In dream last night
I walk through a dim room on a float and a drift with a gray soul. At the table underneath a hanging work lamp everyone I know is seated in folding chairs. Friends from past and present under the harsh light track my cold body as it crosses through the room, in one door and out the other.
Somewhere in that trail, my soul seems to actually separate from the body as it walks out of the room. It lingers – hovers over to the table and listens.
"Have you noticed something?"
"It's sad."
"Yeah. His inner light is fading."
"Do you think he knows?"
They call that the 'Dead Man Shuffle'.
