11:18 Footfalls

…I fell asleep, as usual, to the sound of the 11:18 heavy footsteps. I only remember bits and pieces of my dream that took place in a great farmhouse perched upon a ridge bounded by water and distant mountains–the pattern of a Persian rug or shafts of sunlight through an orange tree swaying in the breeze. However, I find that I have been marked with a singular vision that I fear will presage things to come….