I've been having strange dreams.

This morning I was awakened at 6:40 a.m.
by what seemed to be the beam of a
flashlight scanning the room and the
sound of a raven's wings fluttering rapidly
just above my head on the bedstead.

Why can't I just wake up all dreamy
and snuggly like normal people?

I opened my eyes but the light and
bird were gone, thank goodness.

I thought perhaps someone was in
the house so I laid there and just
listened for awhile but I only heard
the heater.

Then I decided to get up and see
who had died because that’s what I
figured the raven's flapping sound meant.
Death.

Geesh! This solitary existence is
making me morbid!

Not that I'm known for my optimism
even in the best of times, but still!

Other people get away from their
spouses for a few weeks and have a
good time. Party on, Dude! Whoo-hoo!
Dancing with lampshades on their heads,
and all that.

But, Me? Oh, I'm having nightmares
and being visited by Edgar Allan Poe
symbols of death!

'Course on the other hand, maybe
it wasn't a raven. It was probably
a big, fat DO-DO BIRD!

Because I can tell you for sure that
The Man isn't having bad dreams.
He's just snoring away in dreamland,
happily skipping down the yellow brick
road with the Georgini twins, I betcha!