Second Dream
August 3, 2020. I grabbed a bottle of Russian Imperial Stout from the ice in the freezer, set it on the counter, then raised my glass and finished the beer.
Wait, I started to wake, I hadn’t been drinking tonight. That wasn’t the counter or freezer in my house. Was this a dream? An echo in the dream carried a voice…”She’s home now!”
Please, get me back there, let me back into the dream. The vague shape of the dream house started to come back, I rounded the corner approaching a kitchen that doesn’t exist.
Please, Carol, say something.
I could make out a countertop, cupboards, fridge, but the figure standing there was a blur, shapeless. I tried to focus, bring it together. Is it Carol? Or Marilyn? Kim? Someone else?
The whole vision began to break up like the wind scattering a plume of smoke. I looked at the alarm clock: 11:02. It’s going to be a long night.
One Man's Story 