Easing into my Sunday morning while sipping java, reading blogs, news, and responding to emails from my pal, I was listening to my streaming customized Sunday morning mix. Most of the tunes were familiar, if not lyrically certainly harmonically. Tunes lending themselves to humming.
Suddenly, I heard something that just seared through me.
I'd heard it before, I must have because I'd given it a thumbs up. But, I don't know that I'd heard it before Sunday.
. . . and since Sunday morning, I can't stop dreaming.
Once we were lovers
One night there were several dreams. Snippets, not very lucid. Not at all linear.
What came between us?
One night there were Planes. Trains. Automobiles. And ships? Seriously?
and sometimes at night I think I hear you calling me name
She was there. But, so too were a few of my female friends. Sometimes we were all talking, laughing. Other times we were . . . well, not. Not like an orgy. Each separate. Distinct. An event. We were always caught. We were always chagrined. We always cried and then we had wine.
Clearly, I'm lonely. But, it isn't present daily. I'm sad, but that too is fleeting. Most days I'm ok and parts of some days, I'm happy, cheerful, even. Still, I am missing. You know, the fall out of a loverly pairing is . . . well, there are songs that say it well.
. . .these dreams, they keep me going these days.
Jim Croce, These Dreams