Awakened - Chapter 1

Laurel stood in the kitchen staring out the window, watching two hummingbirds flit about the feeder as she filled the sink with water for her next load of dishes. Chores were not an issue for Laurel, but cleaning the kitchen was not one of her favorites. Like all the others, she made it a part of her daily routine. She liked to have everything clean and in its proper place when she got up in the mornings.

As Laurel stared out the window, she began to feel the weight of the day come down on her shoulders. She had many things that needed her attention, for her list was long. Her husband, Christoph had tucked himself away in his office and was working on some project for his work that she really did not care to know about. Standing here at the counter, watching the bird feeder, had its peaceful, relaxing undertones that would help her gather her thoughts for the rest of the day.

The house was more or less quiet for a change. No kids were yelling in the background and no blaring televisions or music. If she stood real still and turned the water off, Laurel could hear the flutter of the hummingbirds’ wings as they fed on the feeder. Laurel turned to the counter beside her and picked up her iPod. She set the playlist for shuffle and inserted it into the clock radio that she had sitting on the other side of the kitchen. Music always helped to move the job along, and it made her happy.

Pressing play, her iPod began. "Love Game," by Lady Gaga blared through the speakers; not her most favorite song, but it will do in a pinch. Sliding back over to the sink, she began to bounce and move to the music as she started washing the load of dishes. Lady Gaga always brought a swing into her step as she blocked the world out, washing dishes.

The iPod continued to play as Laurel continued to wash more dishes. The shuffle would bring a couple of upbeat songs and then a slower one, creating a nice mix for the job. As the next song came on, Christoph could hear the music from his office. Curious, he quietly stepped from his office and poked his head into the kitchen where he saw Laurel dancing to the music as she washed the dishes. He leaned against the doorjamb and grinned as songs like, "Something in Your Mouth" by Nickelback and "I Touch Myself" by the Divinyls played.

Christoph always loved watching Laurel get into her groove as she worked. She had a gracefulness and charm as she moved that he enjoyed watching. As he stood there watching her sway and bounce to the music, he tried to remember the last time he stopped to take in her beauty and charm. The years of work and family responsibilities seemed to consume his days. Today was no different when it came to his work. However, standing there watching her sway to the music in her pale blue cotton sundress seemed to distract him. There was something about how she wore that dress and how it swayed to her movements that intrigued and excited him. Her sleek black hair, dark skin, and spunky personality made everything more exotic and pleasurable to him.

The song changed on the iPod and began playing "Run" by Snow Patrol. Laurel's mood seemed to adjust to the music. She stood there for a moment, staring out the window whilst the song played. Slowly, she began to sway to the music.

Drawn to the words of the song and the music, Christoph walked up to Laurel, drew in closely, spooning himself behind her as she continued to sway. Leaning into her, he breathed in Laurel's spicy yet intoxicating scent, and then placed a chaste kiss on her neck. Laurel's heart fluttered. She leaned her head back to rest on his chest, closed her eyes, and smiled. This was a nice change in Laurel's routine. It brought back so many great memories. "Mmm, this is nice," she said softly.

Christoph picked up quickly on Laurel's rhythm, and they began to sway to the song together. He leaned in once again and made a trail of chaste kisses from Laurel's shoulder to the bottom of her ear where he gently took her earlobe into his mouth and sucked. Laurel shuddered with pleasure. Feeling his breath, lips, and mouth on her neck made her skin tingle.

The song changed once again, this time Janet Jackson sang, "Nasty Boy." Laurel began to press into Christoph. He worked himself against Laurel as she moved. Laurel then reached up with her right arm and grabbed Christoph's left shoulder, turning herself into him, never losing contact with his body or a step to the beat. This excited Christoph very much as he continued to grind himself into Laurel. Carefully, yet firmly, he moved his knee between her legs allowing her to straddle him in the dance. Their dancing turned into a fluid movement of one body bumping while the other pressed into the other.

Laurel watched as Christoph put one arm around her waist and the other hand on her chest. He gently nudged her into a backward dip as he ran his hand down her body from neck to stomach. Laurel swayed backward over Christoph's arm, following his lead as she pressed herself into his leg. She lost herself to the music and Christoph's touch. Her skin tingled everywhere he touched, almost as if this was their first touch. Her skin rippled with goosebumps, and her nipples began to harden in anticipation as his fingers grazed the tops of her breasts.

