe.
Whether you believe it or not, there are always weird things that happen that are sure hard to explain. I mentioned that I've had a few encounters that I thought were ghosts  and people wanted details. The stories are kind of long and disconnected, so I said that I would put them on my blog. Two of my experiences were more of the traditional "There is a ghost in this room" kind of things. 
But one is more personal and came as a dream.  There is no way to prove that it was nothing other than a dream, but it sure felt like more.
 I wrote this last year:

The last time I saw my father was in a dream. It was a half hour before my mother passed away in a bedroom down the hall from where I was sleeping. I say that I “saw” him, because it was one of those dreams that you experience like reality. Maybe, if I was writing for the King James Bible, I would have called my meeting with my father a “vision.” My more psychic friends would call it a “visitation,” since my father had been gone from this earth for a about six years.

Let me fill you in on the situation I was in. My mother was losing her battle with lymphoma. She made her decision to stop chemotherapy and retired to my sister's home, basically to wait it out.  I visited as many days as possible  for almost a year supposedly to help, but mostly feeling useless. Driving an hour each way, I'd dodge into the kitchen through the side door between my work deadlines, my kids' homework sessions and chores. My sister really did everything. I just listened and held her hand and my mothers hand for a while, then ran back home to pick up a kid from soccer, make dinner and try again tomorrow.

But his one afternoon, I decided to stay the night. We knew we were near the end and Mom was unable to get out of the bed.

I tossed and turned all night and then at about 5:30am, I had a dream . . . or I want to say it was a dream, but I think it was really much more. Dad was sitting next to me in my Aunt's living room, telling me how everything was going to be all right. He used his standard phrase, “Don't worry about it.”

I asked him, “Are you here to take mom?” He nodded his head and patted my shoulder. I could still feel the pressure of his hand when I woke up with a start. The dog was barking.

I bolted from the bed, ran down the hall and found my mom, gone.