the locomotive, for see! it comes from the churchyard directly
toward the house: an immense procession! The eyes of fire are his
grandfather's, and the train behind are all the dead. It advances
continually toward the house, roaring, crackling, flashing. The
windows burn in the reflection of dead men's eyes ... he made a
mighty effort to collect himself, "For it was a dream, of course,
only a dream; but let me waken! ... See: now I am awake; come,
ghosts!"

And behold: they really come from the churchyard, overthrowing
road, rails, locomotive and train with such violence that they
sink in the ground; and then all is still there, covered with sod
and crosses as before. But like giants the spirits advanced, and
the hymn, "Let the dead have rest!" goes before them. He knows it:
for daily in all these years it has sounded through his soul, and
now it becomes his own requiem; for this was death and its
visions. The perspiration started out over his whole body, for
nearer and nearer,--and see there, on the window-pane there, there
they are now; and he heard his name. Overpowered with dread he
struggled to shout, for he was strangling; a dead, cold hand
already clenched his throat, when he regained his voice in a
shrieking "Help me!" and awoke. At that moment the window was
burst in with such force that the pieces flew on to his bed. He
sprang up; a man stood in the opening, around him smoke and
tongues of fire.

"The house is burning, Lars, we'll help you out!"

It was Canute Aakre.