I was having such a nice dream this morning

July 27, 2014

I was skipping through deserted hometown streets,
the terrain hillier, the bricks redder than I remembered.
I found a steep and wooded incline sandwiched between
parking lots and chain link fences, loaded with meaning
and memories, all deja vu from forgotten dreams.
Sunburned by nightfall,
I walked a long while, chilly without a jacket,
to an impossibly narrow Victorian two-storey.
It was lonely, but a pleasant kind of lonely,
filled with the anticipation of getting high
at a party where I didn’t know anybody.

On the balcony, thinking I was totally alone,
I closed my eyes and levitated a few inches off the ground—
it’s so easy to do in my dreams that I take it for granted now—
and when I opened them, an attractive woman was staring at me.

“You’re that lady from the news,” I said;
but before she could reply,
“Your secret’s safe with me,”
I awoke with heavy legs.

I was having such a nice dream this morning.

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