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MELTING
In the dead of night, I dreamed of melting. As I looked around the room, I could see the shelves reaching from floor to ceiling. I could see rows upon rows of vases, sculptures and drawing paraphernalia. I could see that we were avoiding each other, oh, so carefully. One of us put glass grapes here, a wood orb there. A vase was placed with hundreds of other vases. We were organizing objects, making sure everything was in its place. The air inside was crisp and very cold, which explained why I was wearing a heavy sweater. So I continued what I was doing, placing a metal can on the top shelf, and a smooth, white ceramic to the left. He came around behind me to take a wood sculpture from the right. Then it happened. Instead of passing the object behind me, I watched his hands transfer the object carefully in front of me, encircling me. I don’t know what made me do it, but I touched his hands and brought them close together. For a split moment we froze, and then…we were melting. Like an iceberg meeting an ocean, we were two disparate entities flowing together to become one object. My head fell softly back against his shoulder, and we sank gently into each other, a simple meshing of warmth on a cold night. How could I ever explain it? The embrace was so comfortable, so peaceful. It’s strange in dreams how a moment like this can go on forever, frozen in place like a glittering snowflake on century-old snow. So it exists and will always exist, a memory created in some distant icy land. A sparkling object of curiosity, vaporized upon waking by life’s fiery touch. Sometimes, in the quiet of a cold night, I see them. Two people in a cold room, arranging objects…one vase here, another there. Organizing that which can be organized, and leaving the living to those that remember their dreams.
Melting COPYRIGHT 2005 REBECCA TACOSA GRAY
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RebeccaTacosaGray |
Latest page update: made by RebeccaTacosaGray
, Dec 9 2008, 1:53 AM EST
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Moved from: A SOFTER SHADE OF INDIGO
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