Laurel came back up into Christoph's embrace. Both feeling the euphoria they had created in their dance, Christoph leaned in and found Laurel's lips and began to kiss her with more fervor. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth as he kissed her. Opening her mouth, a gasp escaped and their mouths found the momentum they both sought.

Lost in the moment, Christoph picked Laurel up by the waist and placed her on the counter top. As they kissed, he reached under her dress, sliding his hands slowly up her legs. Laurel startled for it had been so long since a flare of unkempt spontaneity enveloped them. She pulled back briefly, glimpsed Christoph, and gave him a coy smile. She wondered for just a moment whether this was just a tease or if Christoph would seriously continue this adventure. She hoped the latter.

Laurel loved Christoph’s straight dark brown tresses. She noticed that today he had pulled them back into a ponytail that exposed the scruff on his face. She loved when he let his beard grow for a few days before shaving. It gave him that rugged ruffian look that excited her naughty side. Seeing him right now was even sexier. He wore a white linen shirt, which had been unbuttoned down to his navel, exposing his beautifully sculpted tan chest. He had his sleeves rolled up to the elbows and fit loosely around his shoulders. His tan chinos fit nicely around his ass and had the cuffs turned up exposing his tan bare feet.

Laurel smiled with satisfaction as she looked deeply into his dark chocolate brown eyes. She reached into his shirt and began drawing trails over his already exposed chest. She made sure to trace every muscle, ridge, and bump of his chest and abdomen. Her touch caused his skin to flush and tingle. Laurel enjoyed watching as his nipples harden from her touch.

She continued her trail down to the last button still fastened on his shirt. Unfastening it, his shirt fell freely to his sides. Continuing the same trail, she proceeded to unbuckle and remove his belt. Next, she reached down to unzip his pants slowly and gingerly, making sure that he could feel her hand running down his length.

Christoph gasped, grinding himself into her hand. Laurel slid her hands back up to his chest, pushing his shirt from his shoulders. With his chest now completely exposed, she leaned into him and slowly began to kiss his chest. Approaching his nipple, she flicked her tongue over his nipple, sucked it into her mouth, and gently nibbled around it causing him to moan.

Christoph took Laurel's face in his hands and brought her up to his mouth. He kissed her long and hard, deepening his enthusiasm. His kisses traveled down her neck to her shoulder. Pushing the straps of her dress off her shoulders, he continued his trail of kisses until his lips found her breast. He flicked his tongue over her hard nipple and felt her shiver. He grinned to himself, knowing that his tongue aroused her. Placing his mouth over her nipple, he sucked and rolled his tongue across the top.

He reached under her dress, between her legs, grabbed her now very wet panties, and without haste ripped the crotch from them. He looked up into Laurel's eyes, grinned and said, "Oops, guess I'll have to buy you a new set." Laurel giggled and grabbed Christoph around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. As she kissed him again, Christoph let his pants fall to the floor, then reached under Laurel's ass, and squeezed. Laurel's breath caught as she looked down to see his very ready erection.

Laurel grinned; pointed with her eyes, and whispered, "Is that for me?"

Christoph laughed at her and said, "Why don't you slide over here and see." With that, he pulled her toward himself, sliding her to the edge of the counter. Gently, he pushed himself between her legs, slowly teasing her wet opening. Laurel's body began to buck as her desire for him heightened. All she wanted was for him to penetrate her.

Wrapping her legs around him, she began to gyrate, pushing herself onto Christoph. Raising and lowering her hips to his movement, she yearned, even panted for more of him.

Holding her ass tightly, he thrust his swollen member firmly and swiftly into her core. With a scream of pure ecstasy, Laurel could no longer contain herself. Her body gave away her delight as it bucked to his thrust. Fiercely, Christoph dug his nails into Laurel's ass and began pounding into her core, deepening his push each time.

As Christoph continued to push deeper, the head of his shaft hammered into the back of her core sending Laurel rolling into a bone-shattering orgasm. The pain of his nails dug deeply into her ass and the constant aggressive pounding exhilarated and excited Laurel. She turned the pain into ecstasy and realized she really liked it.

