Monday, August 16, 2010

205. Dreams

Once I had this strange old dream. In it, I was a kid again, of maybe 8 or 9...doing stuff only a kid can. It was in a safe environment, I can't recall exactly where, perhaps a playground, with the sounds of other kids playing in earshot. And my mother was there, just out of sight, but I could feel her presence as only a kid can, feeling safe no matter where you were. And you could count on her calling you back whenever you attempted something too foolish or reckless as kids were apt to do.

So in my dream, I was playing amongst kid's stuff, perhaps building those wondrous castles of sand, or following a fascinating trail of ants right back to their Queen's lair, or blowing up alien fortresses in some made-up world. Then something caught my eye, an object that was amongst the other junk that was strewn about. It was a can that was filled with water. Immediately I knew that I had to drink it.

Now, the water in the can was clear, and seemed safe to drink, but the can itself seemed rusty and old, and definitely not safe to drink from. Even as a child, I knew that I'd be asking for trouble if I drank from it. But I had suddenly become thirsty, and everybody knows that you need to quench your thirst.

So I reached for the can, full aware that my mother's eyes were on me, and at any time I would hear her voice, low but firm, calling my name to stop me. But it never happened, she never did call, yet I could still feel her stern gaze upon my back, almost visualise her nodding her head disapprovingly.

But I couldn't help myself, I took the can and drank from it. Immediately, I felt a deep sense of regret. I knew that it was the wrong decision, every cell in my body told me so. I turned my gaze to my mother, and quite predictably, her eyes were on me.

"Now why would you do that?" she asked, with that quiet disapproving voice of hers.

Why did I indeed?

"A dream is a shadow...of something real" - The Last Wave

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