The Wind of SleepIn the mornings, depending on the whim of the night before, we are awakened by either the quick buzz of the alarm or the gentle insistence of the radio, the latter usually being set to the local NPR affiliate.
But this morning the radio was somehow turned low and tuned badly, and I lay awake in the dim light listening to a human voice rising and falling in every way like the wind can howl outside in the middle of winter. It was exactly like that: the voice rose, waited, fell, to fall silent for a while. The tones were wind tones, the words muddied by the quiet. The volume was low enough (and the dream I had awoken from odd enough) that it took some time to convince myself it was real.
In fact, I was momentarily gripped by the fear that this was in fact a radio station of a man chanting without mind to mimic the wind in winter, and I was terrified. The remote was on top of the radio (why does that always happen?) and I did not want to get out of bed.
But I did, and it was a rendition of a Catholic mass. Radio got flipped to AM somehow. Nothing sinister at all.
Additionally, I have found more text on my money. Today's bill says:
SPOONY-HERMINIE#2PH 6-8-01
No idea. None whatsoever.
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