The Climb (a dream)

Your name was my first thought this morning as I rose. I was filled with remembrance of my dream--so strong and tense, but not bad or unwelcome.

We had risen together, and wandered around the old city (which? I do not know. But it was familiar, grey, and old--like a tourist photograph of an untouched medieval town). You wanted to start the climb, but I held back.

Finally our number was called (we had a number, C9), and we joined our starting group. We were right up front, at the foot of the steep hill. The crowds in front of us began, like at a marathon. We waited, expectant, holding hands, I think (or is that a daylight wish embellishing my stark dream?).

I woke as we took our first step, my thoughts full of you.

But, upon reflection in the cold morning light, I realized that I was not I, and you were not you. I clenched my jaw, and rose for the day.