Happy Deathday to You...and Other Stories to Give You Nightmares by George E. Stanley

So, I was just thinking about a dream while I was dreaming it? Now, that had never happened before. I’ll never live it down? Hold on a minute, that was just a thought about a thought in a dream. Or there was the one where I could skim down any set of stairs like it was an icy sidewalk in January. There was the time, for instance, when I had dreamed that her cousin’s entire family had turned into birds. My brain shifted into overdrive-Holy shit, what a dream!Įver since Evie and I first shared a bed sixty-two years ago, my very weird dream-life had been the source for countless hours of laughter. Some had come in PJs, some in top hats and some in nothing at all.

The room was abuzz, elbow-to-elbow, belly-to-belly, with strangers. In an instant, our tiny living room was hopping like a tailgater at the Super Bowl. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Whoosh.Īs I pulled my hand back through the second time, the whoosh wasn’t alone. I yanked my hand back and inspected it, front and back, then front again. When I say my hand went straight through the door, I don’t mean it broke through the door-Superman I’m not. Some pain-in-the-ass teenager or negligent parent was about to get reamed out by the little old man who lived with his little old wife in the little old bungalow on the corner. Whoever was out on the porch was poke-poking at the damn doorbell, over and over. I reached out for the Halloween candies that we keep in a jar by the door. Hold your horses or your dragons…or whatever.”

What the hell are trick-or-treaters doing out at midnight? I thought as I hustled to the front door. The doorbell rang again, this time in three rapid, insistent sets. Evie must have turned it down when she went to bed. I felt better than I had in months-rested and light on my feet.Ĭolbert was on TV, the sound so low I could barely hear it. I figured I must have had one hell of a sleep. No propping myself up on the arms to get into a standing position. Well, duh, it’s Halloween was the second. Must be more trick-or-treaters was the first thought I could muster with my sleep-clouded brain. My eyes popped open at the familiar double-chime of the front doorbell. “Fear of death is ridiculous, because as long as you are not dead you are alive, and when you are dead there is nothing more to worry about!”

Happy Deathday to You...and Other Stories to Give You Nightmares by George E. Stanley