I walk through the darkened living room.
It is dusk.
Oh look-out there on the deck–is a–what is it? Oh my goodness, it’s a 12-foot gorilla peering in the window!
It stares inside the house with a somewhat bemused expression. It is large, furry and definitely a gorilla, even though, really, do gorillas live in North America?
I am afraid, well, almost afraid. One should be afraid of gorillas, shouldn’t one? They might want to come inside, and that’s simply unacceptable. They might–well let’s not start telling stories of what might happen.
I blink and the gorilla disappears. You can hear children playing in the woods below. Oh no–innocent children! I must go outside and somehow warn them. I go out on the deck (oh silly person, don’t you know the gorilla might be poised on the roof ready to jump?) and see the children winding through the trees. They are our neighbors. They are carrying laundry baskets.
Suddenly I am by their side.
“Kids,” I say softly, “would you like a ride to the laundromat? There seems to be a rather large gorilla in the woods.”
The kids agree. We get in the car and drive up the road toward the laundromat and suddenly I am lying awake in bed.
No gorilla. No kids. No laundromat in the middle of the woods.
Only me, lying in bed, swatting mosquitoes and remembering this dream.
You had any strange dreams lately?
**Sorry not to provide any photographs of the gorilla. Never thought to take them in the dream. Please use your imagination and keep your eye open for furry 12-foot beasts.**