I dreamed last night that I was on a ski trip with friends, and I bumped into an old schoolmate.  We were enjoying cinnamon bread and drinking beers.  Strange and beautiful women would either sit up close to me, on my lap or walk into my room unexpectedly, but they were always looking for others or speaking to others.  I was happy to be there, though.  They all knew me, and I knew them.  My friends and I decided to extend our trip to three days from two days.  No problem.  More cinnamon bread, beer and laughter and being with those who knew me.

I published a poem yesterday, and I was happy.  It was a small honor, nothing like starring in a movie that becomes a cult classic.  That would thrill me too, but it would involve many people that I didn’t know.  Small honors among people who know me are good, maybe even better. 

It’s morning, I’m still in bed, and I’m awake now, but I think I’ll treat myself to cinnamon bread and a beer.  I’m known and I’m happy.


by S.A. Bort / 3 August 2013