The Dream

dream

The concert, (or the movie, or the play) is over and I follow the crowd to leave.  When I’m out of the building I realize it was a mistake to exit a different way, because now I don’t know where I am. It’s a busy city street, it’s getting dark, and I have to find the parking lot, so I start walking, but I don’t know if I’m going the right way.

I’m wearing a short knit dress with long sleeves but I don’t have my coat and I know I’m going to get cold.  My hair is long and dark and heavy and when I look down some of it falls forward and hides my face.  I see my empty hands and realize I don’t have my bag or my car keys, either.  I have no idea where they are.  My red shoes clicking along on the cement are gorgeous, but for this kind of walk, not practical at all.

The crowds have dispersed.  I’m alone on the sidewalk.  Beams of light from an approaching car fill me with apprehension.  The car is close behind me when it slows down and then I start to run.  I race around the next corner, fly across the street, duck down a dark alley, come out on a different block, cross another street, turn another corner.  The car is gone for a moment, but then there it is, creeping up behind me again.  I run down yet another deserted street and then I’m racing down a hill, heading for the ocean.  I can hear the waves and smell the salt air. I scramble between the boards of a white picket fence and out on to the beach.  There’s a giant sand castle right in front of me so I scurry behind it and crouch down there to hide.

The car is huge and white, and it pulls up on the other side of the fence.  A man gets out and stands by the open door.  The lights are shining across the sand beside me.  He tells me he’s not going to hurt me.  He knows I need help.  Then he just stands there and waits.  He’s young, but he has a growth of grey streaked beard which makes him look a little fierce. I like his voice and I know he’s telling me the truth.  Why don’t you ask me to help you, he wants to know, so I ask him.  Please, I don’t know where I am.  I need help.  Please help me.

He asks me if I would like to go to the hospital or to the police station.  I haven’t done anything wrong, so I choose the hospital.  Although I’m not hurt, either.  But he explains that when a girl is alone and lost and can’t remember who she is, she should consult a doctor.  I laugh because of course I know who I am, of course I know my own name.  I could tell him if I wanted to.  I don’t want to.  He doesn’t seem to care what it is anyway.

We are in a huge white sterile waiting room.  My red shoes look like ugly blood splotches against all this white.  Across the room is a dark-haired young mother with two little blonde children who are staring at me and smiling.  Their eyes are blue, their cheeks are fat and pink, and their little baby teeth sparkle.  The man asks me if I’ve been lucky enough to see two such beautiful angelic faces ever before in my life.  I close my eyes because they make me want to weep.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks.  He stands up and faces me, then kneels down in front of my chair.  He puts his arms around me, and I lean forward into his embrace, holding him tight.  I don’t want to let him go. I don’t want to be alone and lost anymore.

I want to feel his smooth skin against mine.  I whisper in his ear, I’d really like you to shave, okay?

He hugs me closer. He makes me feel safe.  I will babe, he tells me. I will.

The concert, (or the movie, or the play) is over and I follow the crowd to leave.  When I’m out of the building I realize it was a mistake to exit a different way, because now I don’t know where I am. It’s a busy city street, it’s getting dark, and I have to find the parking lot, so I start walking, but I don’t know if I’m going the right way.

I’m wearing a short knit dress with long sleeves but I don’t have my coat and I know I’m going to get cold.  My hair is long and dark and heavy and when I look down some of it falls forward and hides my face.  I see my empty hands and realize I don’t have my bag or my car keys, either.  I have no idea where they are.  My red shoes clicking along on the cement are gorgeous, but for this kind of walk, not practical at all.

The crowds have dispersed.  I’m alone on the sidewalk.  Beams of light from an approaching car fill me with apprehension.  The car is close behind me when it slows down and then I start to run.  I race around the next corner, fly across the street, duck down a dark alley, come out on a different block, cross another street, turn another corner.  The car is gone for a moment, but then there it is, creeping up behind me again.  I run down yet another deserted street and then I’m racing down a hill, heading for the ocean.  I can hear the waves and smell the salt air. I scramble between the boards of a white picket fence and out on to the beach.  There’s a giant sand castle right in front of me so I scurry behind it and crouch down there to hide.

The car is huge and white, and it pulls up on the other side of the fence.  A man gets out and stands by the open door.  The lights are shining across the sand beside me.  He tells me he’s not going to hurt me.  He knows I need help.  Then he just stands there and waits.  He’s young, but he has a growth of grey streaked beard which makes him look a little fierce. I like his voice and I know he’s telling me the truth.  Why don’t you ask me to help you, he wants to know, so I ask him.  Please, I don’t know where I am.  I need help.  Please help me.

He asks me if I would like to go to the hospital or to the police station.  I haven’t done anything wrong, so I choose the hospital.  Although I’m not hurt, either.  But he explains that when a girl is alone and lost and can’t remember who she is, she should consult a doctor.  I laugh because of course I know who I am, of course I know my own name.  I could tell him if I wanted to.  I don’t want to.  He doesn’t seem to care what it is anyway.

We are in a huge white sterile waiting room.  My red shoes look like ugly blood splotches against all this white.  Across the room is a dark-haired young mother with two little blonde children who are staring at me and smiling.  Their eyes are blue, their cheeks are fat and pink, and their little baby teeth sparkle.  The man asks me if I’ve been lucky enough to see two such beautiful angelic faces ever before in my life.  I close my eyes because they make me want to weep.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks.  He stands up and faces me, then kneels down in front of my chair.  He puts his arms around me, and I lean forward into his embrace, holding him tight.  I don’t want to let him go. I don’t want to be alone and lost anymore.

I want to feel his smooth skin against mine.  I whisper in his ear, I’d really like you to shave, okay?

He hugs me closer. He makes me feel safe.  I will babe, he tells me. I will.

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