Mist of his dreams

[The Straight Story]

Mist of his dreams

Eyelids heavy, drifting off
To a darkness
On a cool autumn night
Pillow soft beneath his head
Body warmed, blankets on the bed

Hours pass on encompassed in sleep
Quiet breathing
Then he sees
He dreams

Darkness, and a dream like mist
Gravestones covered in weeds
Wet with the night
Uncontrollably he walks

A woman calls him
Not his name
Not now anyway he thinks
But to that name he responds

She stands alone
Through her he sees a lone headstone
Flowing gown, Victorian in style
As is her stature
She smiles

Dark eyes
Flowing hair
Blown by a wind he does not feel
He stares

The scene changes
Now indoors
A lovely house
Beautifully adorned

She sits in a chair laughing
Smiling
At him
She is sewing
He looks
And she hides it from his view
A mischievous smile
A glint in her eyes
A flash of light
And they are dancing

Love fills his heart
Deep down to his soul
He smiles happily to her
Not knowing anymore that he is dreaming

Now they are outside once again
Walking
Holding hands in the moonlight
Talking
Of their love

Now again the grave
He stands in it alone
Looking down
At her headstone
He starts to cry
Sobbing now
He awakens

Staring at the ceiling
Entranced by a dream
Moved
Somewhere he feels he knows her

A kiss from a woman
And he shakes it off
Cuddles her
Then dresses for work
Just a dream

Part 2

Sitting outside
Smoke break
Leaves rustling
Smoke like a mist drifts
Like the mists of a dream

He watches the hustle and bustle
People coming in and going out
Lunch time
Another day in his life
And he feels empty

Somewhere in his heart he feels it
A tug, deep and hard
For a dream
For her
Who was she?

A face he has never seen
Until last night
But still it seems
He has known her
Knows her

His mind races back to the dream
To her face
Her dress
Her name
Elizabeth

The day carries on
AS does his life
Days go by
Dreams of her come and go

The weekend
Home alone
She is home, Not feeling well
Restless he rustles about
Until night

Recurring dream
He awakens
Something about it
Something he knows

To his closet
On a quest
A hope
To another place of memories
His photo collection


Many trips
Many places of his life
Travels, mostly alone
Boxes of pictures
Albums of memories

Friends past
Family reunions
Parks
States, most all of them

The past flies by him
Only a momentary stop here and there
Some memories tug hard
Smile on his face

Maine
A summer there
Lovely
Pictures, so many of them
One after the other
Then he stops

There
From his dream
His pulse pounding
He stares hard, long
One picture
Small
He shakes

The cemetery
From his dreams
Vivid
For a long time he sits
Numb

Impulsive
He has always been that way
Grabbing some clothes
Camera
The picture

A call to his boss
Emergency out of state
I will be back in a week
Like it or not
Hastily packed
He leaves
For a dream

Part 3

Freedom
From the world
On the road he smiles
His girlfriend thought he was nuts
But she is used to his ways

Hours of driving
Afraid to sleep
To admit to himself
It was all a dream

Somewhere in his mind
He finds hope
Buried deep
Or at least
Wishful thinking

Maine
Mid-day
Driving all over
Trying to remember
It had been years

The day wears on
He gives in to his body
And finds a motel
Sleeps

Dreams
He walks in the cemetery
Calling for her
She comes to him

They talk of things he cannot remember
She shows him something
Her necklace
He had given it to her
She hugs him
Tears in her eyes
In his
He awakens
Daylight

Shaken, crying
He gets up from his bed
His haunted mind shakes off sleep
And he goes
To find
Her

Driving alone
So alone
Searching once again
For his OZ
That special somewhere
Something

He finds it
Near noon, Warm sun
Cool Breeze
Like a dream it appears
He slows
Stops
As does his heart

He sits there for some time
Staring
Not even thinking
Just existing
Hand on the door
It opens

A surreal feeling grips him
A tinge of excitement courses through his veins
And fear
That it is all for nothing

Walking into the Cemetery
Leaves rustling in the wind
No one here
Nothing but the dead
And his life

He stops cold
Memories of a dream
They flood back
Recognizing the layout
Dream of photograph?
Get a grip he thinks

Now he walks
AS he did in his dreams
He sees things
As he saw them
Unswerving he steps
One foot in front of the other
Marching

Marching to his future
Or to her past
Or to insanity
An Angel towers
It’s shadow cast upon the ground
A grave stone

Hers
He can tell it before he gets there
His feet become lead
But still he marches on
To the stone

He stands in front of it now
Kneels down
Angel’s shadow cooling him
Comforting him
A solitary name
And two dates

Elizabeth Franklin
1840-1866
A simple inscription
Nothing more
Bare, like his soul
Into his pocket he reaches
And takes out a single red rose
‘Where are you my love?
He drops it to her grave

Tears come
Memories of the dreams
That look in her eyes
Pleading
Missing him

A voice calls his name
A woman’s voice
Familiar
It breaks through the breeze
He stiffens
A cold chill runs down his spine
His whole body tingles
Shakes

He does not look up
Does not turn around
She speaks his name once more
Tears in his eyes now
Is this too a dream?
God, let it be real

With all his strength he stands
His heart pound fast
Hard
Near weeping he turns
Turns to face
Her

Neither move
She wears a simple dress
Long black flowing hair
Sad eyes
But glad

‘Elizabeth’
He whispers it to himself
She smiles
And walks to him
Neither speak

She reaches to his face slowly
Her eyes lock on his
Intent
Staring deep into him
She touches his face
Cradles it
Cold touch
But a deep warmth reaches his very soul
She whispers to him then
One word
As she stares into him
‘Remember’

Like a flood his mind fills
He is with her
Laughing
Hugging
Now they are crying
She is dressed as in the dream
And now he sees himself
A gray uniform
A musket
A federal hat on his head

He sees her at the train station
Crying
Waving
She fades
Then terror
A battlefield
Pain
Then Darkness

A man drives by
And wonders to himself
Why a man stands alone in the cemetery
Holding the air
Shrugging it off as something sad
He drives on

He steps back from her
And he freezes
He sees right through her now
‘I am waiting for you my prince’
‘Come to me’
‘I miss you’

He falls to his knees sobbing
She wraps her ghost like arms about his head
Cradling him
Cold fingers in his hair
‘I live my sweet’
She backs away and looks down to him
‘Come to me’

‘Where, where are you?’
‘Drive, you will know’
Her sad eyes haunt him
And she is gone

For what seems hours he kneels there
Eyes closed
Crying
Then it hits him
A drive, a despair
A hope
He jumps up
And runs to the car

Driving, and driven
Over hills
Through a small town
Feeling her close to him

Then he sees it
Brakes slam hard
He rips from the car
Shouting
‘I am coming Elizabeth’
And he runs faster then he has
Ever
Into the Hospital

Without asking where she was
He bolts up the steps
To the second floor
Rushing down the hall
He comes to a room

Without stopping
Certain of his heart
He opens the door
And there she lay
His Elizabeth

Tubes, breathing machines
Eyes closed
A nurse by her side
He stops

She had been in a car accident
A coma now
For a month
When the dreams had started

Slowly he walks to her
The nurse leaves them alone
His hands touch her face
Cold
He takes her hand in his
And whispers to her
Through his tears
‘I love you’

His lips meet hers
His tears fall upon her
A gasp
She sucks in air hard
Eyelids flicker
And she stares
AT him

A smile
Eyes fill with her tears
Weak, but strong with love
She pulls her arms up
To him
Forever