Resightings

I dreamt that I walked the streets of the oldest of cities, and I was going to die, and I saw them all, one by one, and they were bidding me goodbye. I dreamt that Harlan Ellison smiled as I dreamt something a lot like one of his dreams but thankfully was not exactly that.

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I looked into her eyes and she looked into mine. I saw a fleet of ships, she saw a career calling.

I looked into another pair of eyes and they looked into mine. I saw a house of many doors, she saw many corridors.

I looked. There were five handsome children, one named Cassandra.

I looked and there was a cold winter and a warm return.

I turned the corner, and her hand was on my shoulder and I understood that I was forgiven.

I crossed the street, and this time she stopped and said farewell.

It sank in that I was going on a long journey, and she told me what to pack, having been there before.

The streets began to peter out, from large thoroughfares to narrow ones, where she smiled from her bookshop.

She was the ninth, and she danced but nobody knew it.

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I woke up, and I realised that all of it was a dream. But it was nice to know that things turned out the way they did. One can't help dreaming of what might have been, but one can continue to trust that what is, is good.