#118 Abner's Dreaming

by Dallas Taylor

The New Psychedelic Church (Reformed) loomed across the alley, services held at all hours, the amplified guitar solos and steady four-four tempo laying the groove for Abner’s dreams growing up, dreams that were epic journeys of the mind across landscapes beyond imagining. It made the waking world seem dull by comparison.

As Abner grew older he held on to this habit of dreaming, and the waking world grew uncanny. Outwardly, he lived the simplest of lives. He worked, he ate, he slept. He married and fathered two daughters, who were pleased enough with his love, as was his wife. There was always some small feeling of absence to his presence, but since he had always been that way none of his loved ones felt any reason or right to object.

He grew older still. The girls grew into women, and began their own journeys. His wife passed peacefully of complications, and he held her hand and whispered in her ear that he would see her again soon, and so he did, for she was always with him when he dreamed. When his own time came, it was his hand being held, but he was still the one whispering, and when he passed he went gladly, for he knew what dreams might come, and welcomed them.