It was an orange daylight, cascading across a coffee shop he was unfamiliar with. Whenever he looked around, he recognized people from his life. On one side sat a woman he loved, blond, hair flowing across the back of a couch – but she was not alone, and he did not know who she was with – but that did not disturb him. At the bar, he saw another woman he loved, her secret safe in the crowd as she chatted away and laughed as only a Dutch speaking woman could. Another blond woman sat at the other side of the bar, catching his eye she smiles and waves.

He waves back. He's not quite sure how he got here. He's not quite sure what he's doing here, but here he is. He orders a triple espresso as he used to, recognizing the woman who serves it as a failed date from a Son Volt concert – but who remained a friend. There sits Heather, the shy girl in college, and over there is the woman he always wished he had spoken to. And over there, and over there, and...

He now sees the men, recognizing a Professor from his days in college, a Doctor from his days in the Navy, the sane ex-boxer turned 12 string guitarist at coffee shops, the Apache roommate, the midnight bong engineer of the old gang and so many others. So many others.

The blond with the Colombian accent comes over, gives him a hug and walks back to where she sits. He walks over, nodding at the man next to her.

'Hi. So you're with her now?'
'I think so. I'm not sure.'
'She's a good woman.'
'I think so. I'm not sure.'
'She can be a little strange.'
'I think so. I'm not sure.'
'Get sure.' { Read more }

In a dream, a man encounters his Uncle - an Uncle who had a dream of building something and growing things. And in this dream, the Uncle comes to him because those he left behind did not follow the dream. Standing on the earth near the pond where his once living body sat on a swing, they walk over to the place a house is being planned, not far away.

The man tells his dream to his Uncle, of building not far from where the Uncle planned of building. Of growing not far from where the Uncle planned of growing. The Uncle lays down, his face embracing the ground, and he sleeps. And he melts into the earth without a word, but he really seems to melt into the dream being spoken. He is gone. He is at rest. Or the part of the nephew which is the Uncle now rests. { Read more }

This is a dream.

Staring at a sunset on a beach, the water laps at the feet - the eddies as they pass around the heel move the sand, the heels sink. A coffee cup keeps you company, its familiar weight comfortable in the left hand. The wind blows through your hair, the salt breeze sticky upon your skin, the sea breeze scent surrounds.

The sun, in its infinite wisdom, falls below the horizon. Turning around, you view the dark silhouettes and the reflection of the moon off the microcosms of broken shells, reminders that the sea is old. It is smooth but... there, you see footprints above the shoreline, someone having walked along the shore past you even as the sun began its respite. { Read more }