Sweat now coated Christoph's chest and brow, telltale signs he was nearing his climax. He slowed his thrust, allowing Laurel to feel every bit of his manhood as he thrust in and out. Laurel came again, screaming, “YES!!!” Laurel pursued Christoph more aggressively now by pumping herself on his cock. The tight pressure that Laurel's legs created around his waist while she pumped and her breasts pressed into his sweat-coated chest brought moans howling from Christoph's mouth. One last pump and thrust was his undoing as he climaxed and folded into Laurel.

Collapsing into each other's arms, completely spent, they each tried to catch their breath.

Both began to giggle softly as the reality of what just happened caught up with them. Taking Laurel's face in his hands once more, Christoph looked into her eyes and whispered softly, "Laurel, you are the most beautiful and charming person. I love you." He leaned in, finding Laurel’s mouth once again. Laurel felt his passion as his kiss lingered and became more intense before he finally released her.

Napkin Scrawl #16 - I'm Sorry

How does one say, “I’m sorry” when all you have are words? You cannot express yourself with facial expressions, audible voice, trinkets, or touch, just written words.

Words written, put me where I am today. Words written, sunk deeply into the heart and mind of the ones I love. Words written to mean one thing may have been misstated or misunderstood. How does one make right what has been said?

Feelings, emotions, were the driving force behind the words. Did they speak out the correct meaning? Tears, sadness, loneliness, and rejection make one say things they do not mean. So often, we allow our emotions to speak before our brains kick in. Yet, when our emotions well up inside and everything comes to a head, don’t you wish you could clearly choose to hold your tongue until the dust settles? Sometimes the emotion stirs like a tornado and you speak out, hoping that you can throw the anchor out to find that one person who can anchor you.

Once the dust settles, the guilt presses in. Guilt makes one think unclearly too. In an effort to right wrongs said, we often tend to offend the ones we love.

Also, can you tell me, why do we often feel that negative emotions must bring us to a point of admitting that we should no longer be in this world? Am I so weak that I need to threaten the end to life just to feel better? Death is not the answer. Life is to be lived, WITH all its difficulties. What is it Friedrich Nietzsche said? “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.”

Now my words have been read and my pain subsided. Now I feel I have lost you. Perhaps it is just me, but I feel distance between us. How can I recover what we once had?

My hope is that “I’m sorry” is enough because that is all I have. Moreover, thank you for being there when my tornado blew through.

Thank you for being my anchor.

Napkin Scrawl #15 - Rude Awakenings

Although the last couple of days have been, to say the least, depressing, I have great hopes for today. I spent the better part of yesterday and last night, rapt in my own creative juices, steeping in fun, good times. It helped to let go of what ever it was that seemed to bring me down over the past days. Last night, when I finally reached my limits and required sleep, I felt as if I had accomplished something. I knew this night was going to be restful.

Morning always seems to come so quickly, especially on the nights where you sleep all the way through without disruption. However, this morning I wasn’t awakened by alarms or husband. No, Jasper, our German Shepherd mutt woke us with a start as he attempted to vomit up what he had eaten the day before. Yes, you are right, disgusting! However, that’s not the end of my story… nope, there’s more.

Jasper is about eighteen or nineteen months old. He is still very much a pup. Albeit very well behaved and housebroken. He is a house-dog who sleeps in my room and sometimes thinks he belongs between my husband and me as we sleep. Often he decides that cuddling is meant for him as well and he’ll hop up onto our bed and attempt to cuddle with us should the notion arise.

One thing Jasper loves is to tear things apart. A dog toy might last a week with him if we’re lucky. However, we found out one day, that Jasper loves those cardboard tubes that you get after using a roll of paper towels or toilet paper. He takes them and shreds them into confetti. He knows them by the name “festive tubes”, which my husband so fondly named.

Lately, Jasper has sprinkled the house with confetti. Where he gets these tubes is beyond me. What a completely festive dog!

When Jasper gets a bit over zealous with his toys or tubes, he ends up eating some of it. That is when we get the rude awakening of him trying to bring up whatever it was that he ate the day before.

Now, we’ve become really good at hearing these random sounds and wake quite easily to run him outside before he actually retrieves whatever is in his stomach. This is my husband’s job because I don’t glide down the stairs quite as elegantly as he.

