In my dreams…
I wore a scarf, hiding my braided blonde hair. I sang to the trees while an old man watched and those around me swayed with the wind.
Dressed in rags, I begged for food and picked pockets, only to give it to our leader. He was an urchin like myself but older…and far wiser than I.
The red gown glowed, creating the creature I’d become; wanton and possessed with a need only the richest men could give me. My bed of French lace was my lair, yet I cried each night…wishing for something I could never find.
Lights hung from the ceiling as a waltz played, while I sat primly on the sidelines, hating the bustle I was forced to wear. As the music swirled around me, I thought of my black horse and my next chance to ride bareback with that awful sidesaddle hidden under some hay.
My last one plays out each night. No longer 17, I’m instead 26, and watch with a woman’s eye as you sing. And suddenly I take the place of someone else, while we walk the beach of Malibu and you softly hum the new chords you’re creating.
I wake, listening to the past as it says goodbye for now. Immediately, I look into a mirror wondering if these people were somehow me…and once again wishing for the last to be real, if only for a moment in time.
And then I remember that they are nothing more than dreams. I am here and will never be back again…or will I? I spend hours pondering that question yet knowing somehow that the answer will only be given between one life and the next…if it is ever given at all.
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