Jamie’s Dream

“I dreamed I was eating a giant marshmallow.
And when I woke up, my pillow was gone.”

Last night’s final dream was brought to me by my eldest daughter, who’d organized a zealous and fierce troupe of Millennials to come to my place: part ground level home, like my old place, and part apartment, like this one. They spent some time sorting the basement, and putting stores of craft beer away.

Then with placards and signs, in puffy coats, and loose chestnut and salmon sweaters, beards and bangs, determined and forewarned of what awaited, they prepared.
They were planning a whole day of it.
They were taking back their universe.

I, bleary-eyed (still dreaming, mind you), was observing from a corner. and (after a tangle of words with my ex, who’d shown up to take part and said too much in my opinion), was deciding where to sit it out.

Those waiting on the porch got an earful and a taste of my-era radical from an interloper who’d heard there was a happening. He talked fast, like Yossarian from Catch 22, and brought leaflets that had alot to say about REVOLUTION and lacked punctuation. Oblivious to signs of irritation, procrastination, and eye-rolling from the kids (I’m sorry, “young adults”), he was all about saving-the-planet NOW.
They asked him to join them on the porch…

And then I woke up. Now I’ll light my candle.