Opening my eyes I become awake. 

 

You know the feeling.

 

It’s as if you’re laying doormat in your body. 

 

Suddenly, but very calmly – you open your eyes and become aware of your surroundings, at least some of them.

 

The temperature is comfortable.

 

You feel neither hot nor cold – but just right!

 

That last thought reminds you of a fairytale – from your past, but declining your brain, and its invitation ‘to go there,’ - you instead, wonder about the time.

 

Go figure.

 

Then you notice a dream you had last night, it’s been drifting around in your head since you awoke, but now it’s beginning to mingle with your newfound consciousness; it was erotic in nature, that you’re sure of, but as to who was starring (in it) you have no clue, except of course – yourself.

 

Trying as hard as you can, you try to capture it before it disappears – which it does almost as you think the thought, and the next instant brings nothing but the smell of coffee brewing somewhere.

 

Your focus is suddenly on the window, remembering where you’re going, but of course, not where you are.

 

1937?

 

Why would one want to go anywhere other than home?

 

Where is home if not the present?

 

Why did you choose 1937, and furthermore, what do you know about 1937?

 

With its sometimes machine-gun action – the brain can overwhelm.

 

The window?

 

The window that was dark just seconds a go (or so it seems) is now bright with green, tree filled terrain, and a haunting hint of mountains to come. 

 

Searching with eyes still edged with sleep, I’m reminded of a morning in Colorado just last year, but this morning, I see nothing to indicate where I might be.

 

However, I am very aware of where I am in my life.

 

Having safely reached my sixth decade; I am no further along than ever.

 

Still cozy with things material – while looking to answer long held questions, I feel a particular kinship with the unknown.

 

It’s then - I hear rustling from above.

 

The next second in time directs me - back to the window.

 

Something has caused me to look that way.

 

We are approaching a bend in the road, and on the other side, I have the hokey feeling that I’m sensing something rather than seeing it.

 

Then…. A loud knocking on our door.

 

Joyce:  Don’t you think that ending is a little hokey itself?

 

Ray:  Sure, but that’s what happened.

 

Joyce:  Maybe you should change it anyway; you know you’re   going to get hit with the ‘cliff-hanger’ thing again.

 

Ray:  Of course, but it doesn’t matter, for that’s what really happened; what would you have me to do – make up something?

 

Joyce:  this whole thing is made up.

 

Ray: what?  The story - or life?

 

Joyce:  Nope. I’m not going there this morning; do you want a cup of coffee? 

 

Ray:  I did smell coffee now didn’t I?

 

Joyce:  so.. You smelled coffee; what’s so unusual about that?

 

Ray: Cause…. I smelled it before. 

 

Joyce:  I’ll take your word for it.

 

Ray:  Shortly after that I heard ‘rustling’ – which was you waking up.

 

Joyce: Yeah, I remember now, I heard you in the chair ruminating about where you were in your life.

 

Ray:  Really? I think I’ll take that coffee now.

 

Joyce:  Why don’t you get the door - while I get the coffee?

 

Ray:  I can do that; wonder who’s there anyway?

 

Joyce:  Oh you can’t ever tell – now can you?