Another Splendid Pot Roast, by Johann Lux

Friday evenings, I find myself at home, melting into a recliner, where I weed the workweek’s chaos out of my mind.

I inevitably surrender, first to sleep, then to a dream in which I’m floating like smoke toward a horizon that separates time from space. Below me, the face of every surface is smiling and I’m smiling back.

While drifting through herds of pearl-white clouds, a dreamy voice whispers, “You cannot stay here.”

A poke to center of my chest ends the dream.

I see my wife. She says, “Dinner.”

With a grin, I follow her to the dining room.


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