Dreams. Pt. 2

Still seated opposite of the woman with the bright hair and eyes she never breaks her gaze. She knows me, and every piece of my being. Who I was, who I am and who I will become in this lifetime. With a slight nod she gestures to my left. Looking down I see his hand on mine. Kind, soft hands twice the size of my own playing with a small piece of ribbon. Tying it first into a knot then into a bow and holding it out in front of him for the young chocolate eyed girl to pull on, only to undo the entire thing and start again. He isn’t a small man in stature, he’s quiet, reserved, olive complexion with dark brown eyes and short soft brown hair. He doesn’t break eye contact with the small girl across from him, smiling and laughing at her they exchange words that I cannot understand. With a swift motion of her hand the woman at the end of the table takes me to a place that I have never seen before. Here, in this place I am surrounded by bars, ankles chained to them in a seemingly endless tangle of iron. There in front of me stands the man that was seated to my left, the tall, heavier man with the kindest brown eyes I have ever seen. He stares back at me in adoration, pure undying love and within me I cannot find reason for this. He does not speak, he only takes my hand in his, opens it and with his other hand places a piece of ribbon into my palm. I look down in total confusion to see a key tied to the end of that ribbon. This key, isn’t of any material I have ever seen before. It is beautiful, amazing. I look up to ask the man “what is this?” but he is gone, I am still here, surrounded in chains behind harsh, thick bars of steel. I glance back to the key in my hand, around it the soft pale ribbon made of the softest material ever to touch my skin. With my other hand I pick up the key- at first appearing a translucent purple, now with the soft light bouncing off of it, appears to be blue, and then pink and then translucent purple again. It appears to be glass, a key made of glass? Making no sense what so ever I slump to the ground with the ridged clank of metal surrounding me when I realize, the only lock on my chains appears to match the key in which I hold in my very own hand.

Dreams

I dream of a place where my heart still dwells there among spirits trapped in time. Every dream it’s the same place, with slightly different details. The people I know and grew to love each hidden away in their own little shop, always there to greet me with a smile when I stroll down the streets. I only see the ones I grew to love and cherish as true friends there, simply amazing how they are ever the same upon my return no matter how long it takes for me to make my way back into that dream. The dream, of course is better than the reality. In one small café every person I’ve ever loved sitting at a long banquet table, all smiling and laughing, sharing wine and great stories of their lives. Somehow this particular café doesn’t exist in the real town, but every time I visit the dream it becomes the meeting point of emotion. She is always seated at the far end of the table, her hair long and soft as it was in life. The light hits her face as if she is transparent yet the heavy glow of her long locks seem blinding in comparison to the others around the table. She never speaks. Seated at the table I find the greatest loves of my life, the FEW men that have ever touched my heart and burrowed a place in my soul, all with piercing blue eyes and flawless smiles. My heart flickers when I see them peering at me. One, seated next to a childhood version of myself appears to be still caring for me, chained at the wrist with the innocence lost so many years ago, in the days when your first date meant the world, when ‘what your mother thought’ didn’t matter and a curfew was the most annoying thing in the world. There he is, still beautiful inside and out a grown man now. Years of pain show in the glimmer of his baby blue eyes and lightly thinning blond hair. He is the man she always said he would be, my mother… funny how she loved him so. His hands, weathered yet still soft as they help the youthful version of myself piece back together a broken heart that lay bleeding on the plate before me. He glances back at me, and upon eye contact I feel every word he has to say, I remember just years ago making the drive just to see him for what seemed like five minutes. Two days went so fast in a city that smelled of trash, petro and sand. In him, in the one soul that still penetrates the very being of the ‘real’ me, I carry him closely. The pain he caused all those years ago before the choice of college even crossed my mind, the man I came to know again in life once I had realized who I really was and again the man I still hold so dear. He whispers something to me, that I cannot understand and exits the room with the young long haired blond that used to be me. Across from their empty seats is a man draped in darkness, I know him because of his eyes and the sound of his voice when he speaks. He is captivating, my eyes slam shut and my memory finds me in a cemetery. It is an autumn afternoon, the smell of freshly cut grass and decayed flowers linger in the air. We sit in silence, our fingers intertwined. His hands so soft and nearly feminine in comparison to mine, I found him magnificent. THIS moment, the one before the truth came out, the moment when everything was still reality and the thought that I found my soul mate resonated in the air is quickly whipped away with the harsh reality that lies never stay buried, they come out like the dead and scare the life right out of you. After that day he was never the same to me, but in this memory, he is still perfect and that is where he stays, locked up in the dark shadow to hide him from the world and remind myself that it was all just that, a lie.

