I open my eyes to fragrant crimson flowers, scattered over the crisp white sheets that encase me. I am shaded from the early morning sun by a veranda, entwined with the vines that gifted me the fallen flowers. A salty sea breeze reminds me that I’m far from home, on an Island in the Aegean. Hot coffee in a copper carafe is set on a long table covered with a white linen table cloth that billows with the breeze. This is just another morning in the life of twenty two year old me…then I am assaulted by a loud buzzing. I try to ignore it, but I remember my job. I open my eyes to find I’m middle aged me, with the responsibilities that come with age. I force myself out of bed to let the dogs out.
I think about my dream…it is a real memory. The veranda was part of a youth hostel on the island of Corfu. The group I was traveling with comprised of my sister and two cousins. The hostel was full, so the overseer set up cots out on the veranda and charged us only $7. each, because we had to sleep outside. It was a small price to pay for the memory. It was a reprieve from the obligatory family visits in a small village, a three day vacation from the four week family vacation.
Dreaming is a solitary venture, and to dream of people and places of the past is to wake up disappointed with the reality of the day ahead.
Why can’t I dream I’m a potato, so that when I wake up I feel relief, and appreciation that I don’t have to put in eight contact lenses?
May 23, 2016, One Word Daily Post: Dream~ <a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/fairytale/”>Dream</a>