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Dreams

Gates, Dreams, and Feral Chickens

Suddenly, I awoke from a dream: I look through my sheer living room curtains. Barry’s BMW and my Hyundai sit side by side in the darkened garage. The streetlight shining in front of our house illuminates a man between our cars walking toward our house. He doesn’t look threatening. I don’t know him. I’d recognize…

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Follow Your Dreams

Dreams are today’s answers to tomorrow’s questions. –Edgar Cayce Did you ever dream about insignificant things that actually happened later?  I once dreamed that a plastic planter hanging from a tree outside my window broke and the plant inside it splattered on the ground. The next morning, the planter fell.  Sometimes, I wake up from…

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My Last Valentine

Barry’s nickname, Ashtar the Magnificent, came about because of his psychic—he called it psycho—ability. I only had to be in the same room with him to feel better.  I wrote briefly about falling in love with my partner Barry 13 years after Vic died (a coworker hunk I’d secretly been in love with), toward the…

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An Epiphany on Epiphany

Living in the countryside of central Spain in the early sixties felt magical for 8-year-old me. I still remember our home address: Patrocinio (he who gives his protection), Gomez (man) Tres (three), Canillejas (a region 5 miles northeast of Madrid). Although roving bands of gypsies traveled in tattered wagons through the countryside, these fast-change artists…

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The First Christmas Tree

Barry and I are visiting Barry’s 97-year-old mother Rosalani (Lani for short) for a few months. She is a charming, educated woman who was a gifted writer in her younger years. I brought my little Christmas tree from our home for Lani to enjoy. She liked it except for the blinking tree lights. “The tree…

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