This morning was a bit more of a challenge. We heard the vomitus sounds and as usual jumped out of bed and rushed Jasper outside. However, when the husband returned, there was an unpleasant odor in the room. After accusing each other of the stench, I later realized the Jasper decided not to wake us in the middle of the night to tell us he needed to be taken outside. Usually, this sort of urgency doesn’t happen, unless he’s been eating the wrong, well shall we say, foods.

I was left alone to find the culprit stench. Yes, you guessed it, the mother lode was in my walk-in closet. I stood there staring at this pile wondering why it didn’t find my husband’s athletic bag, shoes, or his pants that he threw to the floor. No, he hit the middle of the closet room floor.

Why is it that we women are always on cleanup duty? When baby poops his diaper, we get the cleanup, spit up, again we get the cleanup. When DOG vomits, pees, or soils the carpet, we get the cleanup. Where's the fairness in that! I guess men are wimps and just don’t have the stomach. Well, you guessed it, I got cleanup!

Yes, this was my morning wake up call!

Napkin Scrawl #14 - Angels Among Us

As a child, I seemed to be afraid of everything. The first fears I recollect were legitimate. I grew up when a notorious killer was on the loose and had serious nightmares of him. I woke many nights screaming because in my dreams he had killed my parents and was after my little brother. In my dream, blood was everywhere. The killer chased after my brother and me… and in the end, the part that made me scream, I watched him capture and kill my little brother.

I was one of those who, before bed, had a ritual. I would check under my bed and in my closet, looking for someone, anyone who could be hiding there. I shudder to think of what I would have done had I found someone. Once I found that all was clear, the closet door had to remain open all night, but I was set and ready for lights out. My parents would close our bedroom door every night, which compounded the darkness and my fears.

Too many nights, I would lay in bed, wide-eyed, searching the darkness for shadows. My imagination would run rampant; I would hear noises in the night. Finally, only from pure exhaustion, I would fall to sleep.

One night, I woke screaming. I had had one of my worst nightmares. It still sits in my memory decades later. On that night, my mother brought a bible opened it to some random page, placed it in my headboard and told me that Angels were there in my room watching over me. The Angels would protect me from any more bad dreams and they would keep the shadows away. I clung to that thought and fell fast asleep.

In fact, it was that thought that helped me through many of my fears. Even today, as a grown adult, I fear the darkness and I fear being alone. Call me crazy if you must, but those Angels are always here. They always help to ease my mind.

I think this is when the concept of Angels watching over me became reality in my life.

Now, I see that Angels come in different forms. Not only do they watch over me as I sleep, but they show themselves in forms as friends. I speak to them every day. They have an uncanny ability to know when I am down or just need an ear to listen. Although they are not physically with me, I feel their arms around me when I find that I need a hug. They reach out for me when I have become silent. Or just stop by to chat.

Oft times, I must admit, I feel as though I may burn my Angels out with my mood swings and fears. However, one day, an Angel asked me, “Do you tire from being leaned on by others? You see,” continued my Angel, “You are an Angel to many, including me. Do you tire of us?”

Of course, I’ve never thought of myself as an angel. However, I replied from my heart with a reverberating NO! “You see,” I explained, “I understand the emotions all too well and therefore feel the need to be there whenever needed. I love to help a friend in need. If I lift a friend's spirits, or help to calm their savage beast just a little, I feel complete.”

My Angel smiled at me, or at least I imagined so, I could see it as she typed. “Then why do you think any less of us? We love to help you when you need it and we feel complete when we’ve lifted your spirits, or calmed your savage beast.”

“I can’t help but worry that you’ll tire of me and leave.” I replied.

That is when I realized that there are different types of angels. Some only touch our lives but for a moment as they move on to the place where they are most useful. Others, fall into our lives, never to leave. There aren’t many that stay, but when they do, it is so nice to know they are always there no matter what.

I wonder if Angels tire of us asking them if they tire of us. If I were an Angel, I would always answer no. Are all angels the same?

I am so thankful for the Angels in my life!

Napkin Scrawl #13 - Paranoid

Every morning is the same. I wake, check my phone for messages, get up, and head to the bathroom. It seems a bit mundane, this ritual of sorts. But, routine helps a blurry-eyed work-a-holic who spends too many hours awake.

My bathroom dons a wall-sized mirror, passage to a walk in closet, see through shower doors, and of course the water closet. I can traverse this room with my eyes closed, which I tend to do most days.

