(A dream about) my dead cousin (#triggerwarning: #effigy)

This was my third religious dream in about as many weeks. So fucking weird. I wrote about that demon dream, had a second one I didn’t write about, and now this. What the fuck is going on?

I don’t remember a lot of detail, but it was in a place like London’s Westminster Abbey. I was attending the funeral of one of my cousins (who’s thankfully still alive). Her body had been placed in a very ornate tomb, along the lines of the royalty buried in the Abbey.

I recall I didn’t wanna be there. At all. I was even sort of afraid. Like maybe her death would somehow rub off on me (she’s only two and a half years older).

As I approached the tomb to pay my last respects, I heard this small, recorded voice–her voice–acknowledge me and proceed to tell me what I’d inherited. Wasn’t much.

You might be wondering, how did her tomb know I was approaching? Retinal scan? I don’t know. It was a dream.

The next significant thing was that, feeling increasingly creeped out, I backed away and somehow managed to trip back and over the tomb. Hard to describe. With my fall, I also managed to dislodge the effigy, removing the top of the tomb.

I didn’t dare look, but I knew the coffin was open. Her body was exposed. For all to see.

I wasn’t concerned with embarrassment, however; I was for some reason concerned that, were I to touch her body, I’d somehow

  • die as well
  • be possessed
  • or something.

I woke up soon thereafter, with the lingering fear of my cousin’s ghost. I had to consciously remind myself that none of it was real.

The worst part is I was more relieved at the lack of reality of the supernatural than of my cousin’s death. Sorry, cous.

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