Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Fifty-four

I don’t usually remember my dreams any more, but this morning I woke with a clear memory of last night’s dream.

In it I was in my office again, or an office.  The place was a combination of every place I’ve ever worked in, and the people in it all the people I’ve ever worked with.

They were as tall as I, but the proportions of their bodies were those of pre-adolescent children. And they were all adorable.

Nothing got done, of course, because they were only playing at doing work, not actually working. Even so they waited eagerly for the day to end, and dashed out the door at five o’clock.

I’ve always known in my dreams that I was dreaming, and what the dream meant, so I remembered them fondly as I watched them run. I was grateful to them. I had pretended to be one of them, and they had pretended to believe me.

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