She does have wings on her back. This, I am sure of. Although I have yet to see the wings, I know that when she goes to sleep at night, they must grow from the curve of the spine in her back. There, they flutter about as she sleeps. Until morning, when, before she wakes, the wings retreat back into her skin, hiding once more until nightfall.
      She lives in a tree house.
      This house is in the woods and there are dark trees all around it. When the sunlight hits, everything glimmers as if the sun has struck water.
       There are candles all about and a warm fireplace and green plants.
       Everything does feels like pillow clouds and angel dust and honey.
       I do believe that when she cooks, in the beautiful kitchen of the beautiful tree house, whatever is in the pot does turn color, does bubble up and froth, and does release a mist of peace and hope and angel wings.
       All while the candles flicker.
       There is a white bathtub which is a soaker and sometimes the cat sticks his paws into the water, as if to take a swim. There are pleasant nooks in the wall of the tub and a wooden plank that sits on both its edges, where tea or coffee or wine can be kept while soaking.
       Well, I do believe I am in Heaven. Or some version of it?
       She does say that when she dies, she would like to be my angel. I do need an angel. But I think she says this, primarily, because she does not want me to know about the wings in her back that flutter about as she sleeps. Even so, I will make a call tonight.
       And ask about this business of having an angel.