I dreamed that I died. I'm not really sure how I died, or why, but I knew I had died because this woman told me, "Okay, you're dead now." We had been standing around on someone's hazy suburban yard, waiting and waiting. Once she told me, I felt a vague sense of relief that my turn was over. I looked at my arm, which had a strange mosquito bite on it. There was a gap and twist to the skin which was not the result of a wound, and there seemed to be something hard and white inside, like a seed or a pearl. I tried to squeeze it out, but it stuck fast.

RedFeather, by

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