Meaning malice, she raises a banshee cry as she smashes my dream, bleeding and unfulfilled, to the ground. Up to my ankles in deferment, I look down and spy the early bird again devouring the early worm. Tired of the dreary violence of arbitrary punctuality, I look up to see the watermelon pinks and mango oranges of another indifferent summer morning beginning. I look everywhere but her squinted eyes and thin pressed mouth fearing falling into both.
You were with me when no one else appeared. You reminded me what should be feared.
You kept me focused when I had no discipline. You kept me awake when I wanted to sleep.
You helped me set boundaries and hard limits.
Now, it is time to say good bye.
I have support and friends when I am afraid.
I have discipline and routine.
I want to follow my dreams now.
I want to be limitless.
Thank you for our time together. Thank you for always being there.
But, now is a different time. I have changed. I have grown.
So, I must say good bye.
And, lovingly let you go.
“When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed…” The Metamorphosis, Franz Kafka
“Why is it so hot this morning?” I ponder as I slowly wake from oddly lucid dreams of chewing rawhide and hunting flying squirrels.
I fall out of my bed onto the gray floor’s hard ceramic tiles.
“What is going on? Why can’t I straighten? Am I going blind? And, what is that smell?”
I crawl to my cherry Coaster Louis Philippe dresser and slowly paw my way to its top and use it to balance.
I stare at what must be me in the beveled mirror with abject horror!
In the place of me, a middle aged, overweight, dental hygienist, a golden retriever pants!
“But, my husband is allergic to dogs!” I bark.
“Oh no, did I just bark?!”
I frantically scurry around the room trying to understand what has happened and resist my gut urges to simultaneously chase my tail and fetch a ball.
“Oh no, I have a tail!”
I wake to the easy midday sunlight, sprawled on my favorite rug scrap on the back porch.
“What an odd dream!” I smile and yawn, “I think I was a middle aged, overweight dental hygienist. Who wants to think about getting old, ice cream and teeth all day when I can think about running in spring green fields and autumn brown swamps, sucking on onion grass, and playing with my pups?”
Surrounded by my young, yipping and nipping fuzz puffs, I chase my tail gleefully spying a red ball needing fetching.
When I was a child, I wanted to be a writer. I still want to be one now. How far am I from my course? You tell me. 🙂