In the dream, I am reaching up through bare, thin branches
to touch the hand of a small child held aloft by her mother
who I do not know. The child and I smile at each other, it
feels familiar, but we are strangers, and that becomes clear
to me as we separate in a rain soaked parking lot and I am left
holding an overcoat missing the black chevrons of my lowly
rank on its collar.
to touch the hand of a small child held aloft by her mother
who I do not know. The child and I smile at each other, it
feels familiar, but we are strangers, and that becomes clear
to me as we separate in a rain soaked parking lot and I am left
holding an overcoat missing the black chevrons of my lowly
rank on its collar.
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