Letters Strewn In A Dream

It is snowing now
I woke in the night, my eyes still closed I saw the hint of a small spark of white light on the other side, my eyes opened just then, and then they closed again, asleep again, I saw my face then, the way I looked that day, same clothes I had taken off for the clothing for sleep, hair the same way, I was facing forward looking straight ahead and bright, clear, soft letters were drawn there. 
I didn’t go to have ashes placed on my forehead on Wednesday a week ago, not purposely either way, I am humble, ashes or not, gentle bold humble I don’t resist what overpowers me. What I like best of Mass is communion and how they now light incense on the other side of the glass so the smoke wafts lightly making shapes in the air beside the priest’s hand and drifts through a space in the glass to me and my open hands. Words were strewn across my forehead if ashes hadn’t.

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