I am dreaming again.
I stand beneath a sullen sky on a broad, cobble-stoned road, amidst a stream of grey souls who press against me, urging me to follow them. I turn my head to see where they are headed – it is a cold, dark tunnel, black as ink, beckoning. “Come,” they whisper. “Come.” But I don’t want to, because it is not my time. Not yet. I turn to face them, bracing myself, and take my first step forward, struggling against the torrent. In the distance the horizon glows with a pale orange radiance.
