His sleep story came in vivid color on a dark
winter’s night.
Ancient in years, he lay alone
in his rickety bed clutching his only pillow
which, like him, was stained and creased from
time’s cruel assault. He knew his remaining days
were waning, the constant clock ticking them away,
but loneliness and age robbed any concern.
Sinking his head into the crusty pillow, sleep
conquered the old man in no time, the dream following
close behind, capturing his psyche, holding his
mind at ransom. Swiftly, the dream carried him
off to see the world even with eyes tightly
shut, his sleepy unawareness transformed to
conscious thought without his awakening.
In minutes he saw what he had never seen in all his
abundant years: people of all colors, creeds, and religions
living side by side in peace and harmony. He saw
nothing remained of war, hunger, disease, or crime
but bitter memories. Awake now, he refocused on
reality, indifferent once again his days were few.
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