Waking Up on the Wrong Day

Bad enough I thought today was Sunday. I was all set to grab my book and go sit out on the deck (a favorite Sunday morning pastime), but I couldn't leave my dream. It was one of those vivid ones where voices are clear and the scene crammed with rich details. I walked up to a funky brownstone. The window looking out over the busy street was lined with potted plants, floral and striped sheets hung as billowing curtains, and books arranged in teetering stacks. Who had I come to visit? Whoever lived there needed to call an exterminator pronto. A large rat scurried along the windowsill. I knocked only once before entering the apartment. A jumbo dining room table in the corner of the living room served as library, TV stand, writing desk, and breakfast nook. A friendly-faced couple sat chatting on a settee. They paused their conversation as I closed the front door. The man and woman weren't the least bit surprised to see me. I had never met these two before, but I knew their names to be Annie and Bill. They asked me if I had trouble finding the place. I replied no. I found the way quite easily. Annie and Bill smiled and nodded. I stood in the middle of their apartment not knowing what I was expected to say. Annie finally broke the silence.

"He's waiting for you upstairs."

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