And as usual, the memory of the dream
seemed more vivid than her memory of what she had done this morning.
It came back to her -- the light in the sky had been yellow, almost
gold, with a brown tint. That was what made it look so unusual, this
dream-light. It wasn't the sunlight of the world when everyone is
awake and concentrating on whatever was going on beneath them. A light
reserved for people who didn't deserve it, or know what it was, or what
it meant. At least, that's what it seemed like in the dream. Or maybe
she had made all that up after she woke up. But she did remember it
had altered into a haze, growing more uniform, covering the world in a
grey aura. The white of the clouds gave way, under pressure of a great
and unstoppable force, to something else, which she couldn't describe.
This, whatever it was, blanketed the sky, offering neither snow nor
rain, instead smothering the world below from whatever was above.
Except now, the clouds began to descend.
In parallel streams, this gray sky, this aura seemed to move toward
her. Julia felt herself begin to giggle, that nervous giggle when she
knew something was wrong but didn't know what.
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