The misty image slowly came into focussing. Jennifer was standing at the edge of a balcony looking down at the center gangway of a church. The pew on either incline were filled, but the faces of the those present were hidden in phantom. In fact, the whole church was drab except for a bingle rotating shaft of light that fell from a daily round ceiling skylight. The luminousness illuminated a prospicient low table that stood at the heading of the central gangway, directly in front end of the Lord's table. The table was covered with a lavender satin cloth and was surrounded with great fragrant fragrancy of lilacs, lilies and roses.

The quiet desktop music changed to a somber prosodion march. The faithful rose quietly and turned toward the marrow gangway. The procession was lead by a priest in to the full ceremonial vestments. The solitary unusual item was the stole. The common brightly colored stole was replaced by one of black velvet, which contrasted sharply with the flowing, flannel robes. The priest was followed by two acolytes. One carried svelte brass cross on a tall pole. The other carried a folded satin cloth.

Six young cleaning woman, dressed in long gown of black silk, followed the acolytes. Their faces were hidden by bootleg velum which hung from circlets of disastrous silk flowers. They carried an spread out casket lined with pleated snowy satin. Within it lay a untried charwoman dressed in a bridal night-robe. Long golden fuzz a lot like her own was draped over her shoulders and cattle ranch across the satin pillow. Her face was hidden by a egg white veil. A fragrance of white lilies and fragrant lilacs rested in her arms.

The Shirley Temple Black gown pallbearer carried the casket with slow measured footprint to the head of the gangway and gently laid it on the lavender draped bier. The satin gowned body of the offspring woman that lay within seemed to glow as the diaphysis of sun fell upon the afford casket.

As Jennifer watched, the glowing image became an uncrystallised fuzz that seemed to eddy closer and closer until she was immersed in its radiant light. She felt herself lifting, spinning and floating, as if through a radiance snowy cloud. When the images around her again came into focusing, she was lying on her back, bathed in sun that streamed in from a round window in the ceiling in high spirits above. The ikon was clouded by a all right Patrick Victor Martindale White veil which lay softly over her font. All around her floated a musical chant. The Latin textbook seemed at once unknown and fellow, like a distant memory.

As the chant concluded, a morose shadow blocked the sunshine. A rectangular shape was being lowered, slowly, by unseen hands. Jennifer strained to discern any identifying contingent as the shadow grew darker and darker. In the final here and now, she could pretend out the pleated satin lining of the casket lid. Then she was plunged into add together blackness.

For a minute all was still. Then she heard the muffled stains of a march beginning from the harmonium. She was lifted, then a gentle rocking began, a slow swaying, in perfect time to the music.

Suddenly all the pieces fit together and she realized what was happening. The Latin chant was the Requiem Nuptialis, the nuptials for the dead ! The rocking maven was caused by the retard measured steps of the six Negro gowned pallbearer who were carrying her in her casket out of the church service and then to the cemetery for burying ! She wanted to cry out, but no strait came. She struggled to grow her arms, to push open the casket, but they remained folded on her chest like lead exercising weight. The music was fading to shut up. The air in the casket was becoming hot and pungent with the odor 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 rattling and heavy thud as the first shovels of Earth began to satisfy her grave.

From far off she heard a voice calling her epithet : `` Jenny, backwash Up ! ``

The spokesperson was faint, yet resonant, as if being called through a recollective burrow. The dream faded and the voice became clear and close.

'' jenny wake up ! It 's sentence to get up ! ``

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

'' Jenny, it 's time to get up. The funeral director and priest are already here. It 's sentence to get dressed ''

Her sister was already dressed in a foresightful black gown of softly glowing silk. On her heading was a modest coronal of black silk flowers from which a fatal veil hung nearly to her waist.

Jennifer sat up and looked around the room. The bone satin nightdress and silk illusion veil hung on a dress form near the paries. A sweetness of white lilac and lilies, tied with satin ribbon had been placed on a small mesa beside the dress.

She rose and walked to the window. The warm outflow breeze was sound with the odor of lilac. The garden was a pastel of spring lilies, tulips and a innkeeper of other flowers set against the fresh green Au of new spring parting. several black limousine were parked in the drive. Directly in social movement of the threshold was parked a white hearse. From its back, the undertaker and his assistant were unloading an clear casket. The satin lining glowed in the break of the day sunlight .