In my dream:
she, lying in a hospital bed
told me she was dying —
told me not to worry —
told me everything would be all right.
Hours later I was told
she’d died that morning
at Manchester Memorial — an overdose.
I was a young clergyman
trying to help her sort out some theology.
She was a mother of two —
married to a man I came to love
whose recent death has set me thinking.
All that was fifty years ago.
No dream has had such staying power!