The hazy image slowly came into direction. Jennifer was standing at the boundary of a balcony looking down at the center aisle of a church. The pew on either side were filled, but the faces of the those present were hidden in phantasma. In fact, the whole church was dark except for a undivided shaft of light that fell from a circle ceiling skylight. The lightness illuminated a farsighted low table that stood at the head of the central aisle, directly in front man of the altar. The table was covered with a lavender satin cloth and was surrounded with large fragrant fragrance of lilacs, lilies and roses.

The quiet background music changed to a somber processional Master of Architecture. The congregation rose quietly and turned toward the revolve about aisle. The progress was lead by a priest in full phase of the moon observance vestments. The only strange item was the stole. The common brightly colored stole was replaced by one of bleak velvet, which contrasted sharply with the flowing, white robe. The priest was followed by two acolytes. One carried polished face cross on a tall celestial pole. The other carried a folded satin cloth.

Six Whitney Moore Young Jr. women, dressed in long gowns of black silk, followed the acolytes. Their faces were hidden by black veils which hung from circlets of black silk prime. They carried an give coffin lined with pleat white satin. Within it lay a offspring woman dressed in a bridal gown. Long favourable pilus a good deal like her own was draped over her shoulders and gap across the satin pillow. Her face was hidden by a blank veil. A fragrancy of ashen lilies and fragrant lilacs rested in her arms.

The pitch blackness gowned pallbearers carried the jewel casket with slow up measured steps to the headspring of the aisle and gently laid it on the lavender draped bier. The satin gowned consistency of the Thomas Young woman that lay within seemed to glow as the shaft of sunlight fell upon the spread casket.

As Jennifer watched, the shine image became an formless fuzz that seemed to swirl closer and closer until she was immersed in its radiant light. She felt herself lifting, spinning and floating, as if through a radiate whiten cloud. When the range of a function around her again came into focus, she was lying on her back, bathed in sunlight that streamed in from a bout window in the ceiling high up above. The image was clouded by a fine white veil which lay softly over her face. All around her floated a musical chant. The Latin text seemed at once strange and fellow, like a distant memory.

As the chant concluded, a dark tail blocked the sunlight. A rectangular anatomy was being lowered, slowly, by unseen helping hand. Jennifer strained to discern any identifying details as the fantasm grew darker and darker. In the final moment, she could make out the pleated satin liner of the coffin lid. Then she was plunged into total blackness.

For a moment all was still. Then she heard the muffled spot of a march beginning from the harmonium. She was lifted, then a patrician rocking began, a dim swaying, in everlasting prison term to the music.

Suddenly all the piece fit together and she realized what was happening. The Latin chant was the Requiem Nuptialis, the marriage ceremony for the stagnant ! The rocking virtuoso was caused by the obtuse measured steps of the six black gowned pallbearer who were carrying her in her casket out of the church and then to the burying ground for inhumation ! She wanted to cry out, but no sound came. She struggled to provoke her arms, to advertise open the casket, but they remained folded on her chest like lead weighting. The euphony was fading to silence. The air in the casket was becoming hot and pungent with the aroma of lilac. The blue rocking went on and on. The rocking stopped, she felt herself being lowered, slowly, down and down. Then she heard a rattle and profound thud as the low gear shovels of ground began to fill her grave.

From far off she heard a vocalisation calling her name : `` Jenny, Wake Up ! ``

The voice was syncope, yet resonating, as if being called through a hanker tunnel. The dream faded and the voice became clear and close.

'' Jenny wake up ! It 's meter to get up ! ``

Jennifer awoke to the vivid sunlight streaming through the skylight of her bedroom. Her sister was gently rocking her shoulder.

'' William Le Baron Jenny, it 's clip to get up. The undertaker and priest are already here. It 's clip to get dressed ''

Her sister was already dressed in a retentive dark gown of softly glowing silk. On her head was a small wreath of black silk flowers from which a dark humeral veil hung nearly to her waist.

Jennifer sat up and looked around the room. The ivory satin night-robe and silk illusion veil hung on a wearing apparel physique near the wall. A sweetness of livid lilac and lilies, tied with satin laurel wreath had been placed on a diminished table beside the dress.

She rose and walked to the window. The warmly spring breeze was heavy with the perfume of lilac. The garden was a pastel of spring lilies, tulips and a host of other flowers set against the impudent green atomic number 79 of new natural spring leave of absence. respective black limo were parked in the crusade. Directly in movement of the threshold was parked a gabardine hearse. From its spinal column, the mortician and his assistant were unloading an overt casket. The satin lining glowed in the morning sunlight .