June the sixth is a day for drying silks. The sixth day of the sixth lunar month is the Tujia traditional day for "Sun-Drying the Dragon Robe."

Many places have the custom of "Sun-Drying the Dragon Robe," but the origins vary. The Tujia people's ritual commemorates a native king surnamed Qin who died on the battlefield. As for this ancestor king's given name, some say Qin Hou, others say Qin Can; there is no unified conclusion. Legend has it that this Tujia ancestor was persecuted on the sixth day of the sixth month while protecting his clansmen, his dragon robe stained with blood. Out of gratitude, later generations move their clothes, bedding, books, and fans out to air every year on this day as a sign of remembrance.

When my grandfather was alive, he used to say that the "Yang energy" was strongest and the "Yin energy" weakest on the sixth of the sixth month. I never truly grasped the concept of "Yin and Yang energy," and my only real impression was how brutally hot the sun was that day every year. Last year’s June the sixth was no different; the sun cooperated perfectly, generously spilling scorching rays onto the ground. But at the time, I didn't even recall that it was the sixth of the sixth lunar month.

After finishing work that morning, I headed to the unit’s cafeteria where I downed two liang of spicy corn wine, slurped a bowl of piping hot oil tea soup, and ate two sweet paoba. As I left the cafeteria, I happened to glimpse an elderly woman outside the compound wall. She wore a white headscarf and a blue gown, and she was moving some old red and white clothes and quilts out of a room to air in the sun. Seeing this, I finally realized it was the sixth day of the sixth lunar month—no wonder the sun felt so vicious.

I stood in the shade, hand shading my eyes, watching the old woman silently. I remembered my deceased grandmother. Every June the sixth, she would painstakingly haul out the old clothes and bedding she had kept at the bottom of a chest for over a decade, beating and turning them in the sun. After a day, she would use her tiny, shuffling steps to fold everything neatly again, returning it to the black wooden chest that was her dowry when she became a child bride.

As a child, seeing those old garments and quilts—red as blood, white as snow, and garishly patterned—baking under the intense sun, and smelling that strange odor, whether of aged wood or mildew, always gave me the shivers. I couldn't fathom what it would be like to wear those things after my grandparents had "returned to the earth."

My grandfather passed away over a decade ago. In his final moments, he was unable to speak, his clouded eyes fixed blankly on me, a final breath caught stubbornly in his throat. According to local custom, my father was holding Grandpa's back, letting him rest semi-reclined in his arms. My father assumed Grandpa had final instructions, pressing his ear close to his pale lips. Grandpa managed to twitch his mouth slightly, saying nothing. A subtle expectation, one of not being able to close his eyes in peace, resided in his slowly dilating pupils.

I was young then and had never faced death. Seeing Grandpa staring at me like that, the atmosphere of sorrow and terror sent cold shivers down my spine. My small heart felt crumpled as if squeezed by an invisible, massive hand.

Just as those attending him were at a loss, Grandma reached under Grandpa's bed and pulled out a glass bottle of glucose. She brought the mouth of the bottle close to his lips. "I know, you old thing, you’ve been craving this even in death! Drink it, so you can pass on easily. When you get over there, I’ll have Yingying call you back for drinks anytime!" Grandpa’s lips moved again, and a glimmer of light sparked in his eyes. As that sip of liquid went down, a gurgle sounded in Grandpa's throat, and his breath never returned.

Wiping away a tear, I forgot my fear and, following my father’s instructions, lit the prepared "Qi-Releasing Money" and "Qi-Releasing Firecrackers." Father laid Grandpa’s body flat and removed his clothes. Grandma carefully wiped Grandpa’s slowly cooling body with hot water, then dressed him in the very old clothes and trousers that were aired out every June the sixth, meticulously smoothing out every crease. Only after everything was done in an orderly fashion did those seeing him off break into loud wails. Grandpa died late on the twenty-seventh night of the twelfth lunar month. After a three-day communal burial, in the early morning of the twenty-ninth—the day the Tujia people celebrate the "Early New Year"—Grandpa was laid to rest forever in the embrace of green mountains and clear waters.

That was the first time I directly witnessed life distinctly vanishing before my eyes, and the first time I saw those red and white burial clothes worn by the deceased.

After Grandpa passed, I was unaccustomed to things for a long time. The main reason was that I could no longer hear Grandpa telling those stories from the remote corners of the mountains, some magical, some eerie!

When Grandma passed, I was away at school and couldn't return home to see her off. I only saw her for the last time the morning she was taken up the mountain, when they opened the coffin. She lay peacefully in the coffin, clad in her treasured old garments and covered by the old quilt, her expression serene and calm...

"Yingying, are you sunbathing? Huh? What's wrong? Are your eyes sweating from the heat?" A colleague walked past me and greeted me curiously, seeing me standing numbly in the shade.

I started, suddenly realizing I had been crying while reminiscing about my grandparents. I sighed, looking at the old woman still busy working, at those old clothes and quilts swaying in the sunlight, and marveled at the Tujia people’s apparent composure towards life and death.

Back in the office, I turned on the air conditioner and lay down on the sofa, drifting off to sleep...

