Good morning, everybody.
It was night. I was in front of my great grandmother's house. I may have been sent to check on my great grandma because she was sick. (My great grandma had actually died a few years ago.)
I walked up the steps to my grandma's house. The screen door was closed, but the front door was at least halfway open. My grandma was just inside, kneeling on the floor in some kind of meditative position.
My grandma was so still, I was almost sure she was dead. I thought I had gotten here too late. But then she stood up. I knew, as I think everybody in my family knew, that my grandma was going to die soon.
My grandma was acting weird and saying weird, drifty things. She walked out of the living room and into her bedroom. She returned with a container of Vaseline and a pair of scissors behind her back. I thought she was going to kill me.
I probably ran out of the house in fear. I got to the edge of my grandma's yard and then stopped running. I started talking about how I remembered all the nice stuff my grandma had done with me when I was a child.
I turned around and addressed my grandma, who stood outside her door. I walked back over to my grandma and spoke with her a little more. We were now leaning against the railing of the steps, as if we, or at least my grandma, were the height of a child.
My grandma, I saw, had dropped a blade like a scalpel on the ground. I knew that my grandma actually had been planning to kill me. But our talk had mellowed her anger.
We walked back inside. My grandma went back into her room. But now a few other members of my family were here, including my mom, and probably also my sister. It was like we were all here for my grandma's funeral, or to be with my grandma as she died.
My mom and I walked into the kitchen. My mom gave me a pile of mail which had been directed to me, though it had apparently come to my mom's house. It was a bunch of large-size envelopes. One of the envelopes may have had a post-it note on it saying "FOR YOU?"
I opened a couple of the envelopes. They came from a couple different apartment complexes. They started out as late rent notices, then they became eviction notices. I walked with these envelopes back into the living room.
Some other family member of mine may have addressed me, causing me to turn around. My family members may have been talking about me or my grandma as if one of us were physically or mentally ill.