Ovo 1.3.2 -

Not a light. A warmth . Like an egg remembering the hen.

Ovo 1.3.2 is warm again.

That was the first night. The second night, I dreamed of a bridge collapsing in a city I’d never visited. The third night, a woman’s voice gave me the winning lottery numbers for a drawing that wouldn’t happen for another eight months. The fourth night, I dreamed of my own funeral. The casket was closed. No one cried. Someone had placed a single bruised plum on the lid. ovo 1.3.2

The line went dead.

She looked up. “You’re late,” she said. “The accident happened yesterday.” Not a light

I think when it stops, so will I.

I bought it for seventeen dollars and a broken watch. The third night, a woman’s voice gave me

That was three days ago. I haven’t slept since. The dreams have started bleeding into the daytime—hallucinations of glass flowers growing from the floorboards, the child’s voice whispering from the sink drain, the smell of rain that hasn’t been scheduled yet. Last night, I found a photograph on my phone that I didn’t take: me, standing in that field of glass, holding the hand of a woman whose face I couldn’t remember forgetting.

I dreamed I was standing in a field of glass flowers. Each one rang at a different pitch when the wind passed through. In the center of the field was a door. Behind the door was a hallway. At the end of the hallway, a child sat on the floor, drawing a picture of me.

Ovo 1.3.2 sat on the table. Its hum had dropped half an octave.