*I’m coming to from flu state. No pool of sweat, although I think it fitting. Reduced and raised to writing in my dreams again. This one suggests a kind of competition.
*I’m shopping at Smith’s Market Place. This is a strange unity. My husband pushes a loaded cart toward the check out. I cannot eat his chips, cookies, soda. Set off to find some grapes and things more wholesome in organic.
*In this I notice employees restocking quickly. They are putting things away, announcing store closure, counting registers. It’s nine o’clock. Strange, this is a twenty-four hour establishment.
*I skip the isles, a half-empty whip cream can in hand. It’s not cold like the refrigerated cooler it came from. Makes me wonder if I’ve been eating it the whole time I’ve been playing at shopping.
*I see employees dressed not in customary red Smiths shirts, but rather semi-formal church clothes. They are talking sadly under their breath. They are leaving in a hurry with panicked looks as if in fear of getting overtime. They are hanging onto jobs by a desperate thread.
*I find the scrumptious berries. They are few and very expensive. I look to find the ones not rotten. I want them, but decide against the purchase. Dash to the front.
*I wonder what has brought the store this urgency. Has global competition forced the panic? Has Walmart conglomerate built a bigger Monopoly? Threatened to buy a beloved, already too big remodeled fixture?
*As quickly as I type this phantom, Common Core and education reform appear before me. My hands slow to home row. Hold the keyboard tightly. Decide to let it go in drifting back to sleep. I’ll find another dream just for the weekend.
Ha ha…only went over by about 20 words. This is no Lincoln. More a driftwood dreamer political piece. Spell check says I misspelled Walmart but there are no suggestions. 🙂