Wanted to share the beginning of a new story. Tell me what you think:
CHASING
DREAMS
In the early
morning my mind continued to play back the feelings and emotions from the
dreams of my twilight sleep. I rolled
over onto my side and my eyes rested on the shadowy figure of my husband of 20
years. Even in the dark I could make out
the details of his face. Black hair
crowning his head; framing his lips and sheltering his eyes. The Spanish nose and the strong French
jaw. Light crept in through the slats of
the blinds casting light across the covers draped over his broad muscular
shoulders.
I could not
recall the image of the man in my dreams.
I lay in
silence on the brink of tears wondering if I was really dreaming or if my mind
was bringing back memories of another lifetime.
I remember gazing into his eyes and pleading with him to stay. Where was he going? There was mystery in his responses.
Later we
were traveling with many others, all seemed to understand the reason for his
parting. I struggled, hoping and wishing
for more time with him. His compassion
and patience toward me permitted more time.
As the time drew nearer to his departure my chest tightened with anxiety
and despair.
I woke with
a start with my arms wrapped around the pillow resting on my chest. I could hear my husband breathing steadily
and slowly. The rhythm of his breath
like the ebb and flow of the sea. Slowly
drifting back into twilight sleep my mind grasped at the longing in my
heart. He was tall with thick chestnut
colored hair. His eyes were kind and
penetrating. The cadence of his voice
soothing. His fingers resting gently on
my hand, offering some comfort. The loss
growing stronger and stronger.
I began
matching names of men I have known throughout my life to the quickly fading
image of the man in my dreams. No name
seemed to be quite right. Desperation
set in. I could not lose him
forever. Why was he so important to
me?
Tingling in
my left arm woke me again. I had rolled
over onto my arm during my emotional struggle with the pillow. My heart full of emotion. Why was I so sad? Why did this feel like a memory and not a
dream? Victor rolled over asking me if I
wanted to sleep with him. Snuggling and
comfort would have been preferable to this separation that I was experiencing.
I told him I
was fine.
I laid flat
on my back for many moments easing back into half sleep.
“I must let
you go,” his voice seemed to come from the depths of the earth. His hands caressing my arms and
shoulders. My head resting on his chest. Trying to hold back tears my body began to
shake.
“I love
you. Why must we be parted?” I cried softly as I searched his eyes for the
real answer.
Even though
he smiled I saw the sadness in his eyes.
He was holding something back. A
secret, if shared, may shatter every fond memory we had shared. But what were those memories? I couldn’t recall any specific event. The only remnant of happy times was the feeling
of pure joy and happiness.
We sat in
the study of a great mansion, speaking softly to one another. There was another person with us explaining
what would happen next. My memories
would be altered and I would not remember my life. It was necessary to move on. I needed to live a normal life. It was not my time. My time for what? I reached for Bastian’s hand as he faded away
like smoke. Tears streamed down my face.
Victor
rolled out of the bed and left the room, the movement waking me from my tortured
sleep. Leaving the warmth of my bed, my
feet touched the soft carpeting on the floor.
I reached for the cup on the bedside table. I took a sip.
I closed my eyes and could see Bastian’s face as if he were standing
right in front of me. Kind emerald eyes
curtained by long dark lashes and thick brows looking deeply into my eyes. I could hear his low mellow voice telling me all
things would be set right. His sculpted
jaw revealing its strength with each word spoken.
Leaving my
room I slowly walked down the hall through the living room, dining room and
into the kitchen. I surveyed the mess
left by my daughter, Allisa. She had
stayed up baking lemon squares with her half brother, Alexander. I began clearing the center island and then
wiped it down, still wondering what it was that I had dreamt. Stacking the dishes on the countertop next to
the sink I gazed out into the backyard.
Doves pecking at the newly rain-washed lawn. Sparky, the fourteen year old pitbull-lab,
staring back at me. I watched the horses
at the back of the property slowing grazing and enjoying the softly falling
rain.
Evan walked
in, greeting me: “Good morning, Mom.” He
stood and watched me as I wiped down more of the countertops. We talked about the rain, the animals and him
getting his hair cut. He told me that he
was going to go take a shower. Left
alone in the kitchen again I began to recall other conversations:
“Mom, isn’t
this music great?” My mother looked at me like I was crazy.
“This is the
music my mother listened too when she was a teenager. This is not from my era.”
“I think
this music is romantic.” I replied.
“You were
born in the wrong era,” her eyes twinkling as you spoke to me.
I then
remembered spending time with my family the night before. We were listening to the radio as we drove
home from getting ice cream. The music
playing on the radio was from when I was a teenager. The memories evoked were from a sad time in
my life. The tightening in my chest
increased.
“I hate this
music. It brings back such bad
memories.”
“I love this
music,” Victor’s voice booming through the car.
“That’s
because you led a charmed life as a teenager.”
“What do you
mean?”
“You were
popular and it was a big party all the time for you.”
“I did have
fun,” Victor smiled.
This
conversation went on for a bit more and then Allisa asked, “What kind of music
do you like? And what era do you think you should have been born in?”
“I think of
the storied written by Jane Austin. I
would have been ignorantly happy in a simpler time. I find peace and comfort in simple activities
like gardening, sewing, drawing and painting.”
As the
morning faded into mid-day so did my dreams fade. I wondered if in fact my memories had been
changed so that I did not remember a life time with a man I had once loved so
passionately.
Who was
he?
Who was I?
