War

Morning.

I'm emerging from a dream.

The cat jumps over me, onto me, into my arms,

happy because the change in the rhythm of my breathing translates to a full food bowl,

but my thoughts are filled with fresh memories and in my auditory cortex there is still ringing of the Grandson's interpretation of the Haile Selassie's address to the United Nations in 1963.

In the dream, I remember... that I am aware it is a dream and I'm letting the dream flow, for hours! Dream - that ersatz life, un-real, un-actual, but I WANT it to flow and I permit it for my thoughts and my arms and my heart.

In a dream,

I encounter him again after a long time, in the circumstances no less unpleasant and prickly than reality, with all his wonderful flamboyant uniqueness

And silence.

In the dream there is no silence, in the dream there is civility and cooperation,

No differences to patch, just the open undeclared partnership;

“We do what we must because we can”

and it is hard to overstate my satisfaction.

It is strange and magnificent

How much a person can be made happy by means of one's own neural substrate,

And stranger and more magnificent still

To see memories create new memories. 

Photo source here.