Huh? The door opened silently? I distinctly remember closing it before I lay down!

I felt someone standing quietly above my head. I tried to look up to see who it was, but found I couldn't move an inch—it was over; I was caught in "sleep paralysis" again!

My mind was perfectly clear, yet I couldn't move. I felt as if my soul and body had completely separated. I muttered inwardly, why have I been experiencing "ghost pressing on the bed" so often lately? According to Grandpa, this should only happen during the midnight transition between Yin and Yang. Why was a "ghost" showing up on this bright, sunny noon? Isn't this when "Yang energy" is at its peak? Who is the "ghost" pinning me down? What a truly bizarre happening!

The person silently lowered their face from above my head toward mine. I knew perfectly well my eyes were shut, and I tried to open them, but my upper and lower eyelids felt glued shut with strong adhesive; no matter how hard I strained, it was useless. Yet, I could clearly see that inverted face: a face rough and dark, covered in wrinkles, a tuft of snow-white goatee trembling slightly, and a mouth missing all but two front teeth curved into a meaningful smile.

Although my face was oriented opposite to the person's, I quickly realized who it was. I shouted, "Grandpa! Haven't you been 'old' for over a decade? Why are you back today?" As I shouted, I realized my voice was muffled in my throat, murky and faint.

My body still wouldn't move an inch, and my eyes wouldn't open. Knowing it was my grandfather didn't scare me much anymore. I quickly reviewed in my mind: I hadn't made any empty promises lately, and he loved me most when he was alive, so he shouldn't be here to frighten me.

Grandpa silently drifted over to the side of the sofa and squatted down to look at me. I jumped. Why was he wearing the same old clothes he died in? I desperately tried to open my eyes, desperately tried to make any part of my body move. From past experience, if any part of the body could twitch slightly during "sleep paralysis," one could break free from the oppressive weight and wake up immediately. But my struggle failed; I still couldn't move, though my consciousness remained crystal clear. I even knew exactly where I was, what time it was, and the environment around me.

"Grandpa, are you short of money over there? Or perhaps you’re out of wine? If so, you could send me a dream, and I’d 'mail' some to you! Don't do this thing where I can’t even move!" Unable to move my body, I attempted to articulate this clearly, but the sound remained trapped, my mouth unable to open.

Although I didn't say it clearly, Grandpa seemed to understand my meaning. He smiled slightly, and the gums showing his remaining two front teeth were clearly visible before me. His lips moved, as if he were saying something to me, but I couldn't hear his voice. The old clothes he died in looked strikingly glaring, completely out of place.

To be honest, I wasn't afraid at that moment; I gave up struggling. I said to Grandpa in my mind, as long as you don't harm me or make me come over to join you, I won't move if you keep me still! I haven't offended you, and I often visit your 'residence' to burn paper money and offer corn wine—why should I fear you?

"Hiss... hiss..." Just as my mood was settling into acceptance, a massive python head suddenly emerged beside Grandpa. Seeing this thing, my heart felt as if hammered by an iron mallet, and a deep sense of terror instantly flooded my mind like a tide. I tried to scream but found I couldn't even make a sound; my neck felt tightly constricted by a rope, a mass of foul energy choked my chest, giving me a sensation of impending suffocation. I clearly saw sunlight shining on me through the window, yet I felt no warmth; all the blood seemed to have drained away, leaving me utterly cold—I wonder if this is how the dead feel!

That huge, dark python head swayed back and forth less than a foot from my face. Its two blood-red, eerie eyes emitted a kaleidoscopic light, drifting across my face. Occasionally, it opened its pale, ugly mouth, puffing a cloud of white mist toward me. Its blood-red tongue almost brushed my nose tip, and its two long fangs gleamed coldly, dripping thick, murky saliva.

When the python opened its mouth, I felt it could completely swallow my head. What truly sent chills down my spine was that at the python’s "seven inches," a pair of chicken-claw-like feet had sprouted. My first thought was: I am about to die; my grandfather has come to take me to join him! Because he had said in life that if a person sees a snake grow legs, certain death is inevitable. I tried to look away, but realized I couldn't even move my eyeballs.

I wanted to cry out, "Grandpa, save me," but I felt Grandpa had stood up at some unknown moment. My gaze was fixed on the python's bizarre, ugly head, and I couldn't see Grandpa’s face at all. I only clearly sensed he was still standing beside me.

I grew more anxious, trying to muster all my strength into my feet or hands. If only I could move a tiny bit, I could escape this bizarre "sleep paralysis" and make this ugly creature vanish from my sight!

Since childhood, I feared nothing on earth, except this thing. This fear was innate. I always found it strange: I had never harmed a snake, never been bitten by one, held no grudge against them, and rarely even saw them—why was I so terrified? Was there truly reincarnation, and did my past life have a terrible feud with snakes?

Unable to move, I began to blame Grandpa standing beside me! You clearly knew I feared this thing, yet you brought such a massive python. Aren't you intentionally harming me? And you’ve paralyzed me on top of it—what do you mean? Are you really my grandfather? If not, once I break free from this "sleep paralysis," I’ll tunnel through heaven and earth to find your 'residence,' scatter a handful of rapeseed, or pour tung oil over your grave, turning you into a lonely, wandering spirit unable to reincarnate for eternity!

