The Way Life Unfolds

“It’s so different when we are children; when we can’t imagine any of this will happen, the way life will unfold.”

A thin young woman slumps in a wooden porch swing in the darkness of very early morning. She wears a long, midnight navy sheath dress. Two not-young, not-old men sit nearby in chairs pulled close to the swing.  They look up at the sound of my voice. I carry a full-to-the-brim martini. Two giant stuffed olives in it roll around, props on the wrong set. I put it down and move toward the young woman. A headlight strobes the porch. She lifts her head. The glitter of tears stops me.

Later, a van delivers an ornate crystal basket full of impossibly fresh yellow daisies.

Some dreams stay with you long past sunrise.

7 thoughts on “The Way Life Unfolds

    1. Good word. Haunts me, too. I almost didn’t post this one, but finally figured I should quit overthinking, and instead type up those just woke up scribbly notes and let the subconscious chips fall where they may.

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    1. What did you ever do to WordPress to make them black ball your comments, Deanna? Reminds me of how our car locks me out when I get out to fetch the newspaper at the driveway. Buck has to click and let me back in. I tell him the car is trying to protect him from me. Like WordPress (and others), our sentries often can’t tell friend from foe. Thanks for your words and for persisting!

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    1. Thanks, Kate. I do record many of them, although some goodies get missed because my desire for coffee supercedes my discipline to grab a note pad and scribble. And you know how elusive dreams are; if you don’t fix it in your mind the instant you wake up, stumble out and write at least a few words or sentences, it fades quicker than a cheap swimsuit. If you’d like to read my other dreams, look at the drop-down Category menu on the side column.

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