I must have slept pretty good. The wakeup was easy and the fallback no less. ‘Barely remember the alarm goin’ off, shuttin’ it off. There was a dream that felt real enough, thought I was there, stuff happened the way stuff happens which isn’t exactly the way my dreams usually unwind.
Don’t know where I lived but it was on water, a stream I would guess with a barn and woods. I was old and I had a herd of what must have been river otters that split their time between the water and my barn. We got along famously and people came by to see how we were doing. They (otters) would climb on me, eat from my hand but I didn’t have any control over them. They just hung out in the barn with me and strangers who thought I was in charge, they got treated well too.
I talked to the animals but don’t remember what I had to say. Had an accent, sort of a mishmash, not quite Irish or Scottish, Celtic yes but without roots. Part of the time I was inside my own head, other time I was removed, watching myself and the dream like an episode of Harry Potter. I looked the part, a lumpy old face hanging on the front of my head with gray hair scattered thick on the sides and sparse on top, like lightning just struck.
A car full of younger than me but not young enough to be young men stopped, inquired about my famous otters. Inside the barn they (otters) were acting like otters which the strangers enjoyed. We (people) made small talk. Talking was real enough but no script, no subject, no verbs, just mouthing words that wisp off before they could reach an ear. I could make out noise but never got to the end of a sentence.
It was a feel-good dream, a feel-good wakeup. I sensed when I reached to shut off the alarm that it was dark outside but the waking up had daylight spilling in through the slats on the blinds. It registered that the discrepancy was about me rather than the daylight. I remembered I was waking up in the donut hole, after my second Covid shot and before my immunity kicks in, feeling good about that.
‘Didn’t need the light on in the bathroom, the lumpy old face peering at me through the looking glass was the same old otter-meister from the dream. ‘Reached up, touched my nose and made a face, reality check. It was me after all, awake, no otters, no strangers come to see the otters, no stream just a blacktop street going down and around the corner.
Just enough coffee left in the pot for a swish around the mug. I could fall asleep again easy enough if I put my head down in a soft place but I need to move about, get my systems up and running. It’s a new day and you know what my mom said about the ‘New Day’. “It’s a blessing, do something with it.” Her religion died with her but blessings supersede Faith and denomination. Anybody can offer their blessing and however one perceives it, receives it, it is what it is. I am blessed here with a happy dream and a new day.
Don’t know where I lived but it was on water, a stream I would guess with a barn and woods. I was old and I had a herd of what must have been river otters that split their time between the water and my barn. We got along famously and people came by to see how we were doing. They (otters) would climb on me, eat from my hand but I didn’t have any control over them. They just hung out in the barn with me and strangers who thought I was in charge, they got treated well too.
I talked to the animals but don’t remember what I had to say. Had an accent, sort of a mishmash, not quite Irish or Scottish, Celtic yes but without roots. Part of the time I was inside my own head, other time I was removed, watching myself and the dream like an episode of Harry Potter. I looked the part, a lumpy old face hanging on the front of my head with gray hair scattered thick on the sides and sparse on top, like lightning just struck.
A car full of younger than me but not young enough to be young men stopped, inquired about my famous otters. Inside the barn they (otters) were acting like otters which the strangers enjoyed. We (people) made small talk. Talking was real enough but no script, no subject, no verbs, just mouthing words that wisp off before they could reach an ear. I could make out noise but never got to the end of a sentence.
It was a feel-good dream, a feel-good wakeup. I sensed when I reached to shut off the alarm that it was dark outside but the waking up had daylight spilling in through the slats on the blinds. It registered that the discrepancy was about me rather than the daylight. I remembered I was waking up in the donut hole, after my second Covid shot and before my immunity kicks in, feeling good about that.
‘Didn’t need the light on in the bathroom, the lumpy old face peering at me through the looking glass was the same old otter-meister from the dream. ‘Reached up, touched my nose and made a face, reality check. It was me after all, awake, no otters, no strangers come to see the otters, no stream just a blacktop street going down and around the corner.
Just enough coffee left in the pot for a swish around the mug. I could fall asleep again easy enough if I put my head down in a soft place but I need to move about, get my systems up and running. It’s a new day and you know what my mom said about the ‘New Day’. “It’s a blessing, do something with it.” Her religion died with her but blessings supersede Faith and denomination. Anybody can offer their blessing and however one perceives it, receives it, it is what it is. I am blessed here with a happy dream and a new day.
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