Dream No. 1

The man watches them, his wife and the boy she works with. They are once again in the boy’s truck, a red F-150. It’s shiny, clean and full of promise but with an undercurrent of decay that can’t be pinpointed. She is holding pictures of all the moments she and the man shared as she and the boy are looking at them with the same bored indifference one reserves for flipping through back issues of Sunset magazine at the doctor’s office.

The man gets a closer look at the image they are staring at. It’s of him seeing her for the first time, her impossibly long legs barely contained in a smart black skirt she wore with a green blouse that is slightly tight across the bodice and black stiletto heels.She descends down the escalator until he finally sees her captivating green eyes that promise adventure, desire, compassion, and a bawdy naughtiness of days gone by. The picture had captured the moment that their eyes met and he fell madly and inexplicably in love. The boy smirks and she giggles as she lights a cigarette and then touches the flame to the edge of the picture and tosses it out the window and it floats down, landing on the parking lot ground.

The pictures become a blur, one memory after the other, set aflame and dropped. Their first kiss, their first Valentine, the morning the man dropped to his knees and proposed and she yelled yes with tears streaming down her face…all gone , becoming nothing but a mere pile of ash as she and the boy sit in front of the bar where she first gave herself to the boy.

The man tries to stop them but he can’t because though he is there in the parking lot something prevents him from taking more than a step or two at a time.

The man sees that she holding one of his favorite pictures. He had his arms around his middle and youngest sons. They are all well groomed in their Sunday best, grinning from ear to ear because it was the man’s wedding day. She tells the boy that her sons were so proud to have her husband as their chosen Dad but it means nothing to her. She laughs and says that the boy can be their new daddy now though the boy is just that, a boy. He responds by making an obscene gesture as he grabs at the picture. The man can’t bare it so he runs and jumps into the back of the truck and he yells in rage while trying to break open the rear window to get to them. The man’s heart is pounding and he can’t breath, he screams that she can’t take his sons from him. They look at him and laugh. The man punches the window repeatedly trying to break it without success. He awakens to find himself fighting with the blankets. His eyes are filled with angry tears, his fists are tightly clinched , he is shaking and he can feel his heart pounding with anger and devastation. He lays back down to catch his breath and the smell of burnt paper and asphalt are hanging in the air ever so slightly along with the faint sound of her laughter as the dream slowly fades away.

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