The Dream I Dreamed This Morning
Mrs. Gee wanted a ribbon to match her teapot and I was the only clerk. The blue wouldn’t do, the rose was the wrong shade. I brought out bolt after bolt of ribbon but not one was quite right. Finally, a plaid ribbon caught my eye. Stripes of royal blue, green gold, and spring yellow played with just a touch of mint green and matched her pot perfectly. “Splendid!” she cried.
I picked my way across the yards of fabric and tulle that she had shuffled through while scrambling to find her ribbon, stepped over the piles remnants she’d unloaded and left for me on the old wood plank floor, And then shifted back through again and again while we tried to uncover the teapot my cutting scissors.
It was a mess. My boss would have a fit. Especially since this would only bring in a $1.35 sale. Now for a $1000 dollar wedding dress, or even a $200 bridesmaid’s dress he wouldn’t have minded this little catastrophe, but this was too much for $1.35!
Plus, I had my life preserver on. (I told you this was a dream!) It was the rule, but I was the only one who followed it and seeing me with that bulbous cushion strapped to myself annoyed him.
Then the dog started barking. Begging leave of Mrs. Gee for just a minute, I hurried through the swinging back door of the shop out into a cement landing and staircase, which led down to the back door onto the alley.
Old Sam frolicked and barked like a puppy, jumping and playfully snapping at the air like a fool. At first I didn’t notice what fluttered around his head, but there seemed to be a reason for his idiocy today. Usually he was pawing at the door when he barked, as if some bum had knocked and he wanted to warn us or to scare the stranger off.
Not this time. Sam twirled and yelped like he’d grow dizzy and collapse in a panting pile of dog fur. But as he twirled and leaped and yelped he wore a big smile on his face.
That’s when I saw Pea. It wasn’t any bigger than an airy lake fly. All leggy and light, with scrawny transparent wings like wax paper, and three little spots of a future cockscomb. Brilliant as Indian beads, they flashed a spot of indigo blue, another crimson red, and the third was aqua green.
Between dog barks I began to hear it’s tiny peacock call as if it came through the end of a very long tube and swirled round and round before reaching my ears—caaya, caay, caay. I wasn’t sure if it was laughing or crying, maybe a bit of both. For while it was having fun with old Sam, I could see a worried look in it’s eyes, and a drop in flight that looked like exhaustion. It was trying to fly through the door window when it made this new friend.
I calmed Sam down and told him “Sit!” For once he obeyed me and sat with his tongue handing loose over a big happy dog smile. Three drops of doggie drool splashed on the floor while he panted.
I held out a pointed forefinger for some reason, and Pea fluttered over to my finger and perched. The skinny legs were drawn up in a crouch, his wings folded in, his tiny line of a body was covered with the fine strands of white feathers so small I first thought they were hair. His eyes and his beak were the largest thing on him. Without those and his distinctive three-point cockscomb, I’d have swatted him like a bug.
He was no bug; he was the tiniest of peacocks, caught playing with my dog, in this back stairway to an n old fabric store, on this day when I’d gotten myself into a mess I couldn’t clean up by myself.
Pea’s eyes were kind and thoughtful, not shifty and looking for something to peck like other birds. I looked into them and saw shimmering iridescent globes, solar systems and galaxies spinning into deep purples and blues I couldn’t have imagined. This little bug of a bird dreamed of the universe! I took off my life jacket and said, “Do you want me to open the door for you?” His wings unfolded and lifted him off my finger. He hovered in front of the door and I walked over and opened it.
The back alley was littered with drinking straws and paper cups, wadded up kids meal bags, beer cans, a soggy diaper, Styrofoam meat trays, dented garbage cans, an old tire full of rain water and a stray tennis shoe with a hole in the toe. Brown leaves skittered around wet puddles, the soggy ones lay pasted to the gravelly asphalt sprouting weeds.
Pea floated through the door and flew up level with the second story windows of the old buildings flanking the alley. Windows of half drawn curtains, broken blinds with strings all askew, some with blankets bunched against them hiding the occupants from the light of day looked like eyes half open.
“He knows where he’s going,” I told Sam. He gave a whimper as if he wanted to fly, too. “Me too,” I said, and turned to go back to my mess.
