Dreams

When I went to bed last night, Memphis, Tennessee was the farthest thing from my mind. After pulling the covers up around my neck and beginning the first coughing fit, the down-filled comforter was not comforting but rather hot–as in heat hot.

I got up, used the big green monster we thought was such a neat color in 1962, and fumbled around in the dark looking for a cough drop. The selection was awesome–Halls more like candy; or, something stuck to a wrapper I had to bite through, to get open. It took both to stop the cough and one or the other made me realize this was the NCAA playoff–Memphis against Kansas.

So I sat in the recliner and dozed through the first half of this important basketball game and went back to bed when Memphis was behind.


I had a dream last night. Maybe it was the cough drops. I dreamed the most beautiful dream. I was a fabulous person and a professional photographer and people swooned at the sight of me with my camera.

Everywhere I went dogs and kids followed me around and when I stopped they posed. I could turn, point my beautiful camera and shoot and the photos were instantly snapped- up by Time Magazine, People Magazine and the UK’s very own Daily Mail and Daily Mirror.

Rich ladies, whose garages were filled with Bentleys and Lamborghinis, had agents steal me off the street, with my camera, and set me up in mansions to make pictures of their daughters.

I walked into kitchens and saw young ladies, with toast in one hand and a glass of milk in the other and I pointed my beautiful camera and pressed the shutter and out came glamour magazine shots of models wearing jaunty hats with wide yellow ribbons; and pouting lips with Mona Lisa smile. In one hand a $10,000.00 bill and in the other a contract edged in gold.

Memphis lost.