Not all dreams are sweet

She saw the future in her dreams. When she was six she dreamed of her high school graduation and when she was nine she dreamed of her college days and what she would study. The day she turned twelve she dreamed of her future career and at sixteen she dreamed of her wedding day and saw the man she would marry. Her dreams continued to show the future, so she made no plans and let her dreams carry her along. She graduated from High School, went to college and got a job just like her dreams foretold. All her dreams had come true so far and so she waited for the rest, waited for the man, the wedding the children and the life she dreamed of and while she waited she failed to take notice that her life was passing her by. She awoke upon the morning of the day she had dreamed would be her wedding day with no groom and no dress and no wedding. She had let the dreams rule her life and as some times happens not all dreams come true. She made a decision that day, the decision to no longer rely on her dreams to build her life. She would make the decisions, screw those stupid dreams, she hated her job, regretted her career path and college major and that guy she had dreamed of was no prince charming and so as the rest of her life unfolded she no longer dreamed about life but lived it.

The barn

There was a lantern on the barn as I approached from the west. My horse was tired and I needed a hot meal and a bath. The man and his woman were nice enough to provide both. I felt bad when I stole her cameo broach and his shot gun, but I had to survive. I left them tied up in a stall in the barn with some food and water. It may be a week before anyone rescues them, but they should be ok. I have grown weary of this life style but I go on. I dream of a small place of my own like the man and woman have. A small house and a head of cattle, I could graze in the mountains. A red barn, I would love to a have a freshly painted red barn with a lantern hanging from a hook. My husband would come in from milking our cow, kiss me and say that dinner smelled good. These dreams have plagued me for the last three years. I barley sleep any more for fear they will come in the night to destroy me. I can not give up now that I am so close to the end. The end will come when I kill him, the man who stole that dream of the house, barn and husband, the man who shot me and left me bleeding and for dead as I laid next to my dead husband in the rain that night three years ago. I am close to him for I can feel it in my bones. Once he is dead maybe I can sleep again.

The end: Tired and Sore

So Absurd

The whole thing was so absurd that she was not even sure that it was real and not some crazy dream she was having. So, she pinched her self hard, which was going to leave a bruise. She could not believe she was even in this situation at all. Every time she looked around she would just repeat these word----absurd, absurd, absurd. Every night she would go to sleep thinking she would wake up the next morning and everything would be back to normal. But every morning she woke up in the luxurious bed in this palace and pinch herself. She was a normal Midwest girl who some how got entangled in every girls fantasy and she was beginning to think that the absurdity of it all was that no one else seem to think it was absurd. Her parents even supported the whole absurd scheme. Her own parents, well now it seemed they were not truly her parents. Who knew when they took that crazy vacation 26 years ago and her Mom went into labor 2 months early and gave birth to what they thought was a healthy baby girl but in fact was a tiny little boy and that a nation waiting for the birth of the heir of the throne desperately wanted a prince and some patriotic nurse decided to give her country the heir they wanted not they one they actually had, me. Now 26 years later the truth is out and her I am the head of this little European kingdom no one in the Midwest had ever even heard of. It is just to absurd to even contemplate, my life has become a soap opera, so I guess I should just put on this tiara and go out to my ball and dance with the very handsome duke. Absurd!

The Book

The book was thick and black and covered with dust. Its boards were bowed and creaking when I opened it. Little did I realize at the time how opening that book would change my life forever. The dust scattered when I turned the first page and as I began to read the room around me receded. The story was beautiful and sad and I cried. When I looked up from the pages the room was bathed in the glowing light of sunset. I had read for hours and it had felt like minutes. I went downstairs and found something to eat, but my mind kept going back to that sad, beautiful story. I wanted to read it again and again. So that is what I did . I put my untouched meal aside and I picked up the book. I read for days. Not eating, not moving. It was only after they put me here that I realized what I had done. I had eaten my own hand because I could not get up from that book. I am not sure what happened to that book after the mailman found me and they brought me here. I hope it was burned to ashes but I fear that it was not. That book ruined my life, but if I could find it I know that I would read it over and over and over again.

