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Dream Cadaver By: John Miller

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Dream Cadaver
By: John Miller


“So… this is my guardian angel,” he said with disgust and looked at it. The angel struggled helpless against the chain with agony etched upon its face. Nine-inch nails protruded from its shoulders and hips and pinned it onto the stone altar. “It was supposed to watch over my life. It failed.”

“You’ve been unemployed for a long time,” she soothed his anger. “Your guardian angel is supposed to help you with such affairs, but this angel is young and inexperienced.”

“If he couldn’t get the job done then he should have asked for help… from above.” His eyes lifted and he saw the Great Nebula in the distance. “But it didn’t… and now my life is ruined.”

“Just one of your lives,” she cautioned him. “You were fired from your job in physical reality… but in this realm you’re still who you are.”

“And that is?” he asked.

“A great wizard… a dark mage,” she replied.

“What good does it do when this invisible realm revolves around physical reality?” he shrugged. “This astral realm we rule as demigods is chained to physical reality. No matter how powerful someone is spiritually, they are still bound to the laws and drudgery of physical reality and their status there. I am weakened in this realm by my unemployment in that realm.

“This angel was to be my guardian. He was to watch over me, guide and help me financially. He failed.”

The angel opened his perfect eyes and looked at the bald sorcerer who removed a jeweled sacrificial dirk from his robe. The angel screamed. The sorcerer saw his own image reflected in those perfect eyes. His hands raised high, and the blade descended with certain doom upon the hapless angelic guardian. The angel’s eyes widened as the blade sunk deep into its chest.

“You are an angel no more,” the sorcerer said to the angel.

“Angel no more,” Shalla-Bal agreed.

The angel’s body dissipated, turned into silver vapor and wafted over the stone altar. The sorcerer breathed deep to inhale what was left of the angel.

“Now your powers are mine, young angel,” he said as his body shimmered with a silver sheen even as his aura darkened. “Let’s see what happens in physical reality now, eh? With your powers I’ll bet I can easily gain employment without even trying.”

“Your body,” she complained. “It’s turning invisible.”

“I’m waking up… back in physical reality,” he groaned. “I told you I couldn’t sleep.”

He felt the pull of consciousness upon his mind, and he soared like a bat out of hell and dove. He fell through the bottom of the cloud and continued to fly faster, until his ethereal body passed through shingled roof and wooden beams and the plaster of a ceiling wall. Before him he saw his physical body stir, his conscious mind almost awake.

The sorcerer reintegrated into his physical body with the power of a young angel. Angelic, power-filled spells hung about his body and he smiled with expectation. He felt his astral-mind take a backseat to his conscious mind, the personality he used in physical reality.

* * *

John woke with a start. He shook his head and muttered, “Weird dream.” A line from an alternative rock song stuck in his head: Where angels refuse to die. He didn’t know what it meant and he really didn’t know the song well. Sleepless, he went downstairs in the wee hours of the morning to his computer and logged online. He turned on the internet radio but paid no attention to what played.

He was happy to discover a letter from a perspective employer when he opened his e-mail. The company wished to interview him and basically said he already had the job. It was almost miraculous. He thought of his girlfriend who depended upon his finances when he worked and he smiled.



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