The Dream: prose

The Dream: prose

November 29, 2014

By CATALINA FERNANDEZ
Staff Writer

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“She clings onto sweet fading memories and reaches for the ocean waves.”(Hector Casanova/The Kansas City Star/MCT)
She stood on an island of isolation and disbelief. She walked on the ground of morality and tradition. She was eager to know that which could not be known, see that which could not be seen. She could not remember who she was, where she was, or why she was. Her existence in the world, her collection of flesh and bones, was but a mere speck in the spectrum of flesh and bones that inhabited the world.
She stands on an island of isolation and disbelief. She clings onto sweet fading memories and reaches for the ocean waves. She weeps in frustration as the moon pulls them back. She crawls on the ground of morality and tradition. She struggles to know, struggles to see.
She seeks advice from the whispering shells. The shells give her silence, doubling the emptiness of her thoughts, of sound, of the waves crashing onto one another. She looks up at the stars and then down at the sand. She runs her fingers through the sand, hoping to feel the warmth of crystal grains. She sits on the sand and watches, looking for something, anything.
After a while, she stands up, lifting the ends of her long, everlasting white dress. She runs back to the sea shore, picks up a handful of sand and throws it at the waves. She yells and screams as she escapes farther and deeper into the ocean. She cries because she cannot see, screams because she cannot know, laughs because she is foolish, and sighs because she is still alone. A-L-O-N-E. How is it that in a world of so many, she feels so invisible?
She stands, letting the ocean take her away, as the waves begin pulling her, leading her farther and farther into a fantasy. The sugar sea foam softly caresses her body. She closes her eyes and dreams of sweet summer days and sweet strolls in the park.
Sun-kissed skin and moonlight tangos. Dreaming she falls quickly into a profound sleep. The song of the waves, sweet like sea sirens, trap her into the broad arms of an everlasting dream.