Sweet Dreams
I wake in the morning, early, sub-sunrise, smiling in my head and gut. Just returning home from a strange photo workshop. My ladies are asleep but I can’t wait to show them the fluffy hair that’s miraculously grown on my head overnight. As my wife and daughters lay all clumped up sleeping together in the […]
I wake in the morning, early, sub-sunrise, smiling in my head and gut. Just returning home from a strange photo workshop. My ladies are asleep but I can’t wait to show them the fluffy hair that’s miraculously grown on my head overnight.
As my wife and daughters lay all clumped up sleeping together in the bed and in nests on the floor like they used to create, I make them tiredly stroke my hair to see how it’s grown. They’re all excited for me. The clock is set back — not Daylight Savings — but years and years; my daughters are tiny and fresh and beginning.
Smiling so hard, so bright, I feel it in my gut. Still smiling as consciousness returns, the deep ache in my void feeling oh so good. I reach up and touch to see if it’s possible. Nope, still bald. But boy, the smile’s still shouting.
The moon or Venus and Jupiter play games with my psyche as they dance close together in the sky. I take a photo of my morning meds because they stare back at me. I explode with laughter from my belly.
Maybe I’m still asleep.
