The Pillow

I am sitting on my patio in San Diego on a sunny October afternoon, sipping Lemongrass Green Tea and listening to the gentle trickle of the pond's waterfall. I keep dozing off in the warm autumn sun, spiraling into  the comfortable depth of an afternoon nap, dropping into a deep black void surrounded by calmness when suddenly I am brought back to the present by the jingling sound of a bicycle bell. I adjust myself in the old wing chair, my head resting against a soft pillow. Besides being soft and huggable, the pillowcase was hand embroidered by my grandmother which makes it even more lovable.
The ringing of the bicycle bell is still with me. There are no children playing outside, it is quiet. Neighbors are at work, kids at school, or the condos are vacated and up for sale. It must have been a dream.