In my dream this epoch battle rages between angels and demons. My mom, is Mother Goose. She barks and barks at my dad, who is Jack Sprat. They are fighting over me and my siblings, whether we should be fed to the Ectoplasm, or simply turned over to Beezlebub. The demons race for the high ground, my parents take up the rear. Angels reach the peak first and blow the shofar, preparing for a bloodbath. The demons, already frightened by the trumpets, see that the angels are not human-like, and begin falling like flies. Michael and Gabriel execute all the Ectoplasm. I see Michael staring into my face, longing to understand the spirit in me. I snap to, and I'm relieved that my dream is a vision. The sky is not actually falling, and I will not be fed to the Big Bad Wolf.
Carmina ad Gloriae Dei 