Suddenly . . . . . it hit me like a ton of 
nuclear bricks.

In my novel it was also a Monday morning,
three or four a.m.  In my novel it was
October 21st, similar to a September 24th in
reality.  That same September day also
happened to be the day my own mother was
 going to the doctor to have some important
tests done on her to determine the cause of
her recurring stomach ailments.

My mother.

Belinda, the mother.  Dying.

My mother.  Dying???

I was high on acid.  For I came right down.

Straight and sober as an arrow.

I just lay there for awhile, cement-faced and
expressionless, then got up and left my attic
workshop to see my brother downstairs on
the second floor.  He was still awake and I
sat down on his recliner in the darkened
bedroom.