Blessed Pope John Paul II visits me in my dream after his death

It was night. 

I was having a dream. 

I had a visitation in my sleep.

A visitation of a papal figure days after he died. 

Clad in his light, creamy-yellow papal vestment, the fatherly pope visited my little soul in my poor, lowly hut.

Facing each other, we were on a simple, wooden bench of the balcony connected to the house, sitting.

As a father to a son, we were talking: his eyes looking into mine; my eyes looking into his.

We were not "talking" as the physical world does: we were "talking" in the spirit -- soul to soul -- without words -- without action.

 Only by simply looking into the eyes in Love communication.

And I found myself sobbing; I woke up sobbing like a longtime yearning of my soul has been fulfilled.
Was it his way of saying "thank you" for the chaplets of Mercy that I had been graced to say unceasingly on his dying moment until he breathed his last?
Or, was it a gift or a spirit transference that took place between our two souls as between Elijah and Elisha?
If so, then, am I to love as he had been gifted with to love?