Eve of the solstice, I dreamt I was back in Salem, in my tween years, calling my best friend, Edward. In my dream, a number presented itself: 363-7190. It is possible that that was, in fact, Edward's phone number, back in the day. No way to know at this point. Who knows what random bits of knowledge are tucked away in our minds?
In my dream, I was calling him for reassurance, just like I used to back then. But the dream shifted before he could pick up.
I stood in the foyer of our house in southeast Portland. I'd just come in the door. It was warm in the house and I was pulling off my jacket. Then Maty was hanging on my neck. Her face was pushed into my collar and I could feel warm tears on my skin. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" I asked. Inconsolable, she couldn't answer.
Eventually, I awoke, relieved. My dark dream was over. And the solstice had arrived.
The days would be lighter from here.
1 comment:
Thanks for that. I have been thinking about literature and my conclusion is that great literature describes the human condition but doesn't explain it. To explain is facile in the face of such a mystery. Your post touched on what it is to be human but I don't know how, and I don't know why.
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