Today like every other day, I leave a trail of clothing from my bed to the bathroom. I walk into the bathroom, start the shower, and then brush my teeth. While my brush is in my mouth and toothpaste runs down my chin, my imagination gives me a stir. Suddenly I feel as if someone is watching me. My heart races as I look around the room. No one is there but me. Taking in a deep breath, I calm myself and continue brushing my teeth.

Steam fills the room, the mirror fogs. There it is again. The hair on the back of my neck pricks up. I sense someone is watching me. I look around the room, but see only my own reflection in the mirror. What a strange and irksome feeling. I think to myself, “I must be paranoid. There is nobody here.” I shake my head as if trying to shake a tangible feeling from my mind.

As I walk toward the shower, I turn the fan on to clear the steam. There are two fans in my bathroom, so I use them both. “Oh. My. God,” I think to myself. My mind runs rampant with paranoid thoughts of hidden cameras. I look in the fan cages, under the sink, or anywhere else that I can think. Tugging on the mirror, I find that it is securely glued to the wall. The only way to check behind it is to break the mirror. Each day I consider this possibility.

Water still running and now very hot, I step into the shower and try to ignore my paranoia. One last place I need to check, I look down the shower drain. I feel so exposed right now behind the clear glass doors. I stand in the hot stream of water trying to relax. Breathe in breathe out. “Relax, there’s now one here but you.” I tell myself.

The water melts away the worry and my mind is once again at peace. I laugh at myself for the stupidity. Boy, do I feel stupid.

Shower done, water is off. I step out of the shower and retrieve my towel. This time I hear a sound. I gasp! What the hell was that? I quickly wrap my towel around me. The mirror now completely fogged up. The fans both are running. Perhaps I just hear the fan. Curious.

Drying off quickly, I exit my bathroom to get dressed. “Perhaps I need therapy,” I say to myself while I search for clothes to wear. “Or maybe next time I’ll bring a screwdriver and a rock.”

Some days are not so bad. I follow the same routine, but instead of fearing what probably is not there, I speak loudly and say, “It’s your eyes… don’t blame me for what you see!” I laugh and continue with my daily routine.

Napkin Scrawls #12 - My Best Friend

My Best Friend

I meet new people everyday,

Who easily call me friend.

Cordially we jest, fritter, and obsess;

And just as quickly we move on,

Our lives remain the same.

One day, we met by chance,

I figured you the same.

In and out so quickly

Jesting, obsessing, and frittering life away.

But on that fateful day

You stepped into my life,

You saw something I could never see

A friend who would hold on tight.

You saw through the many masks of me,

And understood what made me tick.

Feeling broken and insecure

Your friendship shows me strength.

Reaching out you showed me kindness.

With a bond I cannot explain;

Our friendship has grown deep,

Perhaps you are the other half of me.

We’ve never touched or seen each other

Yet you always seem to know when I am sad

By the keystrokes, I invoke.

Just me on this side and you over there.

Our souls just connect.

You will always be

My best friend forever.

Napkin Scrawls #11 - Blank Emotion

Swirling, swirling, swirling. Flailing, flitting, whirling. My thoughts escape me. Fleeting, flitting, scampering away. Not one remains. Panic ensues as I sit here grasping for a memory, a thought, anything. But, nothing stays.

There is nothing behind the eyes. No thought, no emotion, blank. Exhaustion fills me.

All is at a loss as I stare blankly before me.

A tear emerges, spilling over the blank face, leaving a trail of moisture as it falls. And then, another.

Music on, eyes now closed, music fills me now with it’s own emotion. Soft swirling, emotion fills my mind as the strings strum, the keys pound, the horns blare. Like a shot in the arm or an electric current, my heart begins to pound… I take a breath. And then, another.

Life emerges as music promotes new emotion.

Breathe in breathe out.

Is it enough? Will it carry me through the day? Only time can tell.

No longer completely blank, I look to you for happy joyful thoughts. Something, anything to hold life for me, as I continue through my day.

Tiredness still abounds, but sadness is fleeting now. It’s time to catch a second wind in the sails of my day.

Napkin Scrawl #10 - Remember When...

