People in this black and white world are milling around, laughing and talking as they choose food from the buffet, but I can hear no sound.
I move to the center of the room where I spot a small child, a girl with the slightly flattened features typical of children born with Down Syndrome, sitting alone and dejected at a table.
As I watch a woman places one hand on the child’s chair and uses her other to set a plate heaped with food onto the table in front of the girl.
Instantly, the child’s frown transforms into a smile and her happiness seems to light up the room.
Crash. A sound breaks through the barrier of my dream and I can feel myself being pulled through a long dark tunnel toward consciousness.
Click, click, shuffle, ping. As the noises become clearer I realize that any chance I have of
returning to my dream state is quickly fading.
returning to my dream state is quickly fading.
Sizzle, scrape, slap. The smell of French toast wafts into the room and I breathe deeply to capture as much of the delicious aroma as I can.
Click, rrrrr, click. Now the heady fragrance of freshly made espresso invades the room and tickles my nose.
With a sigh I concede defeat, push aside my warm blankets, and swing my feet over the edge of the bed. As my bare feet hit the hard, cold floor it becomes official—I am awake and the day has begin.
The best mornings are the mornings I wake up to an already prepared breakfast.
It is nice, isn't it?