I Hear Trumpets

Pre awake:

My friends and I are in a tiny car. We are careening down a steep hill after just driving through a red light and my Manolo Blahnik heels (Hey, it’s a dream, okay!?) keep slipping of the brakes. Up ahead, an intersection. A kitten sits on the back of my seat near my head. After halting in the middle of the intersection, an angry dog rolls down my window from the outside. (Sure. Why not.) A crazy person sitting behind me (I won’t mention any names. But you’d know them if I did.) lunges forward and pushes her arm into the teeth of the rabid dog. (Makes total sense.) I hear myself whimpering from the pain that racks my body. (No. The dog did not get me. I just hurt.)

I also hear trumpets. (?)

 

Post awake:

The neighbours behind us are screaming at each other. (Wait. Actually, I think it’s just raining.) I am whimpering in pain. (Sympathy from my sporadically breathing husband? Nope.) I now hear whimpering from my sporadically breathing husband. (Actually, it is more like a choking; a sputtering; an air compressor dying a slow death.) A heater is slammed up against me scorching my skin. (AKA my sporadically breathing husband.)

I hear trumpets.