WRITING UPDATE: Tomorrow's my writing day. This was good practice. Thanks for checking in on me! Maybe I'll post pictures from my weekend next week for those who are interested.
I picked my way across the yards of fabric and tulle that she had shuffled through while scrambling to find her ribbon, stepped over the piles remnants she’d unloaded and left for me on the old wood plank floor, And then shifted back through again and again while we tried to uncover the teapot my cutting scissors.
It was a mess. My boss would have a fit. Especially since this would only bring in a $1.35 sale. Now for a $1000 dollar wedding dress, or even a $200 bridesmaid’s dress he wouldn’t have minded this little catastrophe, but this was too much for $1.35!
Plus, I had my life preserver on. (I told you this was a dream!) It was the rule, but I was the only one who followed it and seeing me with that bulbous cushion strapped to myself annoyed him.
Then the dog started barking. Begging leave of Mrs. Gee for just a minute, I hurried through the swinging back door of the shop out into a cement landing and staircase, which led down to the back door onto the alley.
Old Sam frolicked and barked like a puppy, jumping and playfully snapping at the air like a fool. At first I didn’t notice what fluttered around his head, but there seemed to be a reason for his idiocy today. Usually he was pawing at the door when he barked, as if some bum had knocked and he wanted to warn us or to scare the stranger off.
Not this time. Sam twirled and yelped like he’d grow dizzy and collapse in a panting pile of dog fur. But as he twirled and leaped and yelped he wore a big smile on his face.
That’s when I saw Pea. It wasn’t any bigger than an airy lake fly. All leggy and light, with scrawny transparent wings like wax paper, and three little spots of a future cockscomb. Brilliant as Indian beads, they flashed a spot of indigo blue, another crimson red, and the third was aqua green.
Between dog barks I began to hear it’s tiny peacock call as if it came through the end of a very long tube and swirled round and round before reaching my ears—caaya, caay, caay. I wasn’t sure if it was laughing or crying, maybe a bit of both. For while it was having fun with old Sam, I could see a worried look in it’s eyes, and a drop in flight that looked like exhaustion. It was trying to fly through the door window when it made this new friend.
I calmed Sam down and told him “Sit!” For once he obeyed me and sat with his tongue handing loose over a big happy dog smile. Three drops of doggie drool splashed on the floor while he panted.
I held out a pointed forefinger for some reason, and Pea fluttered over to my finger and perched. The skinny legs were drawn up in a crouch, his wings folded in, his tiny line of a body was covered with the fine strands of white feathers so small I first thought they were hair. His eyes and his beak were the largest thing on him. Without those and his distinctive three-point cockscomb, I’d have swatted him like a bug.
He was no bug; he was the tiniest of peacocks, caught playing with my dog, in this back stairway to an n old fabric store, on this day when I’d gotten myself into a mess I couldn’t clean up by myself.
Pea’s eyes were kind and thoughtful, not shifty and looking for something to peck like other birds. I looked into them and saw shimmering iridescent globes, solar systems and galaxies spinning into deep purples and blues I couldn’t have imagined. This little bug of a bird dreamed of the universe! I took off my life jacket and said, “Do you want me to open the door for you?” His wings unfolded and lifted him off my finger. He hovered in front of the door and I walked over and opened it.
The back alley was littered with drinking straws and paper cups, wadded up kids meal bags, beer cans, a soggy diaper, Styrofoam meat trays, dented garbage cans, an old tire full of rain water and a stray tennis shoe with a hole in the toe. Brown leaves skittered around wet puddles, the soggy ones lay pasted to the gravelly asphalt sprouting weeds.
Pea floated through the door and flew up level with the second story windows of the old buildings flanking the alley. Windows of half drawn curtains, broken blinds with strings all askew, some with blankets bunched against them hiding the occupants from the light of day looked like eyes half open.
“He knows where he’s going,” I told Sam. He gave a whimper as if he wanted to fly, too. “Me too,” I said, and turned to go back to my mess.
WRITING UPDATE: Tomorrow's my writing day. This was good practice. Thanks for checking in on me! Maybe I'll post pictures from my weekend next week for those who are interested.
Comments
Great to see you this weekend.
WGSIL Tammy