The sun came up with a rattle of rose and orange but while it moved toward the southeast clouds were building in from the southwest. Against a gray ceiling lower clouds spread out whitish and slate, a bad sign. The day hadn’t had a chance to warm up before the sun became a white blur.
I sat outside on the porch contemplating the sky and the night’s dream, just a very brief message, really, and wishing it could be a little warmer for breakfast, and wondering when I’d have to start taking it inside – how many days of this weather might be left. The thought seemed related to the dream. One sentence.
Message From the Beyond: I thought if I played possum the Reaper might pass me by, but I guess it doesn’t work that way.
I wondered if it was from my dad, or perhaps my mom – I suppose it’s natural to think bulletins from the other side might come from one’s deceased parents. Then I remembered how I’d actually come upon this dream.
Ellie’s alarm had gone off, and had gone through our traditional first snooze, then gone off again, leading to our traditional second snooze, and I didn’t fully understand that the alarm I was hearing was the third. There was no traditional third snooze, except in special cases. I lay, uncharacteristically, on my stomach and with my head flat down, and not moving, hoping to avoid the notice of Time. And Ellie. As I realized this wasn’t going to work, and flipped over, and took the clock out of Ellie’s hand to take downstairs (long story), the message came to me, except it was ‘I thought if I played possum Time might pass me by’. But within five seconds I’d transposed my snooze scenario into a dream message from the great beyond, and concerning Death, not just Time. My writing day had already begun.