The Best Dream

I had a dream that Dara flew in to see me this Holiday Season. In it, we hung out, went to Newport, drove along the coast and stayed in a beautiful resort. When we woke up, we walked along the beach, watched the surfers ride waves and watched the narcissistic man do yoga. We saw five thousand seagulls fly towards us, and when we finished covering our heads, we caught the beauty of the landscape and I kissed you.

Then the dream got surreal.

We drove back along the coast and just spent hours together in the car before we got home and settled down for a Christmas-Eve rest, with a Yule Log floating in the fireplace. Next morning, we watched four kids’ excitement as they tore through wrapping paper like a tsunami of energy and when we were done, six piles of presents were extent.

My dream was so detailed because I remember eating Christmas dinner, kissing her goodnight when she went to bed, and waking her up in the morning again. I remember her smile with lucid clarity; her kiss, an unambiguous blend of softness and familiarity that brings me home every time.

Thank you for my dream weekend, Dara. I’ll see you tonight in my dreams.

And to everyone else, I wish a Merry Christmas and a Happy Hanukkah.