I wake from this dream with a heaviness,

something other than the sinus headache

that keeps hanging on from one day

to another to another.

In it, I am sitting in the back seat

of a car that one of my sons is driving

even though he, too,

is sitting in the back seat.

Randa and a young woman I don’t know

are sitting in the front

but Ben is holding the steering wheel

and sitting in the back seat.

He veers from side to side

of a narrow road with no traffic,

each time coming just a bit closer

to the edge where the shoulder falls away.

He insists that he is driving just fine

and that there is nothing wrong

with his seeing or his steering,

veers again, mid-sentence.

I sit on the edge of the bed,

awake and wondering

whether this is fear

or prophecy

or just another serving

of that strange subconscious soup

stirred up by supper and TV,

ancient memories and a recent visit.

I’m not sure that every dream has meaning

nor that every vision is intended for reality.

But I do believe that there is such a thing

as premonition.

I will pray now

and call Ben later.

But not

much later.

H. Arnett

3/29/11