the mist

I wake up often grasping at the quickly dissipating strands of a good dream.
I temporarily only remember the feelings the dream gave me, then I lay very still and wait for the essence of the dream to drift back, only momentarily, so I can savour it a few moments longer.

My son has a hard time waking in the morning. When I am in the midst of rousing him, tiny hints of the dream he has been having slip out...don't charge the battery...why is the car in here?...It is very green...I am eating it.

Those little whispers that form the ebbing edges of his dreams get rapidly reabsorbed into the air. We inhale the tiny particles of each others' dreams and they get re-constituted each night.

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