As I stand in my shower, my fortress of solitude if you will, my memory is a flood of “Remember Whens.” Who knows why this topic astounds me…

Remember when…

You woke to the sound your little brother crawling to the bathroom because he couldn’t walk with his braces on his feet? The braces were to help straighten his knees, but you laugh because he still runs like Forest Gump.

Remember when…

You kissed a boy on the school bus when in Kindergarten. First love of your life, first kiss besides your mother. Kenny, never could put his shoes on the correct feet.

Remember when…

You and your brother collected toads and kept them in the milk box outside on the porch. The milkman hated us that day when he delivered milk and freed the toads.

Remember when…

The neighbor twins came over to play with said toads and decided to see if toads flew. Mom was not happy to have toad splat on her roof.

Remember when…

At six years old, your family picked up stakes and moved to a place where you knew nobody. Sucked!

Remember when…

After moving into new home, neighbor girls came over to meet you. They didn’t care for your brother too much … which was fine because neither did you.

Remember when…

While at Oma’s ranch, Opa was milking cows when you and your brother decided to run through the troughs. The cows were not too pleased with the interruption and Opa didn’t care for getting kicked.

Remember when…

You took matches into a dry field, next to a creek, with your brother. That was fun until the retired fireman/farmer came and insisted upon frisking us because he KNEW I had matches. Lucky for me, our Aunt and Uncle arrived in the nick of time.

Remember when…

You got so sick of your brother that you threw darts at him when he wasn’t looking. *evil grin*

Remember when…

The darts stuck in him.

Remember when…

You threw a broom at your brother and Mom saw the hole in the wall… Oops.

Remember when…

You thought it was cool to cuss… but now you can’t because it speaks your emotions on so many levels.

Remember when…

You stood up to the class bully because he was picking on your best friend. Thanks Mom for teaching me how to kick between the legs. He never looked at me the same.

Remember when…

You played “Truth or Dare” and “Dare” was what all the boys would pick for you.

Remember when…

You played “Truth or Dare” you always picked “Dare” once for them and “Truth” the rest of the time, because we all know that once you’ve seen it, you don’t need to see it again.

Remember when…

You met your trumpet teacher and all you could do was stare at his lips.

Remember when…

You took your trumpet teacher out to dinner. He wouldn’t ask you, so you made the first move.

Remember when…

You and your trumpet teacher got married and while on the first night of your honeymoon, you got a crank call whilst in the throws of passion.

Remember when…

Nine years later, your first son was born. And almost two years after that, your second arrived.

Hmm, the memories do astound me…

Napkin Scrawl #9 - 25-Years

Sleep, sleep is all I want. So peaceful, so calm, so… nothing.

Waking only brings sadness. Waking brings loneliness. Waking brings duty.

Maybe there is more in sleep than I remember. Maybe there is no sadness, loneliness, or responsibility. In my sleep, you are always there beside me.

Today should be a happy day, a day to rejoice, and a day to celebrate our love. But, its not. It’s just another day, full of a list of things to be done. I’m tired.

I awaken to find you missing. I know where you’ve gone, but I need you. I miss your touch, your warm embrace. I miss your kisses.

Has time brought us to this impasse? Has responsibilities brought us to never touch again? Are we so old that assumption is our best friend?

I miss you. I miss how you once looked at me. I miss that I was once the center of your world. Am I still?

You have seen me cry and you have made me laugh. You are my lifeline when things grow dark. You have seen me raw and afraid. You have been my strength, my comfort. You have always been mine. My true love.

The years have grown on us, changed us I fear. But, deep inside, I’m still the same. Inside I am just a young girl needing love and acceptance. The years have only buried deep that young girl, protected her from hurt and disappointment. The years have buried deep that young girl in bittersweet memories and what-ifs.

I cry tears of sadness and joy thinking of you. I miss you. I love you.

Young love, come back to me. Shed that chrysalis that protects your heart. Burn brightly once again.

This day so many years ago, I made a commitment to you my love. To have and to hold, to love, honor, and obey through sickness and in health, for richer or poorer. These words still hold strong in my heart!

The years are a blur, but never once have I regretted saying those words. You have stayed by my side through it all. I smile because that, in and of itself, shows your commitment to me.

Today, reminded again of my commitment to you, I ponder renewing it once again. The vows don’t fade. They don’t lose their strength of binding. But, I renew them in my heart and mind to you.

