Picking up a few fallen apples as the tree in our back yard gives up its last few, I paused and marveled at the fall. Back inside, Janine asked if I had mowed away the tall weeks on the north edge of our lot. I responded I had, earlier in the summer.
After she made a comment about not getting to the north side of our lot as much as she’d like, that was that. I thought nothing of it.
Then, that night, I dreamed of tall weeds on the north edge of the lawn.
The dream was so real I went out the next morning, almost expecting to see the old weed fronds, but, naturally, they weren’t there.
Dreams are spooky when they are so real.