“The Christmas we get, we deserve” ~ Greg Lake

This time of year always makes me feel like my grandmother’s ghost is sitting over my shoulder. She left me no end of happy memories to live over in my dreams. It’s amazing how something so long ago can still wash over me completely. I wake up to the scent of her and her home.

I wonder lately if the complexity and clarity of my dreams is part of the reason I have no problem embracing a virtual lifestyle.

Mostly, I think I just miss her.

I Dreamed Of Christmas

I dreamed that I woke up
To find you baking
Apple spice and cinnamon
Red licorice smiles on gingerbread
Candy canes and Santa heads
I dreamed of Christmas, then

Orange-scented fingertips
Open scissors down curling ribbons
Sticky bows and to-from tags
Wrapping paper taped and folded
Sparking silver, glinting golden
I dreamed of Christmas, then

Cozy sweaters, cold red cheeks
Twinkling lights that bright the dark
Wreaths and trees exhaling pine
Garland boughs all swag and swing
Cidered throats warmed up to sing
I dreamed of Christmas, then

I dreamed that I woke up
To find you making
Coffee long before the dawn
A quiet moment in a long, loud day
And before it passed away
I dreamed of Christmas, yesterday

Your hands were always steady
When you handed me glass ornaments on metal hooks
I don’t think they ever shook

I dreamed that I wake up
To find you
And all the things we used to do
I dream about your eyes
And about your laughter
I still dream of Christmas
I still dream of you