From: dicksilk@gmail.com   
      
   While this journal entry is for a night *before* last night, it was (I'm   
   fairly certain) within the last week.  It's just one of those bits that "got   
   away" from my immediate recollection, but *just a few moments ago* came back   
   to me *while in full waking    
   consciousness*— like, "Oh yeah, how could I have forgotten that one?"   
      
   At any rate, the dreamer is holding what looks like a sealed, gray urn (for   
   cremains, perhaps less than 1' in height, about 4"–4½" in diameter (width))   
   with silvery relief (decorative lines) and although it has a top with a sense   
   of ashes about it,    
   there's no *major* effort to look inside.  I have this vague memory of the   
   dreamer testing the lid to be sure it's secure.   
      
   So during this past week, I seem to recall having mentioned my elderly   
   mother's health, and that the other day she encountered a new condition   
   (symptom) that drained her *oomph* a bit more than usual, and that condition   
   continued into yesterday (and may    
   be either resolved or continuing today— it's just that I'm writing this up   
   (typing at the moment, just prior to 9 AM CDT) *prior* to her usual wake-up   
   time of anywhere between 10 AM and 11:30-ish AM, so whether she's still   
   dealing with the condition (   
   or if it's healed / resolved) I have yet to find out.   
      
   The thing I'd like to note, is that when she first reported the condition's   
   symptoms to me, she remarked *very* clearly, "This is just the beginning of   
   the end," noting that she's 93, and has been generally acknowledging the   
   inevitable passing of time.   
      
   The reason I'm mentioning this quote is because, in general, her voice has   
   been weaker than her full-strength voice, often sounding (when she talks on   
   the phone) as if she's talking in a female falsetto.  But when she said "This   
   is just the beginning of    
   the end," she was *very* clear, no fuzziness about her voice whatsoever.   
      
   So regardless of whether she makes it another year, month, week, or day, I'll   
   always have that "moment of focus" to remember, somewhat like an anchor-point   
   in time.   
      
   At any rate, I have a general morning routine, from pre-dawn until post-dawn,   
   whereby I get up around 5-ish to let the dog out (and relieve myself as well)   
   then when the dog returns (usually with 5–10 minutes) I lock the house back   
   up and either go    
   back to bed or lie upon the couch (depends) and use that time for "praying" /   
   planning the rest of my day, getting general ideas / plans in mind.   
      
   It's during this time that I often "fall asleep," often encountering some   
   major "dream before waking" type event, but this morning, remained largely in   
   meditative mode, when I saw something like a type of image playing out upon   
   the backdrop of my closed    
   eyelids (a mental image, I suppose):  The backdrop was pinkish-orangish, much   
   like sunlight shining through the eyelids; there was a type of wafting smoke   
   (darkish image) heading from right to left, and there was a disconnection   
   between the trail of    
   smoke / mist just about center-point of the image, thus the waft to the left   
   of the center-point was clearly separated from the waft on the right, and the   
   waft on the left ended up within a white square.  Mind you, not a 3-D cube,   
   but a 2-D square, of    
   about ¼"–¹/₃" square.   
      
   End of image.   
      
   Sorry to journal such morbid-like content, but hey, I'm just writing down what   
   I've seen.   
      
   Meanwhile, I just heard Mom stretching so I know she's at least made it to the   
   sunrise of today 👠  
    ✞ ✔ (One day at a time, eh?  I'm hoping she makes it until Gina and I are   
   married and have a son, but that's a bit of an iffy at this juncture.)   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)