Tall Skim Latte

She ordered the same thing every morning from the coffee shop on the corner of her block and then walked to the train to make the trek to work. Every morning the same routine over and over, but this day would be different because in the middle of her routine a strange thing happened. While waiting in line she was thinking about the article she had read the night before in Time magazine about the likely hood of a single woman over the age of 35 meeting a man and getting married, the statistics were very disheartening. According to the article a women past the age of 35 had a greater chance of being killed by gunfire then in finding love. At 37 she did not need a magazine article telling her the chances of finding a soul mate were bad, she knew that already. She was distracted from her thoughts by the man waiting in line in font of her who was acting a little oddly, she tried not to stare as he sweated profusely under his long trench coat, which was odd as well since it was already eighty degrees and then with a flourish the man stepped up to the counter and pulled a gun from his pocket aiming it at the cashier. Both she and the cashier screamed causing the gunman to lose control and turning toward her he fired his gun and the last thought running through her head was “Damn the article was right!”

To be covert

As she left the building she heard the sirens approaching. They would be here soon enough and know that she had killed that man. It was time to leave this city. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number. He answered on the first ring,
“I’m leaving.” She said.
“I saw a breaking news story about a man killed at an accounting firm in Chicago.” He replied
“I was careless, I got too settled, it won’t happen again. I will call you when I find a new place.” With that she hung up the phone and hailed a taxi. When she arrived at the train station she made her way to the bank of lockers on the lower level. She dug out the key from her bag and opened up the locker. Inside were a small leather bag and a suitcase. She opened the leather bag found the car keys buried under the stacks of cash. The car was parked at a lot on 59th street and it was her ticket out of this town. She grabbed the bag and the suitcase and made her way to the bathroom. The women’s bathroom on the lower level of the train station was where the junkies went to shoot up; it was the perfect place to change her appearance. She took a pair of scissors out of her bag and began to cut off her long blond hair. She was good with a pair of scissors and once she had found a new city she could get it cleaned up by professional. When she was finished cutting the woman in the mirror looked completely different. She looked older, although she could still pass for someone 10 years younger, she looked more professional and eerily she looked like Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby. In her bag she also had a box of hair dye. She dyed her hair, turning it a medium brown. It always surprised her how much a haircut and dye could change your appearance. She gathered up all her supplies and went into one of the bathroom stalls to change into the jeans and sweater from the suitcase. Once she had changed she put the suit along with the hair dye and hair in three separate plastic bags, pulled on a leather jacket and walked out of the bathroom. As she left the train station she dumped the bag of hair dye in a trash can and turned north to walk toward her car. The car was parked three miles from the train station and along the way she could dump the last two plastic bags. When she reached the parking lot she fished the keys out of her purse and opened the trunk, throwing in her suitcase and the bag of money. She had no real plan other then to head west out of the city. She got into the car, started the engine and drove out of the lot heading toward the interstate once on the interstate she headed west toward Iowa. As she left the city limits she glanced into her rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of the skyline. She had enjoyed her time in Chicago. It had been an excellent home base with a good airport with flights everywhere. She had made a few friends and had enjoyed her cover job. She was going to miss this city. She regretted that. Regretted that she had become somewhat attached to this place. In her line of work that was something to be avoided. No attachments. The next city she would not let seep into her skin like this one had. She was determined to keep her distance. She did not like this feeling of loss and for the first time in 15 years she questioned her choice of career.

I follow

I have always been a follower. It was easier. I never had to think for myself, I could just follow someone who would think for me. It all started in kindergarten when Suzi Stanhope said, " Come on follow me to the swings." It was so easy to fall into this role. I always had lots of friends because I always agreed with what they said. People like that you know, they like when someone listens and does things just like them. It makes them feel strong. I have made a lot of people feel powerful and self confident. I thought I was happy all these years, but I was wrong. I have discovered you can only follow for so long, that finally one day it is if a cloud dispersed and you realize that maybe you have spent you whole life following people and never being true to yourself. When that happened to me I packed a bag, grabbed my car keys and left that town where all I did was follow. That was ten years ago today and I follow only my own dreams these days and while I may not be as well liked and have as many friends as when I followed, I am happier.

Our Secret Language

When we were six we created a secret language that only we understood. We would sit for hours speaking in only that language. Everyone around us would get frustrated not understanding anything we said, but we did not care, we were inseparable and no one else needed to know our secrets. As we grew the language grew with us, by the time we were eighteen the language was more complex then half the languages in the world. We still frustrated people and we still kept our secrets in a language only two people knew. As all good things do, it had to end one day. I was not expecting it, but I should have. She had fallen in the love the year before and I should have seen the writing on the wall, but I did not. It seemed as if one day she understood the language and the next she did not. That was many years ago and as those years have passed I too have forgotten most of that old language, but every so often a word will flit across my mind and I will be taken back to those glorious days where I spoke a language of two.