I think I was flying through the air when I woke around 4:30 am, or maybe I was on the floor, or maybe it was when my head hit that table in the photo above. I was dreaming. I was with an old friend, Howard, the husband of a close friend. Howard and Flora lived across the street from us and two houses down when we lived in Maryland.
There was a little boy. I don’t know if it was my son, my grandson or another child. Something was wrong with the boy. He was fretting and didn’t want to go to bed. Howard and I finally got him to bed, but I didn’t feel right about it. I soon heard the boy screaming in terror. There was an eerie glow emanating from his room, and the sound of what I somehow knew were mischievous, little creatures. The uneasy sound of their pernicious giggling and furtive scurrying about did not feel right. I knew they were of the male gender, but not men or boys. Something else. I knew intuitively that they had come for the little boy’s soul. I began running toward the door to the child’s room. When I got to the door, I launched myself into the room, screaming for them to get away from the little boy, and that’s when I woke, flying through the air, slamming my head into my bedside table. I felt something wet and thought I had spilled my water, but it was my elbow. It was bleeding.
H jumped out of bed. I was still screaming and disoriented. He got me up and off the floor. I still didn’t know which way was up. I had knocked the table about two or three feet from its original position. It’s a big, old drum table – solid wood and heavy. My head had moved it, my head along with the full weight of my body behind it.
What a night, and no, I’ve never read either of those books on the table. I don’t know where the bottom one came from, and the top one is one that my sister recommended, but she and I had completely different tastes in books. I kept telling myself that I’d read it one day for her, but I never did. So, there it sits. I can’t believe I didn’t knock the lamp over.