something I think I saw in a dream

A strong coffee on an unusually sunny morning in fall

Usually it's raining, so I take the chance to sit outside of the cafe on a little garden chair, a croissant set on the lopsided table in front of me. It's warm so I don't have to bundle up yet, that perfect time of year when you can still wear tank tops as orange leaves dance past you in the streets. A light breeze tousles my hair over my shoulder and I send a wave and warm smile to a group of elderly women I play cards with on Tuesdays

I don't have to work today so I wander down to the beach and read. Watching families on vacation play in the water, children shriek and race away from the waves crashing into the shore. I listen to the birds call and the blow of ships horns until the sun descends. Traversing my yellow bike with the basket over the bumpy cobblestone streets I stop at the local market to pick up ingredients for dinner. The shop keeper greets me like family and slips me a home-brewed bottle of red, I cary it gingerly with the brown paper bag tucked under my arm up to my second story apartment, I'm pretentious so I always call it a flat.

Its small, the perfect size for me and a dog and a cat that comes and goes as it pleases. I collect post cards and magnets and theres a mantle over a boarded up fireplace that displays all the letters, holiday and birthday cards my friends and family have written me over the years. White linen sheets, blue paisley table cloths and I finally hemmed those lace curtains I was always meaning to. It's littered with plants and sun catchers and lamps with warm lights so no matter rain or shine it feels like a cozy corner of my favourite music shop. A bookshelf, that I built myself has a collection of books, and I only ever read fiction and mysteries now that there’s no pressure to be overtly smart and well read. And as self serving as it is, theres a whole shelf where I keep copies of my own publications, maybe

I wasn’t a CEO, there was no feature in Forbes or Rolling stone. I’m not a millionaire, with 12 classic cars and a mansion. I wasn’t lighting up the silver screen or being drenched in the limelight of screaming fans and record deals.

Maybe the dream was smaller than everyone else’s, there were no bizarre twists or far fetched affairs. But it felt so prophetic.

And maybe someone I love was there with me in the other room, or maybe I didn’t know anyone that I used to or do now, however dreams work with that kind of thing.

But no matter what, it was a good subconsciously derived entertainment during my REM cycle, a peek into a life where I get to make all my own decisions and I stand up straight, smile and I really mean it, because I am happy.

From Nov 12, 2022