Dreamscape scenery
He came to visit in the early hours of the morning - unannounced and uninvited - a clandestine spectral of himself that slowly faded into solidity and the rustling of wrinkled journal pages. He perched himself haphazardly near my side, legs folded Indian-style and announced that he had a poem to read. Something life-changing and important. I can remember the affectionate mess of his hair - pitch black and feather-soft - the genuinely happy smile he cast on my rumpled self as I re-distributed blankets and teddy-bears-turned-pillow.
This is not the first time we’ve met like this. But it is the first time we’ve spoken. The first time we’ve done more than tandem dreams that brush by each other voyeuristically before dissipating into the sun.
“A poem” he said, “to change life and love and dreams…”
So we curled together as he read, and although the words hit me hard, I cannot, for the life of me, remember them. I do, however, remember the one tear I shed, which he wiped away gently before tumbling with soft laughter into my pillow and calling me a sap.
We stared at each other forever - my hands in his hair (adding more affection to the mess of it), his hands on my forearms. And when early morning was dissolved by the rays of the sun creeping through my blinds, I touched the ring on his finger, stared into his eyes and asked him if he was well and truly happy.
His eyes changed - darkening as reality began to settle down around us - and his answer to me was drowned out by the shrill chime of my alarm-clock.
Now, with sunlight doing its best to wipe memory clean, I’d like to thing that our dreams overlapped - the seeking and the sought-after - I’d like to think that in the split second before reality intervened, he was going to say “yes.”
But my heart thumps in concern and the darkening of his eyes
told me that he was tired and confused and more than a little lost.
I’d like to think that I provided him with a moment of refuge and comfort and that our spectral paths will cross and mesh together once more (even though I know that they probably won’t. No like they did last night). But I will light my soul on fire from this day forth - a spectral candle for those lost and weary.
I can only hope that he’ll soon find his easy way to happiness…to that light in his eye and the lift of his chin. And maybe…just maybe…he’ll find his way back to early mornings, teddy-bear-pillows and the affectionate laughter of messy hair and rumpled skin….
xoxo…