What is it with me and death at present I ask? Last night, once more, death came by in a singularly aggressive and unmannerly manner. A dream again, yet perchance a portent? (Might even be minded to check my life insurance policy, but then that wouldn't take long as I have none.)
The circs. were slightly different, though the grabbing, thrusting act was the same. A totally invisible force this time; no hand or arm just a sharp presence.
Forewarned being forearmed, when death struck last night I struck back. It grabbed me, so I grabbed it with equal, opposing force. That though not to its liking one bit - nor actually to any useful avail - for it merely hurled me the length of the dream room leaving me startled, winded and more or less running up the white flag of surrender.
That the moment to wake up of course, in something of a muck sweat and wonderfully rationally aware that the fell fiend was there before me still, an inch from my face daring me to open my eyes to confront its invisible self.
So I did. Eyes ablaze, but it was not there. It had fled my conscious counterblast. For this time at least death has not undone me. I do believe though it is getting bolder by the hour.
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