It isn’t just the past love I had felt seated at this table, it is the future as well. A young girl with chocolate eyes and intelligence beyond her years sits with a meek smile to my right. When she looks up at me I feel the light again, the one that used to be over my right shoulder in reality is now seated within this small person at the table with all of these emotions. She, herself is an emotion… raw, innocent and unscathed by life this far. My overbearing urge to protect her grows stronger with every moment I take to examine her perfect features. She is amazing, she is painful, she is mine. The woman at the end with the bright light still silent as she watches my reaction from one person to another as if some sick episode of Christmas Past, her silence is daunting and the look in her eye says something, but what I cannot figure out.

The Road

What is it with dreams? You know, the ones that hit us hard in the middle of the night. They make your heart race, or tears stream. They can make you feel more in love than ever with someone you have never met who doesn't even have a face, or all in one dream you can be horrified beyond belief. Some dreams continue, long after you wake.... small things through the day make every tiny feeling you felt during the dream, rush back through your body to the point of causing your head to ache. The dreams that remind you your mom is dead, over and over. The dreams that youre being chased by someone faster than superman, yet your legs move as if they have blocks tied to them. Then there are the beautiful dreams, the dream when you can feel his hand softly touch your face and trace your jaw line as you're kissed softly on the lips sending chills down your spine only to wake up alone. What about the baby you lost all those years ago, when in your dream it was a boy, and he was beautiful like the love you felt when he was created, and lost.

I will never understand dreams. I get angry when I see my mom in my dreams and she just smiles, she never talks to me anymore just smiles. Somehow i'm always angry at her when i wake up, i feel alone again. What about those dreams where you're just there.... in a place you love or have always wanted to go, sitting in the sun, listening to the waves crash against your feet and staring into the crystal blue water as if it were your future. Nothing............just peace.

I can't begin to even pretend i understand what causes certain dreams. Why people we've not seen in years or some faceless person is there. Why or HOW it feels so real to be chased, or even touched. I look at the reasons online, and all of them say something different. It is the good dreams.... the one on the beach, the soft kiss that leaves me shaken or the site of the son I never had laughing with his father in a life that never really happened.

I wonder sometimes, if dreams are but a glimpse of our past life, something we actually did feel or see at some point in our lives? Is it just in our psyche? Just because my mom wont talk to me in my dreams, does this mean she's angry, or that somehow deep inside i'm angry at her? I dont think so......

Sometimes I look around at the world as it is, and feel as though i'm in a dream... a great dream... a wonderful dream. It feels so good most of the time. Days like today when the breeze touches your hair just right, the smells surrounding you drift off like honey suckle and lilac. People you meet in passing smile as if they see and feel the same things! It might sound horribly cheesy, but it truly amazes me how wonderful life is!

Without hardships, we would never appreciate the soft kindness of life. Without rain, we could never smell the honeysuckle growing along the road. Without sadness and loss, we would never appreciate the things that come into our lives and change us for the better. Without tears we would never truly understand the magic of a smile. I've been asked before, many times... if i could change things in my past, would i? The answer still remains NO. Even if sometimes the past does haunt us!

Live in the moment, cherish the past and be excited for the future! Have a fabulous day my friends!