"Wake up, woman!" The earth dropped away in a whirl of colour and I tumbled through a blanket of clouds. Only darkness remained. I jolted up and stared into my dark bedroom, “Stupid dream, waking me up like this!” A soft voice said, "Hello." I sang, "My name is Elder Price," because ever since seeing The Book of Mormon in the theatre, that song played in my head when someone said hello. "How droll." That didn't sound like my husband. I clasped my hands around the blanket, cold sweat on my brow. I muttered, "Get a grip, Jo! You're still dreaming!" I slowly moved my left arm, and turned on the light. “Hello!” I blinked. On my husband's pillow sat a gothic doll. It wore a black robe and a pointy hat. Its large ears spread out like wings. I rubbed my eyes and wondered if it was normal to have ears like that. And then it dawned on me. I whispered, "An Elf?" The elf shrugged, and smiled with shiny black teeth, "Of a sort." I closed my eyes tight andopened them again slowly. The elf waved at me. I said, "Am I dreaming?" "No, I'm really here." "But ..." The elf raised his hands, "Don't worry. I won't take you behind the veil just yet. Just picked up someone nearby and thought I'd check in." "You did what? Wait! Who are you?" He laughed, slapping his knees with his tiny hands. I sat up straight, my eyes focused on the glow in the dark skull on his shirt. I said, in a pondering sort of voice, "Are you Death?" "That took you too long, given that you were reading mr. Pratchett's book about me before sleeping." I poked at his chest, "You don't look anything like his Death. Don't sound like him either!" His tourmaline teeth reflected the light of my lamp. "Silly woman, I can look and sound like anything." I stammered, "So ... why are you here? I'm not ready to die, damnit!" He rolled his wild night eyes and said, "You are not going to die today, you nincompoop! I've just told you that! Just thought I'd check in." "But why?" "I heard you dream of icecream earlier. You know that stuff will kill you, right?" My eyes widened and I gasped, "Oh gods, a dieting guilt trip from Death?" "Not a dieting guilt trip, just a wish for you to take better care of yourself so you won't move to an earlier spot in my calendar." I stared at him, "You have a calendar?" He held up a shiny black phone, "Next year's iPhone, thanks to one of my customers. I've got a planner in here. Super handy. Sends alerts and everything." I slumped back in my pillow and laughed at the irony, "Death has a new shiny iPhone ... Granted, it's cooler than a scythe. So, why do you want me to stop dreaming of ice cream?" He shrugged, "Just want you to hop around on earth a bit longer." His phone chimed. He looked down on it and frowned, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and get another customer. He's at the North Pole." "Oh boy, did Santa die?" He grinned softly, and then waved, "Have a good life, Josephine Roberts, and remember, veg over snacks." He vanished in a flash, as one would expect from Death. I jumped out of bed, and ran down the stairs to my husband, who was still up, watching TV. He frowned, "What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost." I sat down next to him and put my head on his shoulder, "Oh, I'm just going insane. Nothing big." "What? What would make you say that?" I shrugged, "Oh, I don't know. Sorry, just woke up from a nightmare." I could hear laughter in the distance. "Did you hear that?" "Hear what?" "That laughter." My husband shook his head at me, "Go to bed, woman, you're still dreaming." "Must be ..." I stumbled up the stairs, fell back on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. I rolled over, and in the spot where Death had been sat a big bag of spinach. The laughter was in my head again, and this time, I couldn't help but laugh along.