And they might have froze before that noose got to them

[sovay]

All night I dreamed about dying. Every time—I was shot once, bleeding out; another time, I had some kind of wasting illness—I woke up instead of never opening my eyes again, but whenever I fell back into the dream, there was a different death to go through. Some of the circumstances, waterspouts, unmoored islands, shell-like crusts of uninhabited buildings in the middle of cities where I've lived, might have made intriguing story material if I hadn't been distracted by the endless iterations of mortality, none of them opera-clean. Today fails auspices.

Comments

[sovay]

This nonsense about not dying in your dreams--I don't know where it comes from.

See reply to cucumberseed; ditto the one about always waking up before you hit the ground. Not so much.

And, you are not, in fact, dead, after all, so--story?

I'll see if I can . . .