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felt as if I passed a test somehow.
                  “Why didn’t you help me?” I asked.  My body continued to shake because of the cold.  “I was drowning.”  Somehow, I felt wounded because my angel didn’t help me.
                  His smile quickly disappeared, and his expression became brooding.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “Can you ever forgive me?”
                  “Of course.  I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
    He frowned.  Apparently, the angel didn’t think that my joke was funny at all.  Maybe it’s me.  Maybe I say really weird things sometimes.
    “Are you cold?” he asked.  “This is just a dream.  There ’s no reason for you to be cold.”
                  As soon as he said the words, I felt warmth on my skin.  It was like the heat of the sun touching me on a warm summer day.  Suddenly, the purple sky became brighter.  
    I looked at him again.  I was still in awe, and I couldn’t believe that I was talking face to face with an angel.  Even in my dream, I knew that we were crossing barriers by talking this way.
    “I’m glad I can see you.  It’s nice to put a face to the voice,” I said , and it was the truth; I was really glad that I can see him.
                  “Meaning?” he asked.
    “Before I saw you in school yesterday, I used to hear your voice in my head… at night… in my room… at school.  You talk all of the time in a language I don’t  understand.  That’s why I ran. I recognized your voice, and I thought I was crazy.”
    “Oh, I thought I scared you.”
    “You’re not that scary looking,” I mumbled.  Stunningly gorgeous, maybe, but never scary.
    “That’s comforting to know since you ran away from me twice when you saw me.”  He lifted two fingers.
    “I didn’t know,” I said. I looked up and noticed that the sky was changing colors from a deep purple to a dark blue. 
    The angel said, “W e don’t have a lot of time.”  The angel lifted his right hand and moved it towards me.  His fingers were closed in a tight fist. 
    “It’s a gift,” he explained.  “I want you to have it.”   I stared intently at his hand as he opened it slowly.  Confused, I looked deep into his beautiful purple eyes. 
    “What is it?” I asked in awe. 
    “What else could it possibly be?  It’s the only thing I coul d ever give you,” he said.  “A miracle.”
     
     

CHAPTER 7
     
     
     
                  “What was in his hand?” my psychiatrist asked.  She leaned forward in her chair, looking very interested in what I had to say.  Maybe I was more entertaining than her usual patients… or maybe I sounded crazier.
    “Nothing.” I said.  “He wasn’t holding anything in his hand.  It was all very confusing to me.  I should have asked him when I had the chance.”  I sighed.
      “What is it supposed to mean?” I asked.  If anyone should know, it would be my psychiatrist, right? 
                  “I don’t know,” Dr. McKenna said.
                  “Have you ever had a dream so real that you wondered that maybe it was real?” I asked.
                  Dr. McKenna remained silent.  She looked away quickly, and her body immediately tensed. Maybe I was asking too many questions for a patient.  Maybe the questions were only supposed to go one way, and asking Dr. McKenna personal questions were not allowed.  I shrugged.  No one told me the rules.  Since this was the very first time I have ever seen a psychiatrist in my life, I think I should be allowed some leeway.
                  “The thing is, before I met my angel, I never believed that angels even existed,” I said.   “Funny, right?” 
    I looked out the window and saw a sole pigeon flying in the air.   Los Angeles was full of pigeons, and they blend in quite well with the city; they were on the curb, on top of a pole, sitting inside