Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Park Bench Daydream

I found myself sitting on a bench, replaying in my mind the conversation I had with Gail. Even the thought of it made my spine tingle with anxiety. Leaning back, I closed my eyes and hoped that I'll hear same voice echo, "How's the dream?"

"Frighteningly real." My lips gestured the words and my eyes opened, almost expecting to see her sitting next to me, but the chill breeze remained unshielded on my side. Yet, I was still able to imagine that someone was with me, and nodded my head as though to greet the passerby, approaching from just beyond the scope of my peripheral sight. My heart began to beat faster with the anticipation, harder and harder, forcing me to look around. Nothing.

I couldn't help but to become absorbed in a slight sense of disappointment, still hell bent on willing her to show up randomly as she did before. All senses focused, I let the dream take over. Cutting through the scent of grass, I imagined her perfume flooding my surroundings. Eyes closed, the camera in my hand felt heavy, as though tugged. Recalling the images captured in recent days, I yearned to share them with her, perhaps inspiring further stories.

My grip loosened and I could feel the strap slowly sliding between my fingers. The wind that once cooled my arm, suddenly absent. Vanilla swirled in the air and landed next to me with a nudge of the bench, seemingly in slow motion. Again a smile stretched across my lips as I held my breath, waiting for the words. With each second that passed by, the air in my lungs pushed the anticipation further outward. I felt it flood my arms and radiate through my palms. Nothing was said, and I refused to open my eyes, accepting that today I will only see her with them closed.

1 comment:

hydrocoil said...

This is good. It's much better knowing that Gail doesn't exist. The post above isn't quite as strong. I don't know why. I think maybe you should work on the dialog a little bit?

I think you are hitting some interesting stuff here, and I appreciate the vagueness. Keep searching for meanings though, and keep inserting them in there delicately.