“Are you sure / That we are awake? / It seems to me / That yet we sleep, we dream.” —William Shakespeare, Midsummer Night’s Dream
Midsummer Day, I dreamed I was late to meet a play date in a scene, and afraid to face my fate.
“The course of true love never did run smooth.”
I prayed for grace and lengthened my stride, yet the quicker my pace, the slower I hied.
“Lord, what fools these mortals be!”
Then my head was turned by a shrill scream―Make a play date wait on Midsummer Day, face a chill fate in A Midsummer Night’s Dream!
“And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.”
That shrill scream gave me the willies. Yet right on cue, I flew from the wings to meet my date in the scene and face my fate. Lost my stage fright as I found my chill. And in that night’s dream, the play didst sate. So all’s will that ends will.
“The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.”
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