Dreaming ….

There was darkness. 

I was on the verge of traveling, yet to where I do not know. 

He was there, my first love. 

Even in the dark cold of the icy region I felt protected. 

There was a sense of knowledge and of warm understanding.

He left the safety of the truck to follow me into a home.  Inside were shards of my life.  

There were no lights.  Just a glowing and soundless fireplace.  The flames cast shadows that turned into the faces of those I’d known.  I would reach out to touch them, but before my fingertips could graze the dark masks, they were gone. 

Suddenly, I was outside.  Icy winds whipped furiously, threatening to frost delicate skin.  Yet there was no feeling.  Simply a sense of urgency and the realization that I was in the midst of a funeral.

Why?

I wanted to know why.

Looking down I saw a coffin. It was being lowered into a swirling, see green of wetness.  Bits of bone mixed with seaweed assaulted my eyes. 

Turning I reached into the darkness, hoping to connect with the warmth of my lovers body.  But all I felt was my purse. 

Reaching inside I found a pot of pink lipstick. 

Quickly I applied the pink potion to my trembling mouth and knew that it (the lipstick) would hide the fear.

I dreamt of the Arctic. 

An old truck. 

A funeral.  

My first lover and pink lipstick…

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2 thoughts on “Dreaming ….

  1. An alternative POV? My initial thought(s) when I read this were that perhaps it’s a way of letting go of the past – a death, if you will – of that which is familiar and a shift towards something new – typically ppl fear what they don’t know (new) & typically find comfort in that which is familiar (past) – even if it’s not the best thing, it’s still familiar and hence, comfortable. A bit more of an overall overview than piece by piece, albeit verbose. Or, maybe you just ate too many Cheese Doodles before you went to sleep. ; )

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