"...Dreams"

I'm reading a book. One made of linen. It's pages it's leaves flutter in the breeze. It speaks to me this linen book. Telling not only the story within, but how it came to be.

How it was cut sewn stitched. How the words were so slowly, and carefully threaded together.

This book of cloth told me of it's inner life. About the lives the ways of all the books like her.

Then gone.

I enter another world in mid-sentence.

Friends. Three women friends of which I am one. In dreams you live whole lives in moments. I entered a world with life long friends about me.

I yearned to tell the 'secret' my great, and terrible secret.

What for them was a lifetime was for me a brief vision as I lay asleep.

We sat, and laughed at the foolish world. A world I was about to leave. Leave, and forget. This place, and my 'momentary' friends will vanish.

Leaving not dust.

I awaken with the fragments of lives on the tip of my tongue. Fragments which as the moments passed melt away.