Something About Dying, I Think

He woke up, sweating, trembling, from a bad dream that he couldn’t quite remember now, in the three-quarter darkness of the bedroom, the orange glow of the nearby street light coming from behind the nearly leafless branches swaying in the wind and in through the half-open slit of the curtain.

 

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2 thoughts on “Something About Dying, I Think

  1. Dear Craig,

    You’ve captured the elusive moments of a sleeper waking, trying to find the message in the swiftly fleeing memories of a dream. Very well written.

    Aloha,

    Doug

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