Twas terrifying last night. It was one in the morning and I wasn’t sleeping and was wandering around the internet looking for some deadly dry documentary to put me to sleep when I heard footsteps outside in the snow. Slow measured footsteps right outside the window. One Two Three Four. Who the hell would be walking and now standing right outside my window? They weren’t moving? They were right there. Have they come to kill me? Or steal my home-made chutneys? The snow creaked with their weight but they were staying firmly on the spot right outside the window. So I grabbed a bottle of perfume which I figured in a pinch would work as pepper spray for some reason and made my way over to the door to peek out. It was a deer. Magnificent in the light from the street. Shadowed blue and grey. Standing now in the driveway. They have not yet accepted that their home is now suburbia. They think all these driveways are paths in a forest of their imagination. I suppose they await the snow storm as well. So then I went to sleep and dreamed that I was walking with my late husband, my beloved George up and down the aisles of a Walmart or a Costco where all the packages on the shelves were grey, white or beige and there was no one else there and I got frustrated with him and said, “For heavenssakes George, we’re in a dream, we could be doing anything anywhere… Anything!” And he smiled and took my hand and we carried on walking up and down the aisles. And I had to smile with him. He always made me smile. And apparently still does. Peace Here Now.
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George must have been a very special man. And very lucky to have found you!
Who determines the quality of one’s sleep,.,
The contents of one’s dreams...?