The Undefined Fantasy

Introduction

Just as I've been doing everyday for the past week, job applications.. we are never told that finishing school and graduating is actually the easy parts of life, the lowest hurdles.. all along I've been stretching myself thin to jump over those massive hurdles which now look like a walk in the park from where I'm standing, my worry is how am I going to jump the next hurdles when I've barely made it through these ones, oh but that's it.. I've barely made it but I made it and that's all that matters. That's me and my daily dosage of self motivation to get up and face the world, everyday is a hurdle and I guess I'm an athlete.

Bright red trench coat, designer heels and an black dress with minor details, one leg folded on top of the other, black classic handbag and a coffee cup from the local coffee store, I sit at an office waiting area staring at a painting on the wall. And next to it, an big wall mirror the blonde lady keeps fixing herself,talk about competition, I didn't know one of the requirements for this job were model figure, stiletto wearing, geez.. at least I'll compete with the gentlemen over there reading the papers.

I sip my coffee and look back at the painting on the wall which is that of a lady in black walking down a country path in the rain without an umbrella, the path seems so dark, but not dangerous... it must be the clouds. The feeling of mystery in this picture makes me wish to be the lady in black, I wonder what her thoughts are, how she's feeling, where she's going and who she is.

Humming the bridge of my favorite song repeatedly, feeling every ounce of raindrops on my face, my hair dripping like a soaked cloth, strolling down Corn street with my phone in my inner pockets protected from the obsessive drizzle, I am at peace.. cars hooting to offer me help not aware that they're the ones in need of help the most, I continue to gracefully walk along the street. Is this what the promise land feels like? Am I one with the heavens? These thoughts race through my head as I head home. Every morning I have my oats with banana slices, some milk, honey and tea on the side, I can never taste the sugar in my tea but anyway, I dress warm, wrap a scarf around my neck and a matching beanie to keep me warm and put my raincoat on and take a walk, there's a road I've discovered that not many use, it's peaceful. I walk along there at my own pace and breath in the humid air that feels so homely yet distant, I wish I could it take with but I just let it lead me.. I don't know where I am going but it doesn't seem foreign, I've been here before, I could swear it on my own grave. I see a couple farm animals to my left, walking around in the early hours of the morning, they look like they've been up for quite sometime, old man there with the animals doing whatever farm people do, he waves. Up the road is a bench, I guess it's a good time to take a break as I've been walking for over 45minutes, I smell coffee .. I can almost taste it but it goes away, these hallucinations are playing with my heart, makes me skip a beat and get lost in something unreal, damn. A slow blink and deep breath, I open my eyes to a tall, athletically built man dressed in a brown sweater that compliments his skin, nicely trimmed beard and dark brown almost black hair, and blue eyes..
He sits opposite me on a bench, with a folded newspaper staring my direction but not quite at me, I pretend to do the same just so I can catch a better glimpse at his gorgeous face, what seems to me like that of generic features, I'm in awe. He smiles, I smile back with a little nod. I know him, why do his eyes look so familiar, his smile makes me feel at home, the warmth of the colors he's wearing and that hair are like the textures of the bed that gives me peaceful dreams, he walks over to me and reaches out for my hand, I can't fathom what his skin might feel like, my nerves, I can barely feel my legs, my heart beating all the way up to the tip of my tongue, if I open my mouth it'll surely pop out and beat in the air, my fingers are shaking uncontrollably, I look at him like a lost baby at the carnival but his eyes invite me to take his hand after all. As I reach for it, the drizzle lessens, the thick humid air becomes thin and airy, the trees and benches become blurry and when I look back at my man, his fingers are slowly fading into the background which is no more, a tear drop runs down my face leaving a trail of warmth.. I open my eyes and I find myself staring at the picture on the wall at the office with my coffee cup in my hand as a man explains the painting to a group of people which he says was inspired by the passing of his beloved wife who loved to visit her parents farm house down south.

I look at the man and he is an exact replica of the man in my visions, I knew I know him, I swore it on my grave, I look to him to offer him my condolences but he doesn't notice me, I step closer and touch his hand but my hand goes right through him, I turn to the mirror and see nothing.

I'm the woman in the painting.

It was all dream.