Dare I Dream?

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Day #8
I had a dream last night!

I suppose that’s a silly proclamation to make. After all, we all dream. We all drift off into an abyss of subconscious thought and play out scenes from the day. Or we create worlds that are vastly different from the one we walk in each day. We can fly. We’re super spies. We’re singers or musicians we’re and packing the house at Madison Square Garden. Or, like me last night…we dare to dream about the future.

In my dream, I awoke as I always do, naturally and without the banshee like shriek of an alarm clock. The light in the room came from the outside. It was morning…but not a sunny one. It was light certainly, but a grey light, and overcast light and I heard taps against the roof and a sound reminiscent of bacon sizzling in a pan. It was raining. I was neither happy, nor sad. I was in that state most of us are in when we wake up where we contemplate rolling over for 10 more minutes for a few more winks only to be met with a devastating truth…our conscious mind is also awake and it has something to say.

I rolled over anyway because I needed to kiss my wife. I did that every morning you see and today would be no different. I brushed the hair from her face and gently caressed her cheek. Her skin was the softest thing I’d come to know. Smooth and warm…almost angelic. She made me weak in the knees yet filled me with an inner strength that I never thought I could possess. Without her, my world was lifeless. Without her, my world had no rhythm, no heartbeat, no soul…no joy. And that is why I kissed her every morning before I went to work. Whether she was awake or not.

I moved to the edge of the bed after kissing my bride and tucking her in and slowly stood up as my knees reminded me that I was in fact 40 years old. Not simply 40 though, because my best friends were 40 and over and they would just now be returning from 5 mile runs as I awakened. No, I was MY 40 years old. A hard 40 years old. An out of shape, drive to the gym and don’t go in because I can’t find a suitable parking space kind of 40 years old.

I needed to wipe that thought away though, and get my day going. I didn’t want to be late for work.

I walked to my window and looked outside. The park across the street from my condo was empty. No children playing in the early morning hours waiting for the school bus. Just rain and the light rumble of thunder. rainyday

I stepped into my slippers and walked downstairs to the kitchen. I remember being excited to make coffee because I it would be the first time I’d get to use my Keurig coffee maker. My past attempts had making coffee had been…well…not my finest hour. The bad news was, it wasn’t ingestible. The good news was, I was able to use it to seal up a leak or two at the base of my garage. As birthday presents went…my wife had knocked it out of the park on this one.

I grabbed a cup and started my French Vanilla Cappuccino and waited patiently as I realized I was running late for work.

While I waited, I turned the TV on in the kitchen to check the weather, the sports, and the traffic as I always did. The news was typically too depressing for me and this morning news team, well…they…I don’t know…at least they read the teleprompter well. I turned to Mike & Mike after getting the information I needed and waited for my coffee to finish brewing. The first commercial was coming up, and Greenberg did it again. A teaser. Something about Peyton Manning was coming up after the break. I wanted to stay and listen, but I had to get to work. I was screaming inside. Why does he do this to me all the time? Damn you!

I couldn’t stay though. I’d just have to try and look it up on ESPN later in the day. I poured my coffee and took a sip. That first wave of sweet liquid heat rolled across my tongue and I could swear I was on Mount Olympus with the rest of the Gods enjoying Ambrosia. A kiss for my wife, a thunderstorm, and a cup of coffee to start the day. Work was going to be good today.

I walked out of the kitchen and through the living room into my office. I sat at my desk, turned on my laptop and clicked the Pandora icon. I pressed the button for David Sanborn radio and listened as his version of Harlem Nocturne began. Another sip of my coffee. Another click of the mouse. And I was ready to start my work day…

writeratwork

Chapter 22…

writeratwork2

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About My PoeticJustus

Look, I'll be honest. These "about me" sections drive me nuts. Basically because I'm awful at self promotion. Ok, not so much awful as, uncertain. I mean, what do I say? How much do I share? Do people really care? Here's what I'll do. I'll share some info and you can just decide what you like and what you don't. Deal? Cool!! So, I am Chicago born writer moonlighting as a mental health professional. Now, my paycheck and bank account would tell you that the opposite is true. But in my heart, I'm a writer. I have a few characters that I am very passionate about and some stories to tell and in between there, I have thoughts to share. Some are serious, some are funny...ok...most are funny. Nothing brings me more joy than stirring up the pot, pointing out hypocrisy, and getting people to think outside the box and challenge their long held beliefs. I don't want to change your mind or your habits...just think of me as the Devil's Advocate. So hey! Sit back, take a read, and feel free to let me know what you think. See ya around cyberspace!! Dennis
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