Truth is stranger than fiction…



And then there were 4…

The 4 that wear flannel. They present three sets of hands on her throat, while the fourth one watched. They present a shovel, a compass and the #7 floating above it. Where are you, Rox? Show me where they put you. Talk to me… talk to me…

You could say I had an interesting day today. I received some feedback on who keeps re-arranging the large books on my coffee table and while I recognized the name and the relationship to me- the message may not have been for me. Today I had the first pumpkin-spice cappuccino of the season and had a lovely, but brief exchange with my mother and later on in the morning a more compelling one with my father. And while the fruits of what transpired in a meeting earlier today may take a few weeks to re-emerge, I was able to bring a moment of peace to one of my siblings who desperately needed some reassurance from my parents.

It has been a good day so far, filled with numbers, letters and butterflies. I also had a visit with R today and told her about a dream I’d had recently. The 29th had not only brought me some much needed information, but a very odd dream after I had fallen asleep. In the dream I was riding inside an older model type car. By older I mean 1960’-1970’s era. The interior was a soft green or blue pastel leather and the dashboard was filled with chrome knobs and large dials that glowed in the dark. The car itself was a big 4-door sedan with a long boxy front end. I was driving, but sensed there was someone in the passenger seat next to me. I never saw their face, but I know I knew them. The area surrounding us was relatively flat, with only slight variations and the road seemed to stretch out for miles. The immediate sides of the road were overshadowed by huge pines, but not far ahead I could see they opened up for a brief period, before they became closed off again by woods. It was a beautiful night- crystal clear and we had the windows down and the radio softly playing in the background. You could feel the rush of the wind and hear the cricket orchestra outside the windows as they serenaded us into the night. My left hand was dangling outside the driver’s window, catching the air every now and then as we drove. It is a habit I have done since I was a child and do even now when driving my convertible. My right held casually onto the steering wheel- one of those big old ones that has the ribbed grooves notched out for your fingers. I was chatting away and laughing, very comfortably about something with my passenger and then suddenly had the feeling I was being flagged down and pulled over by a cop. But when I looked in the rear view mirror- there was no car behind me. Still feeling I had been asked to pull over, I slowed the car and hit my blinker. Confused, but wishing to comply with who or whatever kept insisting I pull over, I sidled the car off onto the right shoulder of the road and slowed to a stop just 20 feet or so in front of another car which had already been pulled off the road on the same shoulder.

It struck me as odd, but I sensed the passenger to my right felt no alarm in doing so, so I complied. I turned off the car and waited. The person in the other car acknowledged my arrival with a flashlight and got out of the car. It seemed odd to me at the time that a car would have been on the same side of the road, facing the opposite direction but I felt no fear at the time.
The moon was now hidden from view behind the blanket of thick Georgia pines to my right. I tried to look closer to see. The outline of the car echoed that of the one I was in. Large and boxy- it was similar in every way with the exception that the other car was a marked police type vehicle. I thought I recognized the face coming out from behind the steering wheel of the opposite car, though to be honest- I sensed more who it was, than saw who it was.

Realizing it was the Grim Reaper, I thought to myself- “Ah, sh….- not him again! I really don’t want to talk to him right now.”

He began walking towards me with a flashlight. I remembered how the light bobbed and bounced on the asphalt and the pines as he sauntered towards us. My passenger laughed at the language I had used and teased me for it. I looked up and saw the figure almost at the door and so I began reaching for my purse to get out my license– though I somehow knew it would not be necessary. Grim already knew exactly who I was and why I was there. When he got to the driver’s window, he shined the light in my face so I could not see his and he asked if I knew why he had pulled me over. I still could not figure out how his car had gotten around me and in front without me seeing him- but let it go. He asked if I was aware I was driving without my headlights on.

I informed him it was not my car, looked in front of the vehicle and suddenly realized that I had indeed not turned them on. I explained up until that point the moon had been so bright I had apparently not needed them and so never made the connection they were not on. When I apologized, he warned me it was very dangerous to drive blind- that I could get hurt real bad that way. He said he’d let me off with a warning this time. I apologized again and when he went back to his car, I turned the headlights on and when I did- he and his car had vanished. There was no one there on the road but me- alone in the car. My passenger, who ever it had been had disappeared as well. I sat for a moment with the car in idle. Silence filled the air and then suddenly the crickets began to chirp again and I knew that whoever had been with me was long gone. The wind began to rustle between the trees and alone in the shadows I began to sense my vulnerability and so turned the radio back on– hit the left-hand turn signal to pull back out onto the road. I looked in the side view mirror- nothing. I pulled forward out of the grass and as I did, the moon rose over the pines and when I saw the bridge ahead awoke.

Charley was murdered on such a road… at such a place…at such hour of the night… before a bridge… and before it rained.

The Grim Reaper was there too… on such a road… at such an hour of the night… before a bridge… and before it rained.

Truth is stranger than fiction.

One Response to “Truth is stranger than fiction…”

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