The door at the end of the hall opened into the late 1800's. I was standing on a city sidewalk looking at an optometrist sign above a shop door. It resembled an oversize pair of spectacles and precisely that moment one of the supporting chains snapped and the spectacles swung down dangling on the remaining chain. Now visible was an old round clock supported on a wall outside a clockmakers doorway. The clock had no hands. I pulled out my pocket watch and looked and it too had no hands. Nor did the tower clock over the towne hall building. Suddenly a horse drawn hearse came wildly up the street catching the rear wagon wheel on an old gas light pole. The horse continued to pull until the wheel was torn from it's axle dumping the cart and spilling the contents of the casket it was carrying. As I looked, the body in the casket was me.