I took a nap on the couch for the last five minutes before I had to leave for my Sunday shift at the library. I dreamed I was ice skating in Chicago, in Millennium Park. The dream re-played all the real events I saw and experienced when I used to skate on my lunch break. There was the silver fox in his cashmere coat, casually drifting in languid ovals. I saw the two guys who always skated together, competetively, to see who had the best aggro hockey moves. And last was the guy who would come on to me by executing a quick turn at my side and skate backward while smiling at me.
Then Matthew said, "You have five minutes to get to work," and all the ice and skates melted away, back to dream land.
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