The dreams have started. The first few nights after the terrorist attack held blissful, dreamless sleep. Last night, current events crept in.
But the dreams weren’t nightmares, exactly. In one dream, I was training as a spy. Part of the course was learning to compose coded messages in poetry while swimming. In another dream, there was a relief benefit concert. The Bee Gees were on stage.
I woke briefly then, as Tod came to bed. “Why are the Bee Gees playing a benefit concert in my dream?” I mumbled to him. His answer was succinct. “Stayin’ Alive.”
