Dreams By Abraham Lincoln

My grandson, Noah, came to visit yesterday. He is not a contortionist but he can do things with his body that sends me to the medicine cabinet. He can twist-up into positions that straight jacket manufacturer’s envy. He reads a manual on vacation houses and uses his toe to keep the pages open, and he can, if he chooses, use his other hand, freed by the toe, to scratch an ear.

When I went to bed last night, Memphis, Tennessee was the farthest thing from my mind. After pulling the covers up around my neck and beginning the first coughing fit, the down-filled comforter was not comforting but rather hot — as in heat — hot.

I got up, used the big green monster we thought was such a neat color in 1962, and fumbled around in the dark looking for a cough drop. The selection was awesome — Halls more like candy; or, something stuck to a wrapper I had to bite through, to get open. It took both to stop the cough and one or the other made me realize this was the NCAA playoff–Memphis against Kansas.



So I sat in the recliner and dozed through the first half of this important basketball game and went back to bed when Memphis was behind.

I also had a dream last night. Maybe it was the cough drops. I dreamed the most beautiful dream. Just imagine: I was a fabulous person and a professional photographer and people swooned at the sight of me with my camera.

Everywhere I went dogs and kids followed me around and when I stopped they posed. I could turn, point my beautiful camera and shoot and the photos were instantly snapped- up by Time Magazine, People Magazine and the UK’s very own Daily Mail and Daily Mirror.

Rich ladies, whose garages were filled with Bentleys and Lamborghinis, had agents steal me off the street, with my camera, and set me up in mansions to make pictures of their daughters.

I walked into kitchens and saw young ladies, with toast in one hand and a glass of milk in the other and I pointed my beautiful camera and pressed the shutter and out came glamor magazine shots of models wearing jaunty hats with wide yellow ribbons; and pouting lips with Mona Lisa smiles. Their mommas swooned looking at the pictures and stuffed crisp $10,000.00 bills into my shorts and hung the keys to a Smart car on my ear.

My apologies for being late posting this morning. I spent an hour doing a search in Google for a camera like those in my dream—without any luck.

Oh. And, Memphis lost.