Have I ever told you about my dream?
It starts how dreams always start, or at least how mine always do (I’m not sure about yours), but it starts with me standing alone in a park. You may find such a start to a dream strange (in truth, most of my dreams are strange), but I’m not standing long. Before I know it, I’m walking along a cobblestone path while spinning a crooked old cane.
You see, I’m searching for something… no, I’m searching for someone – it always alternates between the two, you know, and I can never quite place it! But I’m walking along the winding old path, tapping my crooked old cane on the ground, searching for signs of the mysterious being. And as I am searching, I can’t help but admire the beautiful park. Pausing a moment, I take a deep breath of the cool evening air as the sound of the gentle breeze tickles my ears, and then I find myself staring up at the stars peeking bashfully through the treetops.
It really was quite serene…
Suddenly it catches my eye!
Forgetting my cane, I start to run, trying my best to catch up to the elusive creature, but it’s moving faster down the winding old lane, a white blur in the darkness of night. But as I am running mad after my curious prey, my foot lands wrong on the uneven ground. I feel myself jolt and, unable to stop, my face meets the cobblestone walk.
Now, normally at this point I wake up – you always wake up when you fall, do you not? – but this time, this one time, I found myself still staring at the textured bricks and uneven stones of the walk, quite blankly, in fact, wondering why I hadn’t woke up. Surely I wasn’t still dreaming. I had fallen most smartly on my face – my throbbing head was testament of the fact! But I was still there, lying on the wretched walk in the park.
Grumbling and wondering, I picked myself up and dusted off my clothes, first my pants and then my jacket – I always dress nice on special occasions – but as my hand reached down into my pocket to check the time, my head tilted up and froze.
My eyes locked on to hers.
The watch in my pocket slipped through my fingers, and as it fell, everything began to slow down. The gentle breeze blew gentler still as it moved through her golden hair. Her eyes like sapphires blazed in the light, and her smile was as warm as the rising sun on my flesh. Her lips parted, revealing a brighter smile as she reached out and touched my face. Her fingers were soft against my own rough skin, running across the scraped bruise on my cheek. I winced at the touch, even though it felt sublime. Her eyes saddened at my pain.
Her empathy melted my heart.
Reaching still, her hand trailed all the way down from my face to my shoulder to my hand, until her fingers, at last, curled into mine, her touch warm against mine as we smile.
Stepping forward, she gave my arm a tug. No words were spoken, nor were they needed. The action was clear enough. I was to follow her, this strange angel of my dreams. And in this strange place, where time was still sleeping, I knew that this dream was my fate.
For so long she had eluded me, my golden-haired mystery, and now she was finally here, with me, holding my hand, tugging my arm, watching with sapphire eyes – such eyes! – watching and smiling at me. And as I took that first step into the unknown beyond the walk in the park, I realized that time was not sleeping. Time was awakening with the glowing sun, and this angel of dreams was my dawn.