To sleep, perchance to
dream, ay there's the rub.
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause; there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
Bill said he couldnt wait to tell me about his
dream from the other night.
It started he said, inside his parents house in
Queens, where he grew up,
and where he still visits his mother every few weeks. The
first thing Bill noticed
in his dream was that the interior was bigger, about
twice the size he knows it
to be. He found himself sitting in the living room, on a
couch next to his father.
Immediately he saw that his father was very young, in his
early forties. "Thats odd," he thought.
He looked around the
room and saw that he was with his mother and brother as
although they were on the other side of this now very
Checking himself over, he understood that he had not
still in his early fifties, still wearing a beard. One
was definitely out of place and he felt compelled to tell
father about it.
Turning to his father, he cupped his hand around his
whispered, so that his mother and brother would not
"Dad," he whispered, " Youre dead.
You died in 1993. And actually,
Dad, I almost died as well, when I had that cardiac event
This is just a dream you know."
His father looked at him. Then he stood up and began to
walk out of the room. As he approached the kitchen door,
father turned to him and said "Yes Bill, but whose
dream is it?"