“You have to walk down.”
In the space between sleeping and waking I know why I dream of the dead and I know why I shouldn’t follow Norma.
I sleep again and dream of a dead husband. I talk about him to a member of The Nighthawks – an old bar band that rocked DC 30 years ago. Even asleep I know it is the name and not the band that is significant. Nighthawks.
So many dead. I try to sleep again. It is just after 4:00 am. My dog Arlo seems disturbed too. Did the Nighthawks trouble his sleep too? He rises on his hind legs to look out into the back yard and he whines.
“Hop up, Arlo” I whisper. I don’t want to disturb John. I pat my pillow and Arlo curls up where my head was before the Nighthawks came. I move closer to John. It is nearly 4:30. In just one hour the whirring of my Cuisinart Grind and Brew will signal the beginning of a new day.
I remember an article in which a young Thai woman spoke about the thousands who perished in a tsunami: “Some might go to heaven, some might go to hell. But the desperate ones are still wandering around. They might get lonely. They can’t contact anybody. They don’t know what’s going on.”
Thanks for listening,