...
I was in some kind of boarding house, or combination hostel and motel, and I was hiding all kinds of contraband under the covers of my bed. I was desperate not to be caught, and kept hiding more contraband, but had no idea what flavor illegalities I had perpetrated.
My sister was there, kept popping up in an aura of contempt that was telling me she was getting the police to haul me off the second she got her scrap of proof. I was then working my butt off to shed the contraband of still baffling origins as fast as ever I could... bindles of things, even my prescription chill pills, gold ingots, money, all the lumpy stuff under that too thin sheet.
I heard myself telling my friend Trisha that Ellie, her daughter, was pregnant.
Then I made my exit, out a dirt road to the woods. Ellie, who got married a little over a year ago, was strolling around in a golden green meadow, wearing my giant alpaca sweater, and pregnant. I was waving to her with love. She piped up with some sort of smart ass millennial utterance of good riddance.
This woke me up thirty seconds before sunrise.
This was me making a break from the relative to the absolute.
pipe up any time....
