Oh, the nights flowed with wild, wild dreams. They remain vivid in memory, but I don’t want to walk through dreamland, just visit a little niche of it.

I needed to get home in a hurry. I was miles away. I decided that the best thing that I could do is run.

A light drizzle was falling. I started running beside the busy, winding two lane highway. At first, cars were passing me. Irritated, I pushed myself to go faster. “I can go faster than them,” I told myself, even though they were going thirty-five to forty miles an hour. Soon, I was keeping up with the cars. I saw people in the vehicles watching and recording my running with their cellphones.

Ahead was a large sweeper. I’d been running on the berm left of the white fog line. The berm and shoulder disappeared; there was a twenty-five foot drop-off. Looking ahead and thinking about it, I decided I had no choice. Reaching the drop-off, I dropped to the lower level like a video-game character, and kept running. I knew that the people in the cars were wondering what’d happened to me, and grinned as I ran up a slope back onto the berm when it returned.

By then, the road’s grade increased as we began ascending a mountain. I can’t keep up, I thought, and then rejected that. Believing I could, I pushed myself to go faster. The road’s speed limit had increased to fifty-five, but as I ran up the hill, I passed the cars. Grinning and sweating, I arrived home.

It wasn’t home, but Mom’s home, where I was visiting with family. My wife was there and we were in a hurry because I needed to make flight arrangements and leave. That’s another part of the dream, though.

I woke up thinking about all of this. It was five ten in the morning. A hungry cat had done his duty and made me get up to do my duty. As I fed him (and another), the dream replayed in my mind, and the Boomtown Rats began singing, “I Don’t Like Mondays”. I went back to bed, back to sleep, and on to other dreams.