Come back to us young love. Show us newness, a fresh rekindling of our love.

Touch me, embrace me, and kiss me once again, my love. Show me once again why I no longer want to sleep.

I love you.

Napkin Scrawl #8 - Dream

I woke one morning to a dream. I don’t know where I was exactly… the house was unfamiliar. I remember the dream started with my husband entering the room. I had the feeling he had just come back from camping, fishing, or some other outdoorsy over night outing. He was dirty and in desperate need of a shower. But I was very glad to see him.

As my husband came into the room, I asked him where our youngest son was. He had gone with my husband but not returned… at least, not yet.I missed him immensely and wanted to hear all about his adventures with his dad.

My husband turned to me and explained that something terrible had happened. Apparently, our son had an accident of which my husband was responsible. He explained that he had accidentally killed our son and buried him at the cabin where they stayed. He hugged me and then apologized.

Of course, I was extremely upset. I was all a jumble of emotions, anger, sadness, fear and disbelief. I couldn’t believe that my husband, father of our son, would have first, killed our son, and second, been so nonchalant about the whole thing. I was hysterical!

“What do you mean?” I screamed. “How could he be dead? Are you sure? What did you do to him? Where did you leave him? Did you check his pulse?”

My husband replied, “Well, I kicked him in the butt for doing something stupid and he fell into a pile on the floor. It looked as if I had broken his neck. I saw no life in him at all! I didn’t know what to do.”

“Did you check his pulse, was he breathing?” I asked.

“Well, yeah, I checked.”

I wasn’t convinced. I sensed that he didn’t do a thorough job at any of it. I couldn’t understand why someone so intelligent would be so ‘Ho-hum’ about killing his own son, whether on purpose or accidentally. “Where did you leave him? Did you bury him?” I asked frantically.

He went on to explain that he had buried him up at the cabin where they stayed. I was desperate. I begged him to take me up to the cabin so I could check myself. I had to know for sure! I had to see my dead son’s face!

The dream moved on and strangely, time went by.

We arrived at the cabin and I leapt out of the car and ran to the cabin door. Strangely, as dreams go, my husband was ahead of me. He led me to the laundry room out on the back porch, where he hefted the washing machine gently out of the way. Under the washing machine was a mound about a head’s height above the rest of the ground and about as wide as the machine’s base. It seemed really strange to see where he had buried my son. “How could you bury him here under the washing machine? What were you thinking?” I said in a deranged huff.

I fell to my knees next to the pile of dirt. (Yes, this was a cabin and it had a dirt floor.) I looked up to my husband with tears streaming down my face. I begged him to tell me if he really believed that our son was dead. He gave me no verbal answer, but a shrug of his shoulders as if to say, “I don’t know.”

I laid my head down on the dirt mound. I tried listening for something, anything, as if I would hear something through the dirt. Wait! What was that I heard? No! It couldn’t be! I looked up again, and then put my ear back down on the dirt. I heard snoring! What the HELL?! SNORING? No way! “Listen!,” I said freakishly, “I hear snoring, breathing!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing!

I began digging, moving all the earth from the mound as fast as I could, but carefully! An arm popped out… and then there was my son’s head. His eyes were closed in that angelic sleepy way. I knew he was just sleeping. I continued digging. I dug until I found his shoulders and then I began gently pulling him upwards, out of this hole that he was in. As I pulled him out, he was unclothed. I thought that was strange because I knew that my son never ran around naked. I remember wondering why my husband had stripped him of his clothing to bury him… how strange!

As I pulled him out, he awoke with a look of relief and a smile on his face. I held him in my arms as I sat there on the ground. All I could do was wrap myself around him and tell him that I loved him. He hugged my neck and said, “Mommy, I knew you would come! I was scared and couldn’t breathe, but I knew you would come!”

I turned to my husband and asked, “How long has he been here?”

“About a week,” he said.

“A week! What were you thinking? He couldn’t breathe, he’s had no water! HOW…” and I went back to comforting my son.

I awoke from my dream… Strangely, I had no animosity toward my husband. I just got up out of bed and went off to my son’s bedroom. I woke him when I picked him up to hug him. I cuddled him as if afraid I would lose him if I didn’t hold him tight.

Dreams are strange... What can I say?