Meeting A Dream


She was a prisoner like me, wrapped in invisible chains wrought out of bills, greed and indecision: both the writer and victim of her life history, for none of which she accepted any responsibility. She had a beauty which cuts through complacency, and a smile which unlocks the heart of almost any man. I was “almost any man” I found out later as she walked into my life bringing no answers with her.

I knew that when I first met her: I was much the same as her, trapped in a world of my own making marked by shrinking opportunity. She drank a bit and smoked with rare defiance so even though I did not smoke myself I took to carrying a lighter so our eyes could meet over its flame. I think she knew I liked her and I think she knew we were the same, but I had little to offer her then but admiration, so was added to her list of possible diversions.

I met her in the company of friends, and she saw in me a quality of perception hidden within a lack of social standing. On a whim she conferred her intimacies on me for one night only, though I dreamed she would love me always. She briefly thought I was her bus ride out of hell which I was not but, regardless, she has now left this earth forever.

How do I remain here now without the hope of seeing her? I’ve been “aware” for far too long already, walking among the civilised half-dead, living their customs and showing courtesy to all, but I am tired of that now. The powers of womanhood or manhood are extraordinary but we have sought to make everything ordinary and safe and harnessed, starting with ourselves, so that primitive magic I saw in her eyes is seldom visible elsewhere.

She is gone and the world I walk through is still hiding behind its timetables and furniture and dreams of cultured conduct and looking for answers everywhere but in its heart. She is gone yet I am here with nothing to contemplate but my ongoing chaos, and man’s unfounded dreams of order.

About Peter Wells aka Countingducks

Trying to remember what my future is
This entry was posted in character, creative writing, Fiction, Peter Wells, Romance and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to Meeting A Dream

  1. beth says:

    a tragic loss of self

    Like

  2. Al says:

    “Carrying a lighter so our eyes could meet over the flame…” proof that writing does not have to be lewd to be sexy. You’re the maestro, Peter.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Hoog says:

    Excellent. Written with depth of feeling and understanding. “Looking for answers everywhere but in its heart.” So true. x

    Like

  4. nelle says:

    Love this one. We tend to look at the past and do the ‘what if’ thing. He’ll find his way.

    Like

  5. susankgray says:

    Wow, that was really good.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Robin says:

    Your words Peter…brings me right into the heart of the matter. Another brilliant piece!

    Like

  7. Jack Eason says:

    Well done Peter – ten out of ten…

    Like

  8. Jack Eason says:

    Reblogged this on Have We Had Help? and commented:
    Another delightful story from Peter…

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.