Mr. Last and I enjoy reading before bed.
This is a true story.
The other night I got in bed early and picked up my book and soon was drowsy. Next thing I know it's ten p.m. and I startle awake to find Mr. Last is tucked in beside me with his current reading material.
"I was walking down a road in Pakistan..." I reported. We often share what we remember of dreams when we awake.
"I was walking down a road in Pakistan watching for the Kirghiz...um, the Kirghiz..."
"Horsemen?" Mr. Last suggested.
"YES! The Kirghiz horsemen who are the descendants of Kubla Khan."
"I think you mean Genghis Khan."
"Yeah, that's what I meant. The Kirghiz horsemen who are the descendants of Genghis Khan. But it was my dream. How did YOU know about the Kirghiz horsemen?"
"It's right here in my book."
"You're kidding! I just read it in my book. WHAT are you reading?"
Explosive laughter when I realized he was reading Three Cups of Tea, and I was reading the recap in the next volume of the story, Stones Into Schools.
And after the laughter I reflected on the fact that I have never in my life before now dreamed I was walking down a road in Pakistan watching with happy anticipation for the sight of Kirghiz horsemen to appear on the horizon. Such is the wonder and the glory of being a reader.
Thank you, Authors Everywhere, for enriching my dreams and taking me places I would be unlikely to go were it not for your stories.
And thank you, Mr. Last, for knowing what I mean when I am reaching for a word, and for filling up so beautifully all the blank spots in my life.