Sorry, Mate

3am. The witching hour, but this isn’t about witches. This is about me. Mostly. My name is Joseph, and I have had a strange dream. I came here, to this grungy diner on Main Street. I won’t tell you the state. It could be in any state, right now. Because my dream just got crazy.

I’m sitting at a corner booth. You know the ones that circle around the table and are meant for larger parties? Well, it’s dead and the waitress must have thought it funny to seat me there. Alone. By myself. Until you sat down with me, that is.

Enough about the seat. Let me tell you about the dream. Please, help yourself to the fries. They aren’t really any good and I’m sure they’re growing cold, but at least it’s something to do while you listen.

You see, I’ve always had very vivid dreams, but they’ve never really scared me the way this one did. I’ll tell it to you plain. I was on a boat, surrounded by hundreds of passengers. They were all partying and the booze was flowing. Everyone was laughing and chatting with the people around them, but nobody seemed to see me.

Nobody seemed to feel me, either, though some people shivered as I walked by. I pushed past several of the party goers until I stood in front of someone. One moment. I’ll ask the waitress to bring us more coffee. You’re going to need it.

Now, I looked at the person in front of me. They didn’t look sick or anything, but that person saw me. Just stared at me, kind of the way you are right now. And right then, I knew. It was clear as it could be, that person was going to die. I didn’t know how, but I knew it was going to be soon.

I tried to talk to the person, but my words sounded like they were dancing through an air tunnel. The person tried to hear me, but it seemed nothing I said made sense to them. Perhaps what I’m saying doesn’t make sense to you, either.

I was desperate to speak with them, even though I knew, deep down, it wouldn’t do me any good. In a way, not being able to hear that person, and them not being able to hear me, probably was to spare me any grief, but I’ve never been one to take the easy way out.

Of course I kept trying. And when I continued to fail, I tried to get the attention of some of the other passengers. When I spoke to them, however, they vanished. As if they never were there. One by one, the crowd of people disappeared until it was just me, the person who saw me, and the ship’s captain.

That’s when I found out what I was there for. I was there to collect their soul. Me. Joseph from just this side of nowhere. Average Joe. And I’m the one who collects that person’s soul. I’m not very religious, mind you. You’d think it would be someone who believed in Heaven and Hell, but that just wasn’t me.

And just then, I woke up. I was bathed in sweat, shivering, and scared. And I knew I had to get out of the house, away from that bed. I knew I needed to come here, to this broken-down 24/7 diner with the cliche of a sign that’s got some lights broken.

I threw on the clothes I’d worn yesterday and came here. This was about a half hour ago. Finish up your coffee, all right? This won’t take much longer. You see, you’ve got more reason to be scared than I have.

You see, my dreams always come true, and the person in my dream...well. I’m very sorry, mate.