While checking my social network sites, I ran across something absolutely mystifying! I received a comment with a picture of my mother! The comment was: How have you been son in the last 40 years!

I replied: I’ve been reasonably happy, thank you.

What am I doing? Am I going crazy?

My mother has been dead for 40 years. This is impossible! But there was her picture and comment staring me in the face! Was someone playing a joke on me?

So I replied back asking this person only questions my mother would know the answers to. The answers came back promptly. They were all exactly correct!

So I replied: Wonderful to talk to you again Mom.

The reply came back: Have you accomplished what you wanted to in life son? I remember you wanted to be a writer.

I replied: Yes, Mother, you remembered correctly. I finally accomplished it in my retirement. I have a blog and two books out.

Mom replied: I’m so proud of you, my Son. Remember when you were a boy and I told you to mind your manners, they might come back in style someday.

I replied: Yes, Mom, I remember. You always were one to joke around.

Mom replied: You used to be so timid. Are you standing on your own two feet now?

I replied: Oh yes, Mom, I remember you saying to me that I can’t lean on you always. You made me strong so I could take care of myself.

Mom replied: Oh Son, I thought you were the only perfect child in the world, but of course every mother has one.

I replied: Is there some reason why you contacted me now, after all these years?

The reply came back quickly: Well Son, I’ve been waiting in this line leading up to the Pearly Gates and I’m finally here. Your father is further back.

I asked: It took 40 years to get to the end of the line?

Mom replied: Yes, it’s a very long line! Well, anyway, the chap at the gate now says he’s lost our marriage certificate and he can’t let us in without it!

I replied: What do you want me to do?

Mom replied: I need you to email me a copy via attachment. The email address is: annie@pearlygates.co.heaven.

I emailed the certificate immediately. It’s good I saved all of my parent’s documents!

Mom replied: Thanks Son, your father and I are in! We will check out your two books. By the way, the three people that I got friendly with behind me in line were impressed by your writing career when I told them! I’m signing off now, I love you Son—Click and my Mother was gone!

That night I checked my sales figures and I had sold five more books! This was great! Sales from cyberspace!

Now, I wonder if my Grandparents will contact me from cyberspace?

I have a comfortable lounge couch in my study that resembles a psychiatrist’s couch. One day I was having writer’s block and I felt extremely tired. So I laid down on the couch and fell asleep.

I had this dream: I was marooned on an uninhabited island. Then I saw this raft appear with this beautiful woman on it drifting in the gentle sea breeze. She was wearing a grass skirt and fig leaves were covering her breast. She was waving to me to swim out to her.

She was curvaceous and long legged, her hair was long and midnight black. Her jade-green eyes were boring a hole through to my soul. She had pouting lips and they were sultry and succulent! Naturally I jumped into the sea and swam out to the raft.

When I got to the raft the beautiful woman had turned into the Grim Reaper! He was a hooded figure with flowing black robes and of course he had a scythe!

The Reaper said:

“Are you ready?”

I said, as I was floating in the water:

“Am I going to die soon?”

The Reaper nodded.

“I want a second opinion,” I demanded.

The next thing I knew, I was in a psychiatrist’s dimly lit office and reclining on his couch. The doctor was an old bearded man with bushy eyebrows, dark penetrating eyes, a falcon’s nose, and I couldn’t see his mouth because of the beard. He had a soothing voice:

“Tell me about your dream.”

I told him about the island and the beautiful woman turning into the Reaper. He stroked his beard.

“What’s the dream mean, Doc?” I stammered.

“Well, a deserted island means you spend too much time alone. As far as the woman and the Reaper, it means stay away from beautiful women, they could be hazardous to your health!”

“Doc, I need to know how I can nullify this nightmare?”

“Have good thoughts before you go to bed.”

He started laughing in a wicked way and then he became the hooded figure!

I woke up in a cold sweat back in my study. I thought:

“I certainly don’t want to have that nightmare again!”

I better stick to my AMERICAN DREAM: driving a BRITISH sports car, smoking a HAVANA cigar, and drinking RUSSIAN vodka on the FRENCH RIVIERA!

I was out for my daily constitutional walk, when I passed a strange house. I stopped in my tracks!

The windows were covered with webs and the glass was so filthy it was impossible to see inside the house. There was a sign on the door: Horoscopes, Come In And Learn Your Future! I was intrigued.

I walked up to the door, but before I knocked, I thought, I wonder who will come to the door? Maybe, a witch, with warts and grey, white hair, one that is very ugly. I’ve heard of people being turned into rabbits by witch’s spells!

