I dreamed about Annie last night. We were in an old house, not old in a decrepit way necessarily, but old in a quaint way— the kind of house that has the wide dark woodwork, thick plaster walls and large doorways. Annie was lying on the floor. I noticed a long gray bug with wings crawling across the floor. Then I noticed another and another. Then seven and ten. I looked up and saw that one of the small square tiles in the ceiling was partially falling out exposing the empty space above.
All at once a swarm of these bugs poured out of that space the tile provided.
My first instinct was to flee, but then I remembered Annie. So I went back and picked her up and tried to barricade us in a room with a rug stuffed under the door.
Maybe some things last a lifetime.
If you haven’t already gotten a copy or read Dancing in Heaven, you might want to enter to win a free book at Goodreads on St. Patrick’s Day. Tell your friends.
Christine M. Grote 