I cursed the air conditioner in the corner of the office in my mind: You damned thing, you usually roar pretentiously all the time, but today you’re dead quiet! You should at least squeak once! If you did, I could wake up from the dream and escape this terrifying "sleep paralysis"! The air conditioner made no sound, so I cursed the doorman soundly in my mind: What are you guarding for? How could you not see such a huge python running in? Are your eyeballs tucked into your crotch? What about my colleagues? How could such a massive python go unnoticed? Why didn't anyone call the police?

I cursed everything I could think of in my heart, but my body still couldn't move an inch, and although my eyes were closed, I could see everything clearly. I knew I encountered "sleep paralysis" because I had my hands resting on my chest. But right now, I couldn't move my hands away, nor could I cry out; there was no external sound to jolt me.

Grandpa was still standing there. I could only see his legs, clad in old trousers; I had no idea what he was thinking or what his expression was. I had already made a thousand promises in my mind to him: as long as he let me move, the moment I woke up, I would immediately buy joss paper and "mail" him money—as much as he wanted! I would also prepare a few bottles of Maotai and deliver them to his "residence" so he could drink his fill all at once.

Between praying and cursing, after struggling for a long time, I still couldn't move an iota, yet my brain was incredibly lucid. Logically, the body should tremble when gripped by extreme panic, but all that trembled then was the thinking in my mind.

I looked into the python's eyes and noticed its head slowly changing. In an instant, it transformed into an old tiger with a full coat of white fur. Seeing the python's head morph into a White Tiger, I let out a slight sigh of relief. As long as I didn't have to look at that thing, a tiger was fine. I knew clearly I was having a nightmare; once I woke up, this tiger would obediently disappear. I had never seen a tiger in my life, and perhaps ignorance breeds fearlessness—what the hell should I fear about you?

Just as I was secretly counting my blessings, though still unable to move and with my eyes closed, I noticed the White Tiger gradually transforming again, evolving into a young girl wearing yellow robes. I absolutely did not recognize this girl. I was very surprised—why would this girl be beside my grandfather?

The girl's face was very close to my eyes, appearing ethereal and exquisitely melancholic.

The girl gazed at me with infatuation for a long moment, then suddenly lowered her head and quickly kissed my lips. A sensation of ice instantly pierced the depths of my heart, startling me so much I wanted to roll over and sit up, only to find my body still unresponsive to my brain's commands.

After her hurried kiss, the girl looked up at me again, then suddenly pulled out an object—something that looked like iron but wasn't, or jade but wasn't—and sharply poked my waist with it...

"Ah—!"

I cried out wildly, letting out a huge breath, and suddenly opened my eyes. My limbs could move, and the tightness in my chest vanished completely.

I sat up on the sofa, realizing I had broken free from the "sleep paralysis."

The office was still brightly lit, the air conditioner was still roaring, and the sunlight outside was still viciously strong.

"Honey, honey, honey, I love you..." The phone strapped to my waist rang abruptly. I suddenly realized: when the girl in the dream used that unknown object to poke my waist, wasn't that precisely when my phone vibrated? No wonder I felt a tingling numbness in my right waist, but no pain.

I pulled out my phone. The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number from Guangzhou. Thinking it was another marketing call, I instinctively hit the reject button.

I lit a cigarette and began to reflect on this bizarre "sleep paralysis." Truthfully, I wasn't very afraid of "sleep paralysis"; scientifically, the phenomenon is called a nightmare, and I had experienced it several times recently.

In previous episodes of "sleep paralysis," the dream scenes were fragmented, blurry snippets that vanished completely the next day. But this time was clearly different. First, the timing was illogical. According to my grandfather's theories on Yin and Yang, so-called "ghosts" are Yin entities and should never appear when "Yang energy" is at its strongest—though I have always seriously doubted the existence of ghosts in the world. Second, the saying "As you think by day, so you dream by night" suggests dreams arise from the mind. If my accidental sighting of the old clothes and bedding that day triggered memories of Grandpa—that’s "daytime thinking"—then Grandpa appearing in my dream wasn't surprising. But what about the black python, the White Tiger, and the strange girl in yellow? I was certain my thoughts had never touched upon these things; my aversion to snakes was so strong that I feared even seeing the word "snake." Dreams featuring women were common, but usually people I knew or admired, not strangers. As for the White Tiger in the dream, it was even more inexplicable. Third, the dream was startlingly vivid, as if it had actually happened: Grandpa's old clothes, the python's bloody maw and fangs, the tiger's thick fur, the girl's brief kiss—it was all etched into my mind with perfect clarity. Fourth, the phone vibrating coincided precisely with the moment the girl poked my waist with that unknown object.

—Could such a strange coincidence actually exist in this world?

I suddenly remembered I had the "Duke of Zhou's Dream Interpretation" application installed on my phone. I quickly pulled it up and saw, clearly displayed: Dreaming of a dragon or snake portends the birth of a noble son!