She tossed herself into bed and pulled the covers up. She twisted and tugged and furrowed, so the coolness of the sheet combined with the eternal warmth of the comforter to evoke that beautiful discontent in the chest that is only quelled by deep, deep sleep.
She shivered and sighed and decided against crying. And almost immediately, she slept...
A car ride, unbuckled in the back seat, as a little girl - maybe nine years old.
Buying a red-white-and-blue popsicle from the ice-cream truck, but never getting to eat it - just watching it melt over her fingers.
A car alarm going off and interrupting some important, yet somber, outside event (maybe a funeral) - knowing she can stop the embarrassing squawking, but not being able to find that set of keys in what seems like a purse full of sets of keys.
A dark corridor with doorways outlined in blue light. Each doorknob turns when tried. The doors each open but the lights go off. She is to scared to enter an unfamiliar room with no lights...
...This is the dream from which she awakened - the only one she could pick from the litter of her subconscious. She threw off her blankets, as she was sweating. The alarm was blinking 12:00. A power outage, perhaps? She thought she heard her baby cry. She lay still, quieting her movements, and listened intently for a moment. That moment convinced her that her baby wasn’t crying, but she swung out of bed and traversed the hallway to check anyways.
Her baby had unbundled herself. Her arms were spread in exaggerated relaxation. She wore mittens so she wouldn’t scratch her face, and now she sprawled like a down-for-the-count prize fighter. When her mommy’s approaching footsteps had caused a slight creak, her bottom lip quivered. But she didn’t wake up - just sighed a heavy, peaceful sigh. And resumed that beautiful dream...
Looking up into daddy’s face as he holds me close to his beating heart. He sings and he resonates his love for me in his song. He kisses my cheek and his whiskers tickle my nose, and I smile, and smile, and smile.
In frozen streets, his footsteps crunched, crunched, and crunched. The cold February wind stung his hand through his mittens. He rubbed those gloved hands together like a prize fighter who had thrown more punches than he’d received, but wished he could just end the fight, curl up in a fetal position, and sleep in the middle of the ring. Throngs of fight-goers urging him to stand up before he was counted out would be soon disappointed. Their protestations would fade seamlessly into his dream...
Walking bare-foot through the hallway of his home. Carrying his smiling baby girl to her crib. Choirs of angels line the halls, singing a sweet lullaby both to him and his little girl...
...He caught his balance after hitting a patch of ice. How was it possible that he’d fallen asleep while walking? Coffee’s service was wearing off. He felt something cold and wet land on his forehead. Snow. A single snow flake crushed his hopes of early spring. He looked up at thick sky.
It sifts from leaden sieves.
It was so beautiful in December. Well, it was beautiful now, too. He just didn’t want to see it again until December. It fell thicker and faster.
It falls and falls and falls, piling on top of him until he cannot move or breathe. He tries to cry out and the white blanket muffles his cries...
...He blinked. Then he pressed his eyes tightly shut and rubbed them with his mittens, which were now flecked with snowflakes. His coat was also covered with snow. He’d been standing, gazing up, for several minutes. A skiff of fresh snow covered the cars that lined the street.
He sighed, dull and low, and his breath clouded around him. One more hour until his shift ended. Then sleep.
*******************
3 am.
The apartment was quiet and he did his utmost not to let the door latching shut disturb that quiet. He deposited his bag by the door and left his snowy boots on the mat. He peeled off layers of clothing and put on warm pajama pants and a t-shirt.
If his daughter’s bedroom door was open, he’d check in on her...it was. He rubbed his arms and blew in his hands before entering the nursery (He didn’t want to bring that cold, outside presence into her warm peaceful room). There she slept, still and dreaming. Absolutely lovely. He resisted the urge to pick her up, hold her close as she happily awoke in his arms. Instead he graced her forehead with a single, gentle kiss. She smiled in her sleep.
He then went into his own bedroom. He saw the alarm clock blinking 12:00. He thought about resetting the time. He thought about setting the alarm on his mobile phone, since he had to be awake for school in three and a half hours.
Instead he tossed his phone onto a pile of folded towels on the dresser, and climbed into bed. He stared down into his pillow for a minute before sleep besieged him. And with it dreams...
Green grass.
Blooming trees.
High, white clouds and streaming beams of sunlight.
Springtime.
Baby in my arms. Baby at my side.
Smiling, smiling, smiling.
