(You thought I was going to say pie, didn’t you!)
When sleep came at last, there wasn’t much to say about it. And so no one did.
Some dreamed of colors, turquoise, gold, and pink, splashing across the lightlids.
Others dreamed of squirrels walking on hindlegs and menacing the postal carriers.
At least three had dreams of falling down stairs, while two others had dreams of falling up them.
On Wednesday, at least one child had a dream about a Hmmm, and someone’s grandmother dreamt of an Umm.
Many dreamed of a loud silence.
Some tortured few dreamed of speaking in front of N people. It didn’t matter what N was. The dream was still terrifying. The most terrifying one of all was the one where N equaled 0.
The majority dreamed of many things, but remembered nothing of it upon waking.
At least one person woke laughing. Three woke sobbing. Some number larger than seventeen awoke to find drool on their pillow. This had nothing to do with dreams.
Inside of a dream, less than eleven woke up, but didn’t realize they were still dreaming.
Three died in a dream, but were fine upon waking. One of these had never had such a refreshing night’s sleep.
I can’t remember how many dreamed of being born.
Some countless number dreamed of sex, in some fashion.
There was one who had a dream and recalled it perfectly for three minutes, until the cat jumped on the bed, and all was forgotten.
There were at least eight who vigorously practiced writing down their dreams. Seven of these never read them later. The last one was confused.
A fraction simply never dreamed at all. They did not suffer for it.
One dreamed of Borges’ Library of Babel and never woke again.
Just like that, everyone woke up.