My Lucid Dream

Often I wake in the middle of the night to the aroma of fresh coffee brewing. I arise and stagger aimlessly down the hall toward this pleasant memory and turn the dim kitchen light on. The aroma still lingers as I see you sitting there, smiling and inviting me to sit down beside you. I grab my favorite coffee mug and reach for the coffee pot as I turn to look at you. Now once again the coffee pot is cold, the aroma dissipates and you are not there in your chair. Duped again. I wipe my face and push my hair back, tighten my robe and start back down the hall toward the bedroom. Is this a fantasy or a dream? A ghost of you or an illusion? I don’t know. All I know is I look forward to awakening to the coffee smell, walking down the hall in anticipation of seeing you once again. Regardless of the heart wrenching outcome, let it be again and again.