Posting in response to Carrie's bonus prompt "Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings."
Here
are the threads of a dream,
Catalogued at 5:55 am; before the alarm chimes:
I saw Dabney Coleman in a shopping arcade
In some district of Houston that doesn’t exist,
Just as my husband avoided entering a store
Full of clothbound books and menswear.
I said nothing.
I stopped to admire a necklace—
A gold and pearl cross that echoed the silver one
My mom had loaned me and I had broken
In high school.
Dabney and his wife (the lady from National Treasure,
Tiny as a gymnast in dream life) asked the jeweler
To make us open the outer door and greeted us.
Then, asking us to wait, Dabney hurried off.
I tried to explain the cross, our anniversary weekend,
My mother’s call that there were too many people
And we should skip breakfast in the city to his wife.
I kept a mask crushed tight in my fist.
I tried to explain the perfect pictures of a light Texas snow
I was going to post later, the ones from the empty place we stayed in
Just…well, not too far…from the city. Further away.
At least another small city away.
Dabney had hurried to the executive inner tube spa nearby
And was hassling his father-in-law to get out of the water
So that everyone could have breakfast.
I haven’t thought of Dabney Coleman in years.
Awake, I wonder.
How badly do I want to be out amongst people again?
Catalogued at 5:55 am; before the alarm chimes:
I saw Dabney Coleman in a shopping arcade
In some district of Houston that doesn’t exist,
Just as my husband avoided entering a store
Full of clothbound books and menswear.
I said nothing.
I stopped to admire a necklace—
A gold and pearl cross that echoed the silver one
My mom had loaned me and I had broken
In high school.
Dabney and his wife (the lady from National Treasure,
Tiny as a gymnast in dream life) asked the jeweler
To make us open the outer door and greeted us.
Then, asking us to wait, Dabney hurried off.
I tried to explain the cross, our anniversary weekend,
My mother’s call that there were too many people
And we should skip breakfast in the city to his wife.
I kept a mask crushed tight in my fist.
I tried to explain the perfect pictures of a light Texas snow
I was going to post later, the ones from the empty place we stayed in
Just…well, not too far…from the city. Further away.
At least another small city away.
Dabney had hurried to the executive inner tube spa nearby
And was hassling his father-in-law to get out of the water
So that everyone could have breakfast.
I haven’t thought of Dabney Coleman in years.
Awake, I wonder.
How badly do I want to be out amongst people again?
Dreams can capture so many moments of memory and throw them into one mall or place that either exists or does not. This is a wonderful capturing of so much of that Chrissa, from the necklace to Texas snow, and masks in hand. I think the answer to your powerful question at the end, is yes. It is yes for many of us these day. Thank you so much for participating in the bonus prompt my friend!
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