Life Is But A Dream

Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.

Nothing is as it seems.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.

There has been a surreal quality to the day...as if the morning seems very far away. It began with the sky a sea of rolling grey waves, the growling voice of thunder muffled beneath the clouds. Now, in the late afternoon, as I raise the window shades in our kitchen, the light surprises me, and I wonder where I have been. I don't mean that I can't remember where I have actually been, because I do. I know that I have been at home. I've observed my fingers as they tap along the keys on my laptop, and I've watched my hands quickly folding laundry, piling it in stacks to put away. I've seen my mouth moving as I speak, listening to my words as if they are coming from a great distance. Sometimes in the middle of my life, I feel as if I'm in a dream, and then I awaken, but it is okay, and I'm safely inside the normalcy of daily living. I'm always grateful to return. It is his absence that pulls me back, as the hollow sound of the door gently closes behind him.