One day in middle school, walking out of the lunchroom down a long, sunny hallway, I saw my father emerge from the band room where he taught instrumental music. He spotted me and pivoted, approaching with another music teacher alongside and holding a thick, green glass Coke bottle in his hand. It was half full.
There aren't many better ways to access the magic and mystery of existence than dreaming. My all time favorite came to me this summer. I was out behind a farmhouse somewhere at twilight. A cow grazed in a field. He wore a vest made of acorns. Girls in uniforms wandered past, offering loaves of warm bread. A dog in a harness pulled a wagon filled with sleeping fawns.