Skip to main content

Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
Home
Contents
Biographies
Submissions
Archives
Editors
Contact Us
Publications
Policies

A DREAM OF GARRISON KEILLOR

 

                According to my dream, he writes incessantly.  We sit near each other on uncomfortable molded plastic chairs, looking out at a darkened airport runway.  The night feels thick and deep.  The airport bars have closed.  A few lonely lights pierce the enveloping murk. 

 

                He proclaims in his familiar radio voice:  “It’s a beautiful morning.”  What?  It’s the middle of the night.  Anyone can see that.  Is this guy able to experience the coming dawn before the rest of us?  Or is it some sort of figure of speech? 

 

                Suddenly I realize that he is writing, testing phrases aloud before setting them down in his notebook.  Oddly comforted, I listen in the dead black airport night as he goes on intoning calmly:  “Sun reddens the chimneys. . . .  Heavy-budded trees glimmer over the rooftops. . . .  It’s a beautiful morning.”

 

                                                                                                                                                                                              Thomas R. Smith