No new poem today. Just going to enjoy the holiday with family and I hope you all get to do the same.
Last night I dreamed that a friend of mine decided that I should die to prove his theories about reincarnation. I was in the middle of telling him not to do it, when he pulled out a gun and shot me in the head.
Last night I dreamed that a friend of mine decided that I should die to prove his theories about reincarnation. I was in the middle of telling him not to do it, when he pulled out a gun and shot me in the head.
Everything went dark. I felt like I was floating.
Then (still dreaming), I opened my eyes and saw I was laying in bed in a new body. I remembered being relieved that my friend was right, but the relief was short-lived. My friend had shot me after all, and the world I woke up in was not the one I'd left. I wondered if my wife and my sons were somewhere mourning my death and if they even existed in this new world.
At the peak of my dream-self's crisis, I woke up for real.
Betrayed by a friend, and then born again. Seems appropriate for the holiday.
Be good to each other.
~MS
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