Sweet Dreams

The miracle of Christmas is the gift of love.

Sometimes, I look around me and just feel grateful. Sometimes the best presents are not found neatly wrapped under the Christmas tree. Sometime the lights flicker and glow and each pulses with love.

I am a man dying of thirst next to a stream of sparkling water, bubbling, light, frothy, delicious. I turned away for so long, that now I think the singing it makes rushing forward so joyfully is just the sussurus through the leaves above me.

But it's not. It's water. It's cool. It's real. And there's enough for me to drink to quench the deepest thirst.

The lights continue to flicker. The leaves to glow. And the leave to rustle. Angel wings brush against my cheek. It's a lovely fragrance. Sometimes I close my eyes, and I go to heaven.

My stomach slowly unclenches. I lean back, chewing on a blade of grass. I close my eyes.

And fall asleep.

Sweet dreams.

Merry Christmas.