When I was a boy about 5 years old, every day my mother had me walk to the corner store to get her a pack of Chesterfield cigarettes. The lady who owned the store always asked if these were for my mother, which they were for her.
On the way I passed a house that had grape vines that went down the driveway. In summer, I would stop and fill up on the owner's grapes before getting to the store.
By doing that every day, I would have dreams about that every night. In the dreams, I would find money all along my way to the store. Even better, in the dreams I could run a few steps and fly for several feet before landing. There is something special about flying in dreams; they are the best dreams of all.
Now on occasion my dreams are quite different. In the dreams I am fighting someone to save my life. Those dreams always end badly when I end up on the floor before I wake up. I have made it a point to have 3 feet open on either side of my bed. I learned that when I had a lamp beside my bed. The lamp had sharp edges on four corners. When I went crashing out of bed, I sliced a three inch gash across my forehead.
Life is not easy when you get old.
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