In 1865, in a small town in Wisconsin, five-year-old Max Hoffman came down with cholera.  Three days later, the doctor pulled the sheets over the boy’s head and pronounced him dead.  Little Max was laid to rest in the village cemetery.  That night, his mother awoke screaming: she had dreamt that her son was turning over in his grave.  Trembling with fear, she begged her husband to go to the cemetery and immediately raise the coffin.  Mr.  Hoffman did his best to calm his wife, assuring her that while her nightmare was indeed hideous, it was still a dream.  These things happened often.  Calmed down, Mrs.  Hoffman returned to bed.  But the next night Max’s mother had the identical dream, and this time she would not be denied.  Resignedly, Mr.  Hoffman asked his eldest boy and a neighbor to h…