11am

last night i dreamt that instead of my grandmother, it was my parents that'd died. i was back in alabama at the church i went to all my life, and it was a regular sunday service and everyone knew they died but nobody was asking me how i was or talking to me much at all. i went to the organist after the service—i would sub or pinch hit for him during my last years in high school, so we usually chatted after each service. he was sitting outside the church talking about new musicians he'd just recruited—a couple who were officeworkers, and how they it turned out they could play something besides filing cabinets. the folks sitting with him laughed when he said that. i asked him if he needed a hand with any of the music stuff and he said no. i walked to the beveled glass front doors and am sure was about to start crying when i woke up.