Zen aspirations

Woke up this morning
before the alarm,
sweaty and aggravated,
still mentally in a dream
that felt so real and
still needing to be dealt with
(at a musical revue,
supposed to be in charge
but there was no program order and
no music to play from and
no one to tell me what any of it should be)
and
it took a couple minutes to realize that
indeed it was a dream and that
I'm usually smarter than my dreams
(and sometimes even more capable?)
and that dealing with
idiosyncracies at the office
and a
first stab at pilates
and a
friend's political campaign meeting
followed by
a beer out, again, with Southie Med
(this time at esteemable Quenchers Tavern on I Street)
are all going to be easier than
that dream
and that
it would probably behoove me to
just be
chill
about
them all.