I shook my head and knocked. The door opened and there stood a beautiful woman. She was tall and willowy. Her hair was mercury-red and it tumbled over her bare shoulders. She had blue eyes and pouting red lips. She was dressed in a long gothic gown that reached to the floor.

“Come in,” she said in a soothing voice.

She sat me down on a red sofa in a dark lounge. She sat opposite me in a red armchair. I glanced around the room and noticed a large caldron in the fireplace.

“So, you would like to know your future?”

“Yes, I would,” I mumbled.

“It will cost you a fiver.”

I gave her the money.

“Why do you want to know about your future?”

“Well, I would like to be reassured it will be good,” I said stammering.

She smiled.

Now, I noticed the fire was going and the caldron was bubbling softly.

“Just making some soup,” she said, noticing my concern.

I was starting to sweat!

“Do you believe in astrology?”

“Sort of, I am naturally superstitious.”

She reached out and took my hand in both of her soft hands. She raised her slender eyebrows and looked me in the eye. Her eyelashes were long and velvety. The experience was surreal!

“You are connected to the entire cosmos,” she said squeezing my hand.

But then she frowned and said:

“But the stars are telling me some strange information about you. You will live long and happily eating leafy greens and vegetables!”

“What’s that all about?” I shouted.

All of a sudden the caldron started steaming. The red haired lady was staring at me like she was putting a spell on me!

I snatched my hand away from her and ran out of the house.

Once out, I noticed I was HOPPING DOWN THE STREET!

I was mingling at the Literary Lunch and I sat down at a table with an interesting looking bunch of people.

“May I sit here?” I said.

“Be our guest,” said the blond woman.

There were four other men at the round table.

“I’m Writer Dave,” I said.

“My name is Marilyn,” said the blonde.

“I’m Thomas,” said the long grey haired gent with the dark suit and high collar white shirt.

“My name is Walt,” said the non-descript man.

“I’m Winston,” said the chubby fellow.

“I’m Jack,” said the young man with the thick head of hair.

“We were just talking about differences of opinion, Dave, and I said, I’ve never considered a difference of opinion in politics, religion, or philosophy, a reason for withdrawing from a friend,” said Thomas.

Then Walt spoke up, “I’ve never lost a friend I wanted to keep.”

“Well, I feel if we listened to other opinions beside our own, we just might learn something,” I chimed in.

“I remember I was once with a woman who intimidated I was drunk and she looked down her nose at me. So, I said, I may be drunk, madam, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly!” smiled the chubby Winston.

We all laughed.

“Too often we enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought,” said young Jack.

“I think that is very true,” I said.

“You gentlemen are all very erudite. My opinion is, I don’t mind living in a man’s world as long as I can be a woman in it,” said Marilyn.

We all smiled and raised our eyebrows.

Jack winked at Marilyn, like he knew her before.

“Well, with your looks, I don’t think you’ll be spending much time alone,” said Jack.

“I restore myself when I’m alone,” said Marilyn seriously.

“I’m a gossip columnist,” said Walt, “And I write stories about women like you!”

Marilyn scowled and said, “Dogs never bite me-just humans.”

“Oh Walt, that’s one for Marilyn,” said Winston.

There was silence for a minute while we all sipped our drinks.

Then Winston continued, “Enemies, you have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, you’ve stood your ground, sometime in your life.”

“Here, here,” said Thomas, “In matters of style, swim with the current; in matters of principle, stand like a rock.”

“I write about gossip and gossip is the art of saying nothing in a way that leaves practically nothing unsaid,” said Walt, looking at Marilyn.

Marilyn glared at Walt and said, “I like some men’s company but some I can’t stand.”

Walt laughed, “She’s been on more laps than a napkin!”

“That’s one for you Walt,” said Winston.

“Is this a sort of game, where you keep score?” I said.

“Come on, lets all be friends. Forgive your enemies, but never forget their names,” said Jack, smiling at Marilyn.

“The glow of one warm thought is to me worth more than money,” said Thomas.

“That’s very true,” I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Looking at Walt, Marilyn said, “I don’t mind people making jokes, but I don’t like people to try to make me one!”

“Come on, Marilyn, give us something to write about,” laughed Walt.

“Okay, I will. So, you want to know what I wear in bed? Why, Chanel No. 5 perfume, of course!”

The whole table roared with laughter!

It was then I noticed all the place cards on the table. I was in the company of Thomas Jefferson, Winston Churchill, JFK, Walter Winchell and of course, Marilyn Monroe!

I was gobsmacked! And then I woke up!