At first, I was with someone scrambling up a concrete slope under a low rectangular concrete divider. He was trying to trick his father, who worked with the government. He was moving something around and I was helping him, then realized he was wearing gloves and I was not. I worried about the fingerprints. We scrambled back under the divider and along the edges of the sea where it lapped up against the concrete. His father came walking down the beach towards us.
Then I was with my dad, leaving my house (but it wasn’t my real house–it was on a steep hill, sunny) and he said he’d walk me out to the car. As we walked down the street his breathing seemed to come hard, in deep wheezing gasps. I worried about his heart. A man in dark clothing was walking down the street towards us. I remembered (similar to the situation in The Eye) that if Death touched any part of someone, even brushed against them, he could take their soul. I pulled my dad over towards the other side of the sidewalk, but it was too late; his wrist passed through the other man’s wrist, their forearms crossed like an X. My dad collapsed.
I ran home. I tried to call 911; realized I’d hit the wrong number, then dialed again; my mother picked up the phone. “What are you doing?” I asked her. “Dad’s dead. I need to call 911.”
She said, “I know. That’s why I’m calling. I dropped off some food for you.”
I started to scream, but my voice in the dream never broke that register between speaking and screaming; it kept hovering there hoarse and braying, not quite loud enough to express my despair.
I was in a deep, disturbing sleep, and didn’t hear the alarm clock at all. I woke up sweaty and exhausted despite a slightly manic and happy night last night.
