Entanglements

He stepped into her dream, blending into the scene, eluding conversation.

It was a Friday. She went to work early and forgot to clock in, remembered when the computers went down at 7:01 a.m. She saw him again, off in the distance, as she walked to the office. And, once again, she ached with a deep sadness from the loss.

Too late, said the clerk. Time cards were already mailed off to payroll. He could try to remedy the situation but with the computers being down, she will be short a day’s pay and they might dock her for the whole week. What can you do?

She stepped out into the hallway, lit a cigarette for two quick deep puffs and out, breaking rules as you’re not allowed to smoke anywhere anymore. A wizardly old man, bent from time and creased with wrinkles on leathery skin, saw her and laughed as he flipped ashes from his own cig.

The dream flipped as dreams do and he was there, with sadness in his own eyes, standing beside her and saying hey, there is something about me and you, we belong together, what do you say?

She wanted touch, as if a kiss could make everything all better, but none was offered while she studied his eyes for sincerity. The awkward tension between them was too real. A simple yes answer could alter the tides and change the course of lives. Once she was certain that he was sincere in the request and intended to follow through to make it happen, she answered straight from the heart without hesitation. Yes, but there is something I have to tell you. I have an entanglement.

~ end of dream ~

SUNDAY: I awoke from this odd dream… it is what it is: my mind playing games, tapping into a deep well of sadness to stir up memories and a longing for what will never be.

It’s garlic, the old lady told me… we spoke across the fence on Saturday, making introductions and small talk as we both tended flowerbeds in our back yards. She was thinning out her Black Eyed Susan plants and I was digging up what I thought was wild onions to make room for some peppers. I worked until my feet gave out, which means there is still a lot of work to do… so much garlic, so little time.

It will take a month of Sundays to clear out the entanglements of weeds and briers out of the perennials in the side beds. Some might wait until next year.

The square garden bed that looks like it should be a sandbox is now planted with collard greens, turnips, and carrots, with a mix of salad greens (a premixed variety of lettuce seeds) along the one side. Maybe the wooden beams will discourage the rabbits from nibbling. Nah, they can easily hop over it.

My bones locking up cancelled plans to go downtown, hard to travel when I can’t walk.

On the plus side, a yard crew from the Youngstown Neighborhood Development Corporation cut the grass at the abandoned house next door, so bye-bye bamboo… till it sprouts again.

Thanks for reading!

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Emotional Storm

I woke up early yesterday, puttered around long enough for a pill to kick in, then laid back down to catch some more Z’s. Right before waking up again, I slipped into a dream.

There was a storm coming in the dream… the kind of storm where clouds gather dark and the wind kicks up a scent of rain long before the first drop falls. I was outside gathering things… art supplies and finished pieces, feeling a sense of urgency sparked by distant thunder. Then I was standing on a front porch, it felt like home, but my awake home does not have a porch.

Anyways, I was standing on this porch in my dream, studying cloud patterns in the sky above the tree line in the field across the street and here comes this wolf walking straight towards me.  It is huge… and absolutely beautiful. I am scared but mesmerized at the same time, so I’m frozen in place, just standing there, watching it watch me as it walks right up to me. I’m not scared anymore, okay just a little apprehensive, but the approach was casual with no snarling or anything.

Then the wolf embraced me by placed a paw on my right shoulder and its head on my left, nuzzling head to my head as if trying to hug me and that’s when I woke up. I recall the fur being oh so soft and plush and surprisingly sweet smelling, as if freshly bathed in scented waters.

Since it was one of those dreams that make me wonder (never dreamed of such a wolf before), I posted a brief thing about it on Facebook… curious as to what friends may think it means.

 

Emotional storm clouds broke a couple hours later, while I was sitting on a bench in the courtyard staring in disbelief at the message on my phone, so very much awake and hoping like hell that I was back in bed and this was all just a bad dream. My aunt Lynelle was too alive to die… too vibrant, too happy, too young, too free… She was only three years older than me, had just turned 59… how could this be?

Answers to the rush of questions would come later… the rain of tears came first.

Maybe someday I will write a tribute to this amazing, beautiful woman who lived life to the fullest, loved to the max, and painted bayou scenes with such living colors that it could make you want to go play in a swamp… but, today, I just want to savor her memory and keep some thoughts to myself.

Thanks for reading.

 

Float A Dream

Float a Dream, 9 x 12 inches, Polychromos, 2016.

I like it… it is very representational of what is going on in my life right now. If you want to float a dream, you have to get it out of your head so it can catch a breeze in the real world. Sure, it might pop. Oh well, float another. Thanks for looking!

Edit Note:  deleted tangent ramblings… better for me, better for this blog.