Eulogy of a Dream

I was standing in my Grandmother's kitchen, my Father’s Mother. It was as it normally is; bright and welcoming. A glossy white oven ebbed with warmth. Natural daylight seeped in through the windows that were thoughtfully placed on either side. The house itself was built by my grandfather; his hands rough, built a place so soft; a home. I hadn’t thought much of my sudden presence there. I had no notion that this was merely a dream... yet.

The chairs in the kitchen, usually full, were home to different company this day. Not strangers, as those were welcome from far and wide. No, in one seat was my Mothers Father, Charlie. He sat there with a smile that was memorable to anyone that has laid eyes on him, a smile keen on trickery misdeeds. He wasn’t alone though, my cousin was there as well, his Grandson. Yet he wasn’t there. It’s as if I recognized that his presence filled the room but merely as a ghost or a puff of smoke. He was undistinguishable, only for his shape and size. My cousin was in tumultuous joy as he expressed to my grandfather his luck with the recent lotto numbers. He won the Jackpot. Only he couldn’t have, not for real. This would be too kind a karma for my Grandfather who was burdened with the task of raising him.

A voice I can’t recall calls me upstairs. Sarah is in my Grandmother's house, but I’m not told this, I simply know. I make my way up the stairs that my Grandfather built, only they weren’t the same, they were different in some way. I hear mumblings to my left. Through a crack in the door I see the whole room, she has her back to me. No, she is sideways looking at her new fix, jealousy and guilt overcome me. I can see her shape but not her face, it is a blur to me. I know it is her hair. I can not say if I disappear into another room or if I enter the one she is in. We don’t cross paths here; I am simply in a room, and she is not there.

In this room there is someone I know. Beth is her name, although I don’t understand why, we never spoke much in school. I become more confused as to why she is in my Grandmother's house. She points me to the window that is now a balcony. It does not exist, but it is there. On the balcony is my friend Jessica, she has shown me great compassion in the past and has even introduced me to summer lovers of which I am most grateful. Here though, she stands smoking a cigarette, no words are exchanged before I hear a door shut and then a paced traversal of steps. I immediately leave the room, the same room that Sarah was in.

At the top of the steps, I peer down to the landing that doesn’t exist but is there. I see her in all her beauty. She stands there shoeless, pale glowing legs gently kissed by the soft hem of a summer white sundress. The same dress she wore to prom but shorter, matured. I speak her name questioningly from the top of the stairs. She turns candidly and looks up at me. Her green eyes, dotted with dark impurities and framed with black mascara. Her braid lay sleepily across her chest; emblazoned by white flowers and silver gems. Her freckles bounce across her nose and cheeks sweetly as she opens her mouth to speak--