This morning, I woke up briefly to snooze my alarm.
Then I fell into a deep deep sleep, and a deep deep dream.
I don’t remember anything but the last scene:
I have walked into a grocery store,
and there is my father.
Holding up a packaged chicken,
and smiling broadly.
I woke up, pleasantly confused.
Ten minutes later, I read about Israel’s deadly attack on the “Freedom Flotilla”
which was attempting to bring aid to Gaza.
On the morning of September 11th, 2001,
I had also fallen back asleep;
a deep deep sleep.
And I had also dreamt of my father then.
We were standing on the beach I grew up on.
We watched a plane fall out of the sky, into the lake.
He turned, smiling; looked at me and said:
“Well there’s something you don’t see everyday.”