The Dreams

The dreams are always about mundane things.

You ask where we should go for lunch;
I say Phin's or Sam's Place,
knowing I can't decide,
but the dream takes us away from all that anyway.

I should take out the trash,
but our youngest daughter needs help with her homework
and that is more interesting.
I will do the trash in a minute or two
if the dream doesn't change again.

I am contemplating an apple on our orange cutting board.
The peeler is ready in my hand;
you say we can make a pie, but
--and this is the strange part--
in the dream, that is something
I have never known you to do.
I think about challah also
golden, golden,
and just before I wake up
I am suddenly happy.

November 19 2012