Music playing close by.
Hands held.
Kiss on the cheek.
Springtime.
Heartfelt sighs.
She shivered and sighed and decided against crying. And almost immediately, she slept...
A car ride, unbuckled in the back seat, as a little girl - maybe nine years old.
Buying a red-white-and-blue popsicle from the ice-cream truck, but never getting to eat it - just watching it melt over her fingers.
A car alarm going off and interrupting some important, yet somber, outside event (maybe a funeral) - knowing she can stop the embarrassing squawking, but not being able to find that set of keys in what seems like a purse full of sets of keys.
A dark corridor with doorways outlined in blue light. Each doorknob turns when tried. The doors each open but the lights go off. She is to scared to enter an unfamiliar room with no lights...
...This is the dream from which she awakened - the only one she could pick from the litter of her subconscious. She threw off her blankets, as she was sweating. The alarm was blinking 12:00. A power outage, perhaps? She thought she heard her baby cry. She lay still, quieting her movements, and listened intently for a moment. That moment convinced her that her baby wasn’t crying, but she swung out of bed and traversed the hallway to check anyways.
Her baby had unbundled herself. Her arms were spread in exaggerated relaxation. She wore mittens so she wouldn’t scratch her face, and now she sprawled like a down-for-the-count prize fighter. When her mommy’s approaching footsteps had caused a slight creak, her bottom lip quivered. But she didn’t wake up - just sighed a heavy, peaceful sigh. And resumed that beautiful dream...
Looking up into daddy’s face as he holds me close to his beating heart. He sings and he resonates his love for me in his song. He kisses my cheek and his whiskers tickle my nose, and I smile, and smile, and smile.
In frozen streets, his footsteps crunched, crunched, and crunched. The cold February wind stung his hand through his mittens. He rubbed those gloved hands together like a prize fighter who had thrown more punches than he’d received, but wished he could just end the fight, curl up in a fetal position, and sleep in the middle of the ring. Throngs of fight-goers urging him to stand up before he was counted out would be soon disappointed. Their protestations would fade seamlessly into his dream...
Walking bare-foot through the hallway of his home. Carrying his smiling baby girl to her crib. Choirs of angels line the halls, singing a sweet lullaby both to him and his little girl...
...He caught his balance after hitting a patch of ice. How was it possible that he’d fallen asleep while walking? Coffee’s service was wearing off. He felt something cold and wet land on his forehead. Snow. A single snow flake crushed his hopes of early spring. He looked up at thick sky.
It sifts from leaden sieves.
It was so beautiful in December. Well, it was beautiful now, too. He just didn’t want to see it again until December. It fell thicker and faster.
It falls and falls and falls, piling on top of him until he cannot move or breathe. He tries to cry out and the white blanket muffles his cries...
...He blinked. Then he pressed his eyes tightly shut and rubbed them with his mittens, which were now flecked with snowflakes. His coat was also covered with snow. He’d been standing, gazing up, for several minutes. A skiff of fresh snow covered the cars that lined the street.
He sighed, dull and low, and his breath clouded around him. One more hour until his shift ended. Then sleep.
*******************
3 am.
The apartment was quiet and he did his utmost not to let the door latching shut disturb that quiet. He deposited his bag by the door and left his snowy boots on the mat. He peeled off layers of clothing and put on warm pajama pants and a t-shirt.
If his daughter’s bedroom door was open, he’d check in on her...it was. He rubbed his arms and blew in his hands before entering the nursery (He didn’t want to bring that cold, outside presence into her warm peaceful room). There she slept, still and dreaming. Absolutely lovely. He resisted the urge to pick her up, hold her close as she happily awoke in his arms. Instead he graced her forehead with a single, gentle kiss. She smiled in her sleep.
He then went into his own bedroom. He saw the alarm clock blinking 12:00. He thought about resetting the time. He thought about setting the alarm on his mobile phone, since he had to be awake for school in three and a half hours.
Instead he tossed his phone onto a pile of folded towels on the dresser, and climbed into bed. He stared down into his pillow for a minute before sleep besieged him. And with it dreams...
Green grass.
Blooming trees.
High, white clouds and streaming beams of sunlight.
Springtime.
Baby in my arms. Baby at my side.
Smiling, smiling, smiling.
Music playing close by.
Hands held.
Kiss on the cheek.
Springtime.
Heartfelt sighs.
