Three scenes:

My husband and I sat in a 60s-type cafe and I ordered a basket of fried shrimp. They brought me cheese sticks, so I re-ordered. With the shrimp, the waitress brought a plastic bottle of catsup. With a flip of her wrist, catsup flew from the bottle down the front of my white v-neck tee. “I only take lemon with my shrimp,” I said.

When I entered my husband’s office, he said, “The bookstore called and wants to deliver the book you ordered. It seems they have the wrong address. They also need the book title again.” I couldn’t call them back because I couldn’t remember the book I ordered. The only thing that came to mind was John Grisham’s Client. And I’d already read that.

We had chosen beautiful paper to wrap a gift for our neighbor’s grandchild. We crossed the road to present it to them. Standing in their yard, my husband unwrapped the gift and handed it to them.

THEN I WOKE UP! Being warned in a dream of seemingly “biblical proportions”, I decided that I should proceed through the coming day with great care.

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