Earl fell asleep listening to the old movie. The woman said in a clotted german accent said The white sands of Africa...How I miss the white sands of Africa He looked out the window at the gravel under the yellowish electric moon of the street light. The white sands of Africa, he thought.

In his dream he walked down the street, wading through a thicket of ghosts.

The ghosts in Earl's dreams reminded him of his own death, which was separated from himself by decreasing years. The years were like mouths, mysteries snaked into figure eights around the teeth. Earl could not see inside them, he could not pry open the lips. His death was at the end and that was the secret comfort that all of the ghosts in his dreams brought him.