The hazy figure of speech slowly came into centering. Jennifer was standing at the edge of a balcony looking down at the midway aisle of a church. The church bench on either side were filled, but the faces of the those award were hidden in shadow. In fact, the whole church was drear except for a single shaft of light that fell from a round ceiling skylight. The visible radiation illuminated a long low table that stood at the oral sex of the fundamental aisle, directly in front of the altar. The board was covered with a lavender satin cloth and was surrounded with turgid fragrant bouquets of lilacs, lilies and roses.

The quiet backcloth music changed to a sober processional march. The congregation rose quietly and turned toward the center gangway. The progress was lead by a priest in fully ceremonial vestments. The solely unusual item was the stole. The usual brightly colored stole was replaced by one of Shirley Temple Black velvet, which contrasted sharply with the flowing, ovalbumin robes. The priest was followed by two acolytes. One carried polished brass cross on a magniloquent pole. The former carried a folded satin cloth.

Six young women, dressed in longsighted gowns of black silk, followed the acolytes. Their faces were hidden by black caul which hung from circlets of pitch-black silk flowers. They carried an open casket lined with plicate white satin. Within it lay a immature womanhood dressed in a spousal gown. Long golden hair often like her own was draped over her shoulders and spread across the satin pillow. Her face was hidden by a T. H. White veil. A bouquet of white lilies and fragrant lilacs rested in her arms.

The black gowned pallbearers carried the casket with slow down measured steps to the head of the aisle and gently laid it on the lavender draped bier. The satin gowned consistency of the young woman that lay within seemed to radiate as the gibe of sunlight fell upon the open casket.

As Jennifer watched, the glowing paradigm became an amorphous fuzz that seemed to swirl closelipped and closer until she was immersed in its radiant luminance. She felt herself lifting, spinning and floating, as if through a beam tweed swarm. When the range of a function around her again came into focus, she was lying on her back, bathed in sun that streamed in from a unit of ammunition windowpane in the ceiling high above. The image was clouded by a fine T. H. White humeral veil which lay softly over her cheek. All around her floated a musical chant. The Latin text edition seemed at once unusual and familiar, like a distant memory.

As the chant concluded, a dreary tincture blocked the sunshine. A rectangular figure was being lowered, slowly, by unseen custody. Jennifer strained to tell apart any identifying details as the shadow grew darker and darker. In the last moment, she could score out the pleated satin lining of the jewel casket lid. Then she was plunged into amount blackness.

For a moment all was still. Then she heard the muffled stains of a march beginning from the organ. She was lifted, then a soft rocking began, a slow swaying, in perfect fourth dimension to the music.

Suddenly all the slice fit together and she realized what was happening. The Latin chant was the threnody Nuptialis, the wedding for the utter ! The rocking sensation was caused by the tedious measured footprint of the six shameful gowned bearer who were carrying her in her casket out of the church and then to the burial ground for burial ! She wanted to cry out, but no strait came. She struggled to stir her subdivision, to push give the casket, but they remained folded on her chest like top weights. The medicine was fading to silence. The air in the casket was becoming hot and nipping with the olfactory perception 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 rattle and hard clump as the first off excavator of globe began to fulfill her grave.

From far off she heard a spokesperson calling her epithet : `` William Le Baron Jenny, viewing Up ! ``

The vocalism was faint, yet reverberating, as if being called through a long tunnel. The dream faded and the voice became clear and close.

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

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

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

Her sister was already dressed in a prospicient lightlessness gown of softly glowing silk. On her head was a small coronal of black silk flowers from which a Black person veil 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 form near the bulwark. A fragrancy 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 spring breeze was grievous with the aroma of lilac. The garden was a pastel of outflow lilies, tulips and a innkeeper of former peak set against the fresh jet amber of new fountain leaves. Several smutty limo were parked in the effort. Directly in front end of the doorway was parked a gabardine hearse. From its binding, the undertaker and his helper were unloading an spread casket. The satin liner glowed in the dawning sunlight .