Expecting Mercy

I was sitting in the dugout next to a person I suspected of being an angel. There were others on the bench. Beyond us, there was an empty field, that is, void of bases and players, of grass or trees or even distance. Sitting on the bench,was it the sidelines? ~ to my left was a young girl. She stood suddenly, and faced me. I could see she was beautiful, with deep blue eyes and gleaming white blond hair. She was soft, and wore a summer dress with pleats. She took my hand and drooled a little spit into it. It was greenish with mucous. She put her small finger in it and stirred it round a bit on my palm. I gently removed my hand from hers, and said, ‘You shouldn’t do that, others might think it is not polite,’ wiping the spittle off with a portion of her dress.

‘How do you know right from wrong?’
‘You’re supposed to know in your heart.’
‘How come your daddy didn't?’

At this, the little girl reached for my throat as if to strangle me, and I pushed her away, so startled that I woke up. What was she telling me? I cringed a bit, in the bed sheets.





Last night’s bedtime notes:
“You must make a wholehearted choice of the divine will. You must obliterate the dead center of indecision.”