Holiday Dreams

Last night, I had a dream. In this dream, it was late afternoon, the day before Christmas - almost Christmas eve.

Outside, a light, powdery snow was gently falling, leaving a soft, thin blanket which glistened in the blue glow of the approaching winter twilight. The once bustling streets were quiet - the stores and the banks and the businesses all having closed earlier in the day.

Inside, the lights of the Christmas tree cast colors and shadows over the otherwise dark living room as Christmas music played softly in the background.

I checked once more on the turkey and I checked the pans on top of the stove, turning the heat down on each to a low simmer. The scent of roasting turkey mingled with that of the tree - and together, they filled the house with a special kind of warmth.

Walking out of the kitchen, I passed through the dinning room, the table already set in anticipation of the coming meal. I walked into the living room, past the tree - stopping briefly to admire the ornaments - and then went over to rest on the couch for those final, brief moments - the moments before the approaching rush of getting dinner out of the kitchen and onto the dining room table.

With the music softly playing, I sat and watched as the occasional strand of tinsel swayed side to side in a dangling, slow motion dance under the glow of the colored lights.

And I sat - not thinking, only feeling.

And as I sat there, winding down, I slowly began to realize... I forgot to do any of my Christmas shopping.

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I've been feeling the residual panic from this dream all day long.