From 'ephron' 9 Poem by Morgan Michaels

Early the next morning (even given the time difference) the telephone rang. By this time, the number on caller ID was familiar; I was getting ready for work and still had lather in my ears.

'Well, hey, you're up early', I cried. 'Morgenstund' hat geld im Mund'!

'Yes, but I had the most horrible dream. Absolutely terrible'.

He sounded awfully and frail, him who'd seemed so solid and immune to panic. There was no choice, I sat down heavily on the bed, prepared to hear Ephron's dream.

'I dreamed my doctor came by', said Ephron. 'Here, in this very room'.

'Whatever', I said, 'is so terrible about that'?

'Wait. He stood beside the bed', looked me straight in the eye and said 'you're going to die'! Then, he straightened his tie, turned and walked out'.

'How awful'!

'You're telling me'?

'Ephron, I'm really sorry'.

'Oh, that's not all', said Ephron, with a smidge of self-pity.

'Look, it was just a dream- from separation anxiety or the sleeper, maybe'.

'Maybe. But it woke me up. I started to think. I couldn't help it'.

He was panting and sounded a bit breathless.

'What if the doctor's just saying I'm ok? What if he's lying'?

'That's ridiculous. (though in Ephron's case, true) Why would he do that'?

'To make me feel better, I suppose. So I wouldn't worry'.

'That would be odd, wouldn't it'?

'Not if my case was so hopeless. Odder things have happened. I must be hopeless'.

Then, I discovered the lather.

'Just forget it, Ephron. Don't think about it. What time's discharge'?

'Ten'.

'Is somebody picking you up'

'Absolutely not', growled Ephron, showing a flash of his old self. 'The idea'!

'Then, how are you getting home'?

'I'm taking the bus, of course'!

'Well, call me when you get settled, won't you'?

'Sure. It'll be good to get home. This place gives me the willies'.