A lost slumber

II

At first I didn't know what to think of my dreams . At 5 years old having dreams that seemed so vivid confused me .

I tried to get others to listen to me , but they looked at me like I was crazy and kindly said to me , " You have such an active imagination . I bet you're going to be something really creative , aren't you?"

I'd always answer:"no." I didn't want to be like anything they'd suggest. Although the truth of the matter having to live different lives while I slept , allowed me to see different jobs and test them out . It seemed strange but what called out to me was : music . Regardless of my defiance I discovered that I did want a career that was creative . I figured if I was going to have such a vocal career , then I had to get people to listen to what I had to say.

I thought that if all the adults in my life thought I was delusional , then maybe I needed a different audience. But much to my surprise other people thought I was crazy and I heard some whisper , " Is she crazy ?" or "What is wrong with this child?" . In all honesty I started to believe it . Everyone I tried to turn to shut me out , so soon I shut myself out too leaving myself only available to those close to me . Only finding comfort in cartoons and the occasional book .

When I was 7 I had a dream about my grandma's final days . I woke up (as her) tired and alone . Barely able to stand out of bed , I rose to get ready for the day . I walked to the bathroom , looked in the mirror , and clung to the countertop. The reflection in the mirror told me I was fading . My hair was gray and out of control , and I had gotten small and fragile. The bags under my eyes were becoming way too evident to hide, yet I still smiled . It bewildered me that even in this weak state of being, I smiled .

After I finished freshening up , I sat in bed . I was lost in thought trying to figure out what to make for breakfast , when I got a call from my daughter Marcylyne . " Hi mom!" Marcylyne exclaims.

" Hi , Marcy ," I say in a subtle voice resting to get a breath , " How are you ?"

" I'm fine mom ," Marcylyne says , " How is everything at the house ."

"It's as fine as it can be . It's quiet, " I say with a sweetly mournful tone , " but I've been doing a lot of gardening lately . Your brother came by the other day . He said 'the garden looked lovely but that it seemed to outshine the life I have left'."

" Did he?!" Marcylyne says in a surprised tone . " That was rude of him , but you know him , he was always straight forward . But mom are you sure that you're fine?"

" I'm sure . I'm just tired that's all ," I say while my voice trails off , " But how's my grand baby doing ?"

" Celeste?" Marcylyne asks . " That one has been running around with sticky fingers , drawing on walls , sleeping everywhere but her bed , and letting her imagination run wild ."

" Quite the trouble maker she seems ," I say, taking another pause , " Reminds me of you ."

" Hey!" Marcylyne shouts a bit flustered . " I wasn't that bad . Seriously though you should hear what stories she's been coming up with."

" Oh yeah? Well maybe I should hear one later today ?" I suggest.

" Maybe," Marcylyne says , " Maybe we'll stay for a few days too."

" That'd be great ," I say ," Don't keep me waiting . I'm going to make breakfast okay?"

" Okay," Marcylyne says , " Stay safe and have a good day . Okay mom?"

"Okay, It'd be better if I could see my grandbaby ," I say cheekily .

" Well," Marcylyne says , " We'll see if we can make your day better."