The other morning, I woke up from a dream in a clammy, gasping sweat. There are many inexplicable aspects of the dream I can no longer bring to the surface for examination -- probably for the best. But, I do remember sitting around the picnic bench at my folks' place, crying hysterically because the world just broke the optimistic spirit of yet another loved one. My mom was there, trying to understand and console me. When I woke up, the misery was fresh and real, lingering and disorienting.
The next night, I dreamt I was sitting at the same picnic bench with my mom. This time, we were laughing at a video I was showing to her. It was some footage of the senior citizen residence where I'd been visiting that day (in the dream). Apparently, I was leading a group of about ten white-haired ladies in a sort of salsa soul-train. We were having a helluva good time and the last pa

Upon a little reflection, I think I've divined the lesson to be found from these two nights of dreams: Do not, under any circumstances, dare to dream when you are so sick that your nasal passages are not free and clear. Trust me, you'll only regret it if you do.
1 comment:
Amen.
You might even find yourself being sung to by an aged Bing Crosby.
Or dreaming about a snake... in a vest....
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