I seldom remember dreams and those I do are not usually very interesting or related to things going on in my life.

There was a recent exception though . . . .

I found myself waiting for breakfast at an outdoor patio built out over the brink of a deep chasm something like the Grand Canyon in Arizona--one step out and a thousand feet down. Fancy place, white tablecloths, napkins, silver tableware, cut crystal glasses, and excellent coffee in bone china cups.

While I was sitting at a table waiting for my order to be served, a short blond guy in a tattered dark captain's uniform came out of the restaurant and began to abuse three young women at a nearby table, knocking one of them out of her chair and kicking her. There were people at other tables, but they studiously avoided even looking at the short guy beating up the women and did not object. For some reason the women were unable to fight back. It was clear in the dream that three murders were about to happen.

As I rose from my seat in an attempt to intervene, the short guy switched his attention away from the women and charged me. I dodged; he missed grabbing me and went over the edge.

Keith Henson