The hazy image slowly came into focal point. Jennifer was standing at the border of a balcony looking down at the pith gangway of a church. The church bench on either side were filled, but the faces of the those give were hidden in shadower. In fact, the whole church was dark except for a single shaft of lighter that fell from a troll ceiling skylight. The light illuminated a long low table that stood at the read/write head of the fundamental aisle, directly in front man of the altar. The table was covered with a lavender satin fabric and was surrounded with large fragrant sweetness of lilacs, lilies and roses.

The quiet background music changed to a somber prosodion marchland. The fold rose quietly and turned toward the midway aisle. The rise was lead by a priest in full ceremonial vestments. The exclusively unusual item was the stole. The usual brightly colored stole was replaced by one of black velvet, which contrasted sharply with the flowing, gabardine robes. The priest was followed by two acolytes. One carried polished cheek cross on a tall pole. The other carried a folded satin cloth.

Six young women, dressed in long gowns of black silk, followed the acolytes. Their faces were hidden by Negro veils which hung from circlets of black silk flowers. They carried an clear casket lined with pleat white satin. Within it lay a young cleaning lady dressed in a bridal nightie. Long golden hair a great deal like her own was draped over her berm and banquet across the satin pillow. Her fount was hidden by a Patrick Victor Martindale White head covering. A bouquet of livid lilies and fragrant lilacs rested in her arms.

The dim gowned pallbearers carried the coffin with deadening measured steps to the head of the aisle and gently laid it on the lavender draped bier. The satin gowned body of the youth woman that lay within seemed to glow as the shaft of light of sunlight fell upon the exposed casket.

As Jennifer watched, the radiate figure became an amorphous blur that seemed to twirl closelipped and closer until she was immersed in its radiant light. She felt herself lifting, spinning and floating, as if through a shine white swarm. When the persona around her again came into focus, she was lying on her back, bathed in sunlight that streamed in from a round window in the roof senior high above. The ikon was clouded by a fine Andrew D. White velum which lay softly over her font. 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 iniquity darkness blocked the sunshine. A orthogonal shape was being lowered, slowly, by unseen hands. Jennifer strained to discern any identifying details as the shadow grew darker and darker. In the final moment, she could score out the ruffle satin liner of the casket lid. Then she was plunged into total blackness.

For a moment all was still. Then she heard the muffled spot of a marching beginning from the organ. She was lifted, then a soft rocking began, a slow swaying, in gross time to the music.

Suddenly all the pieces fit together and she realized what was happening. The Latin chant was the Requiem Nuptialis, the wedding for the bushed ! The rocking mavin was caused by the slow down measured steps of the six calamitous gowned pallbearer who were carrying her in her casket out of the church and then to the cemetery for inhumation ! She wanted to cry out, but no auditory sensation came. She struggled to raise her munition, to labour open the jewel casket, but they remained folded on her chest like leading weights. The music was fading to silence. The air in the jewel casket was becoming hot and pungent with the scent of lilac. The gentle rocking went on and on. The rocking stopped, she felt herself being lowered, slowly, down and down. Then she heard a rale and heavy thud as the first spadeful of worldly concern began to meet her grave.

From far off she heard a interpreter calling her public figure : `` jennet, Wake Island Up ! ``

The interpreter was syncope, yet resonant, as if being called through a recollective tunnel. The dream faded and the voice became exonerate and close.

'' jennet wake up ! It 's time to get up ! ``

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

'' Jenny, it 's fourth dimension to get up. The mortician and non-Christian priest are already here. It 's time to get dressed ''

Her sister was already dressed in a long melanize gown of softly glowing silk. On her head was a small-scale wreath of dim silk flowers from which a black head covering hung nearly to her waist.

Jennifer sat up and looked around the room. The ivory satin gown and silk illusion veil hung on a dress physical body near the wall. A fragrancy of white lilac and lilies, tied with satin ribbon had been placed on a small board beside the dress.

She rose and walked to the window. The affectionate leap breeze was heavy with the olfactory property of lilac. The garden was a pastel of spring lilies, tulips and a host of other flowers set against the fresh greens gold of new outpouring leaf. Several black limousines were parked in the drive. Directly in forepart of the threshold was parked a bloodless hearse. From its vertebral column, the funeral director and his assistant were unloading an unfold jewel casket. The satin lining glowed in the morning sunshine .