Running. A beautiful place to do it. Not because 'exercise is what we should do." but because it is good thing to get from one place to another and to be prepared to do it in the future.
It occurred to him that his handicap should have precluded this activity. No matter. What was the destination? The hospital, you know, close to those places of 'worship' belonging to disparate spiritual practices. And they, separated by a magnificent artifact whose banks he now navigated. In the glass that lay before him on one side, reflections of organic change resplendent …
So in a recent dream he was able to do this but … "it is happening, really happening. How can it be?", he thought. And when he awoke this time, the now familiar deep calm poured over him as direct sunshine peeking around a tree or something in the early morning hours. Both were dreams, but were they both … dreams?
She had been playing one of her instruments at the other end of the building. It was serendipitous accompaniment to his experience in the park. Appealing chords whose song he did not recognize. As he sat down beside her he saw some sheet music and its title. He could read the title and he knew that song. He had not made the association … yet.
The refrain went something like "between the memories and what could be is something of great value. It can be nurtured, and this is how you do it.". Odd that the day was beginning close to midnight. Perhaps not so much. Life is a song, everlasting ...
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