REALITY?: And Dreams

The Dream:  I wake to Jim coughing hard, slip out of bed and squeeze from a tube several translucent strips of medicine.   They are the diameter of toothpaste, violet blue with glitter suspended within.  I bring them back into the bedroom in a little pile in my hand, kneel by his bedside and give him one.  He is miraculously cured.

The Reality:  I wake to Jim coughing hard.  He slips out of bed and closes the door, says "I don’t want to keep you awake."  I wiggle over to his warm side of the bed, and holler out, "There’s Nyquil in the cabinet," and fall back to sleep.

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