I couldn't wait to read it. We had parked in a gravel driveway. The rest of the family, including Caitlin's friend, was inside. I asked if I could read the poem before we entered. I would have asked the same had it not been a dream. She handed me the sheet.
"Ned is..." it began. As I read, I was awestruck, astounded, amazed. Never had I been so well defined. It was like my lifelong search for identity was finally over. My deepest essence, scripted in beautiful bubble letters, had been masterfully refined to fit on a half sheet of paper. It was a miracle.
It was also at this point that my sleep slipped to doze. I reread Evelyn's poem. My poem. I re-reread it. I remember reading it multiple times. This was a dream, I told myself. But of course it was more than a dream. God was speaking to me. He was using this dream to answer my questions. The questions we all have. The two deepest ones: who am I? why am I here?
And I was really coming into wakefulness now. And as it came the words were fading. Like the delete button pressing down. But I managed to find a pen before the first phrase was erased. I found an index card. I wrote down the words. Grateful, I fell back to sleep.
The next morning, I awoke to read this:
Ned is finger lickin' gum shoes.