After a Dream

Morning, mid-week:

I do not know what day it is, only that the sun is high, and hot. It must be summer. I dreamt of her again last night. She was in a cabin, and I saw her through the window. There, in the kitchen, she leaned over a table, bending just so, and an inch’s share of skin on her back was shown under her shirt. Her skin was pale and oranged in the light of one large candle. She worked on something I could not see, and I imagined interrupting her.

“Hello,” I’d say. “Hi,” she’d say, not looking up. She always knew it was me. I would place my right hand on her left shoulder, softly, and slowly move it down to her hand, which I would hold tight. I would look into her eyes, and, trying to figure out just what shade of brown they were, I would kiss her. Our lips are, to me, quite familiar now, each to each, in my dreams.

We’d kiss as though we had not been together in years and would not be again. We’d tear ourselves apart, and I would leave, secretive, as though someone watched, or followed. And then, as always, I awake. For a moment, I lay in my bed, wanting. My days are never full, but the sun still burns, and I wait to not be alone.

~ from Scribbling Dreams: Tristan's Journal, by Varjak Paul


Blogger Josh said...

Gabriel Faure set an Italian poem (I don't know the title)to music and titled it Apres un Reve. I found this translation:

In a slumber charmed by your image
I dreamed of happiness, ardent mirage;
Your eyes were more tender, your voice pure and clear.
You were radiant like a sky brightened by sunrise;
You were calling me, and I left the earth
To flee with you towards the light;
The skies opened their clouds for us,
Splendors unknown, glimpses of divine light...
Alas! Alas, sad awakening from dreams!
I call to you, oh night, give me back your illusions;
Return, return with your radiance,
Return, oh mysterious night!

3:08 PM  

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