Delicate whispers Flutter like lace kisses At the blurred edge of dreams. Murmured words made of sugar Spin into sweet promises And drift with me to sleep. I imagine you stay here, Breathing beside me, As curtains of starlight Float at the open window.
Welcome to my Friday afternoon paint chip prompt. There are other paint chip prompts out there, but they’re very precise in what they ask for. Mine is open ~ write a poem, a story, a memory, whatever you like. Take your inspiration this week from Valspar’s “dandelion wish” and/or “unforgettable.” Tag your post Paint Chip Friday, or PCF, if you wish. Prompt will continue until December 31.
I’ve had two disturbing vehicle-related dreams since I bought my car in early January. The first dream occurred a few weeks ago. I was driving Sweet Caroline with one of my exes sitting very close to me. Really close. In fact, he was squashing me up against the driver’s door to the point where it became hard for me to steer. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make him angry. Or interrupt him while he was jabbering away about something or other. But I ended up driving off a cliff. I gasped and then he noticed what had happened. He told me not to panic but to steer to the right and there were definitely things we could do to mitigate this unfortunate circumstance if we kept clear heads and used logic. Blah blah blah blah. He was still talking when I woke up.
I don’t know if that’s true. Should you steer to the right if you drive off a cliff? LOL
The second dream occurred last week. I was with this same ex and this time we were in his pickup truck. He was driving, yet even so he was somehow again sitting so close to me that I was squashed up against the door, this time the passenger door. He had the passenger window all the way down and locked in place, and he kept circling past this group of three dogs, stopping so they could jump up in my face, snapping and snarling. They hated me and wanted to kill me. I was so scared and asked him to please move over so I could get away from the window, but he wouldn’t. For whatever reason, I didn’t ask him to quit driving near the dogs. Finally, after doing this repeatedly with the dogs able to get closer to me each time, he opened the door and pushed me out on the ground to be attacked and killed. Then I woke up.
What’s weird is that I hardly ever, if ever, dreamt about this ex at all until now. Nothing memorable either. Something about the new car is triggering something about him? Idk. I do think and talk about him sometimes, as I think and talk about my exes generally, for life-clarification purposes, mostly to myself. Talking to yourself is a sign of genius, yo! I read it on the internutz somewhere.
An interesting thing that only just occurred to me is that since I moved to California my car pattern has been like so: blue Alliance, beige Stanza, blue Camry, beige Camry, blue Camry, beige Corolla. Huh. This must mean something!
Dream interpreters, fire away!
[This was written in 2016 and I’ve had more driving dreams since, though not involving exes.]
Kaleidoscopic dreams Swirl down to the sea– Violet, sunflower, teal; Love and lust and need Are subsumed endlessly In a relentless stream.
Dew-frosted leaves Gift us a living evergreen Reminder of impermanency. As love’s summer heat Fades to autumn mystique, We watch our breath escape, Our illusions dissipate, And desperately lock down our dreams.
In a bleak November Across frozen skies, Comes the dragon rising Through silvered mists of time. His mighty wings rumble Past blackened branches, Faintly illuminated By tear-streaked moonlight.
Rain-kissed blossoms, Wake with pink petals unfurled, Craving a taste of the world. Memories fade, What-ifs begin to play, And bountiful gold floods the morning.
Poetry form: free verse (curated from tweets). Image from Pexels.
Ella lay on a blanket in her secret spot, trying to sort out her emotions as she watched the waves crash onto the rocks. Her diamond ring glittered in the sunlight, and just when she told herself to stop moping and be happy, tears began to flow. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked up to find a dirty old bottle on the sand with an envelope inside.
Ella was shocked when she opened the envelope and saw that it was a letter in her own handwriting. “To whom it may concern, I am trapped in a terrible evil with no way out. There was a time I stood at a crossroads and took the wrong path, the easy way. Now all is darkness and despair. Maybe this message will save someone else.”
The wind off the water grew colder and Ella woke from her nap. Where was that weird bottle and the letter? Oh! It had all been a dream! She smiled as she looked down at her left hand. Next weekend she would be married, off on her honeymoon to Paris, and never be stressed by anything again…
Shadows of our past Captured in fairy tales Never give a true picture. Sometimes late at night I feel your mournful gaze, Like a silent, sentry owl, Feasting on my tears, Perhaps commiserating. The dissolution of dreams Sent that love somewhere, Waiting to be recaptured Out of crumbling, sepia air.
“Mimosas!” Stacy squealed as she walked into the breakfast nook. ”What’s the special occasion, honey?”
Her husband Curt handed her a glass. ”Just celebrating how lucky I am to have such a lovely wife.”
They toasted, kissed, and sat at the table, which was festooned with fresh fruit and cinnamon rolls. ”This makes me feel so much better,” Stacy said. ”I had a horrible nightmare just before I woke up.”
“What was it about?” Curt asked, glancing at his phone.
“Well… sort of a big Halloween party with lots of people. Some I knew and some I didn’t. It was chaotic, in a strange house with lots of rooms. You were disguised as a demon who was trying to get me to eat a poisoned apple, but I refused to taste it.”
“Hmm,” Curt murmured as he began to type on his phone while Stacy prattled on.
“Yes, and my boss was there and coworkers from my last job and people from high school and my family… even my grandma! I saw the president too. Oh, and there was a sexy girl demon I didn’t know who kept following you around. Her name was Melissa.”
How did I come to be living in a tiny house at the frozen edge of nowhere? I’m glad you asked! It all began with my impulsive profile on a new dating site. I know, I know. I promised never to do that again, but I felt naughty after a few glasses of wine, lonely on Valentine’s Day, so I went ahead and joined. I set my filter to show me only men over 50 who liked to read. I didn’t want to be too picky, but I had to pare down the possibilities and begin somewhere. Immediately, I was presented with a menu of candidates to choose from and clicked “like” on several promising prospects.
None of them contacted me though. Instead, a man from Alaska wrote to me telling me how special I was. He said he loved books and had bought all of mine (and he left reviews!!!), so naturally I was intrigued. He showed me pictures of his beautiful location, so quiet and peaceful ~ perfect for writers! Then he sent me plane tickets. Since I’m retired and have no pets or commitments, I figured what the hell and flew up there. We had a really nice time, taking romantic walks under the flashing night sky, reading poetry to each other in front of the fireplace, and eating juicy mooseburgers. It was all so cozy and sweet, but it was too soon to decide whether we should stay together, so I tried to book a flight back.
But I wasn’t allowed! The war had begun and all passenger planes had been commandeered by the military. We were safe for now up in the cold wilderness, but our supplies would run out. The wolves somehow knew we would soon be easy pickings and started to move closer, like the trees in Macbeth. Each night we heard them, howling and hungry, until one broke in and perched on my chest, yelling in my face.
Oh, it was only Gatsby, my cat. What a weird dream! Thankful not to be breakfast, I got ready for work.