It’s after 0200 in the Dark, and I’m staring at the weather map…. Waiting for Audri to climb back into her apartment (she was having a sneezing fit and needed to rinse her nose…)
The entire nation in it’s various shades of blue (around about in the 40’s, up here in the ‘Great Whyte Northe’), with a shock of pink (0 degrees, approx) northwest of the Lakes, and all of the South stands out in pale yellow (61, currently in Lampasas). Hmmm…. 2 am and 60 degrees…. Must be nice to sleep with the window open wide enough for a Texan Feline Guardian of the Night to slip in every hour or so, to check on her Mistress’ safety, on her watch….
Meanwhile, I’ve got 3 heaters running on max output and its still too cold in this uninsulated tool shed to pee in the bucket, just over there, without putting on a sweater first. What happened to the days when I used to wear a tank & shorts, unphased & exposed in the snow?
I had a dream just now, which I left, interrupted by a duck-plea for assist…. We were back on the River. The sun was bright and warm on our shoulders, there was muffled chatter and occasional laughter that floated lightly thru the air, like a Butterfly Ball. We were walking thru a short-grassed field, with cars parked not far off, slow, along lengths of brightly colored tables of the Hawkers’ wares, admiring the wondrous myriad of Craftsmanship displayed there for our pleasure & hopeful purchase.
Glancing over near my shoulder, I catch your dark eyes, under a blue field-worker’s bandana you wore when it was hot, your shiny black Amazonian curls sparkled under the glare of the sun, and you threw me one of your bright-shiniest grins, with a cackle thrown in. Sun’s warmth on my skin & your smile warmed me within…. There could not have been a better day to be on the River, with Rainbow flags fluttering, scattered here & there, in the River’s valley breeze. A Perfect day for Festival- what the afternoon held, didn’t much matter as long as we were together. Cuz I was with my Best Friend.
Then a slow, creeping dread begins to fill the pause where my dream waits to be finished as I realized, that’s all that I can remember.
Was it dreamed, or remembered? This growing fear of loss that slowly overtakes me each moment, when I try to grab hold of these visions that race past my mind worries me more every hour. Loss of control of what’s rightfully mine to hold & to keep frustrates, then angers me, as a thief in Friend’s clothing.
“Come back,” I demand, “you are mine!” to my Dream.
“You are what I choose! Come back! You are mine— not to lose!”
A shudder runs through me- a ‘Crack-Flash!’ in the Night,
And I’m back, perched Alone on my concrete-lined bedroll—by myself in the cold Dark….