Dreamers of the Day

Dreamers of the Day

Once upon a time there was a young girl who dreamt of many things when her world went silent, but it was when her world was alive that her dreams took on new colors of meaning.  And it was in those dreams that she would quietly tip toe behind her mind, shading any giggle with her tiny pink hands so the lilt of her laughter would trail behind her, never giving her intentions away.  On pointed toes as sweet and delicate as new rosebuds, she would playfully stalk her mind, sneaking up behind her as she sat on the lush green, sun soaked carpet, contemplating on this and that, concealing her eyes with a whisper light touch and hands that resembled stars.  Bending so her lips were flush to her ear, she spoke in a downy voice that enveloped each word in fluff as soft as that of a duckling….Be still restless thoughts. 

She would clasp her mind’s hand and let her laughter ring out, as she skipped ahead, leading her mind by the hand to the edge of the lush garden, bursting forth with blooms in the many warm shades of solace and safety.  And onto Zephyrus she’d softly kiss the words…Come, lead us to risks and the peculiarities that fear no absence of light… and his temperate breezes would forge a path, miles ahead of them. 

Her mind would often hesitate, thinking upon and then expounding on the fear and the lost, and the nowhere, and the never was, but that stellar hand would issue forth an affectionate embrace and her words following suit…Fear not nature nor beast, for the wild is far less treacherous, not nearly as expansive, and much easily subdued than all that is conjured and invited to dwell in here… with a raised hand she would direct a singular finger to the central most point of her mind. 

Hand-in-hand, they would navigate the many crooks and corners, tree knots and hollow trunks, uprooting rocks and following the curve of every root, testing the strength of each low lying branch and measuring streams in leaps, uncovering new things and at times the old, but sometimes they’d find the forgotten, and how lovely a spell of reminiscing they would sit.  They’re fairy-like dance drew them deep within the woods, where the landscape became as plush as velvet and as rich as precious gems.  And in this fantastical realm, the honey moon forever glowed and stars were possibilities that would shine brighter the more far reaching the wishes were that were wished, but even in such splendor, her mind would stray to the fear and she would whisper under her breath rapid thoughts about the menacing, unforeseen stretch of dark that lay like an ocean, waiting for the opportunity to pull them off their feet and sweep them out, swallowing their voices, losing them in the revolution….Be still restless thoughts… and with those words the calm set in once again. 

And so on they pursued that dark land where the absence of light spurred a thick, heavy atmosphere that forced their exploration to be grounded in the determination of their communal heart, but one heart wasn’t as committed to being open like the other.  So plucking that insecurity by the scruff of its neck, like a mother cat carries her kitten, she sat it on a blind rock and then with her pink, stellar hands, she spun her lighter mind around and around and around, releasing her in a dizzy and stepping far out of reach.  Her mind swatted at the air and grabbed at nothing, feeling for something solid to lean or sit upon, but that head-sick sensation soon dissolved, leaving her giggling and twirling on her own.  And she went wild, letting loose a great many revelations, conclusions, second chances, characters, and tales not yet told, bursting forth from her at a rate to great to contain or count, and she felt free, so much more free than in the sunny, gated garden contemplating on this issue of the day and that task for tomorrow. 

Soon the stellar hands were upon hers again and the silence told her it was time to return.  So return they did, to the sun soaked carpet, where the worries of this and that began to resurface, so the young girl encouraged her mind to lay upon her tiny lap, falling away to the rhythmic stroking of her hair and the honeysuckle sweet voice stilling her…Awaken.

E.A. O’Connell