A Dream Upon A Siesta

I know now why people shouldn't take an afternoon sleep like the Spanish do. Not only it will screw up their night's sleeps, but it will also screw up their minds. Well, mine, to say the least.

While waiting for the clock to strike 2, so that I could leave for Le Festival du Cinema Francais, I fell asleep upon watching some crap on TV. Not until 5 minutes afterwards, I dreamt about J. It's funny that when I left him, I thought it wouldn't be this hard to move on to my next best thing. But I was wrong. This thing never gets any easier.

I reckoned in the dream we were at some tropical place, for the sun was shining brightly and there were green grass and trees around. I was in my white summer dress and a wide fuschia hat like those of worn by the ladies of British royal members at polo games or when having a tea party with the Queen at the rose garden of Buckingham Palace. I was standing at a wooden balcony when I saw J - in his peach colored Lacoste polo shirt - sitting in a chair under a luscious tree. He waved at me enthusiastically as if trying to make me see him.

I, of course, saw him but I didn't know why I looked away and pretended not to see him, while all I wanted to do was wave back at him and run with all my might to where he was and throw myself into his arms. Something held me back. My ankles seemed to be chained with a pair of heavy, black stones used by Pirates to drown any crew members trying to do a mutiny. So I just turned my back and walked away from the balcony.

And I woke up in tears. I guess I just missed him. And since I couldn't do anything about it, the longing went to my subconscious and appeared in a form of a dream.

THIS, is never easy.