My Own Grave

I woke up in a car. The air was stale. I needed fresh air badly. I needed to get out. I exited the car, groggy from sleep and stretched deeply reaching for the sky breathing in the damp, but fresh air. I suddenly realized I was in New Orleans. I was standing in a lot overrun with weeds and patches of wild, overgrown grass. To my left was an old house. It was a big old house. I briefly caught a glimpse of myself in the window. It seemed that this house was actually me in a parallel universe. I turned from the house and looked down and noticed what looked like cellar doors. The wood of the dooors was very old and looked weather worn. I suddenly knew that these doors were not to a cellar at all. The doors in the ground were in fact my grave. There was no panic or feeling of stress. I was calm in a moment of Divine Providence.

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