Sweet Dreams of You

Recalling my dreams is unusual for me.

In fact, I generally awake certain for sure I did not have a dream.

I am told that that is not possible. People dream, I hear.

The other morning I awoke to the end of a dream, disappointed that Burt was not sitting next to me.

The dream was, in fact, deeply vivid. Burt and I went out for a drive.

I parked the car, a two-tone late ’50s era Plymouth, grey or dark blue and white, in a garage.

We went to sit in a gazebo, where we talked quietly, as we often did. Burt’s seat was a big wicker chair. There were others in the gazebo.

When we felt chilly, we decided to go back to the car. Burt said “we’re taking this plant stand with us” I said okay, as long as we don’t get caught.

It was clear in this dream that Burt was right by my side, close by on a cushy chair to my left.

Then I awoke, and he was not next to me. The dream gave me the expectation of finding him by my side, just on my left shoulder.

That realization that he was not was a moment of great shock, like having ice water hit me in the face.

It was, also, so very nice spending a little time with Burt while I dreamt of him. Even the memory of my dream, of my dreaming makes me smile now.

That was a sweet dream.