The Forever Dream


She dreams of standing in a field of dry knee high grass in a bright sundress, barefoot and brown and beautiful. Closing her eyes she smiles into the breeze and feels the soft brush of wishes against her shoulders and cheeks. Small dandelion dreams born on the wind, brush past her eyelids and catch for a moment on her bottom lip.


As the wind picks up and lifts the hem of her dress, she turns in slow circles, arms outstretched, bright sun raining down on the crown of her head, turning it bright and golden.


When she opens her eyes she sees a bright reflection in the near distance. Like a human divining rod, she smells water and heads in that direction, brushing open hands against heads of wheat grass that tickle her palms.


The river rises up to meet her and changes its course to lie down at her feet. Boarded by rocks, a crystal clear, still pool invites her to shed her clothes. She lifts her arms as the breeze plays against her knees and slides gently up her thighs while the flowered sun dress spills into the grass and takes root.


She bends to pluck a flower from the field of her recent sundress and steps into the water which is cold. She shivers as a chill travels ankle to chest, and she crosses her arms beneath her breasts, but heat follows the chill and leaves her burning.


Sinking into the water, she smiles back at her reflection and softly sighs as hands run up her inner thighs. She is liquid and light and solid and melting; born of earth and water.


Whose hands play against her skin? Whose lips are those? Who is it who pushes her back on the bank of grass, hips in water, sand against the small of her back?


She knows the feel of him but not his form. His voice is familiar but unknown, Rest your feet here against my shoulders, just like that.


Grabbing her hips, he pulls her down to meet him. His lips are a breath away from hers. Her knees are pressed back and open.

Please… she says, I want…


A pause


You want what? He asks.


She wants to say his name, but it’s forbidden. She wants to ask for things that are not hers.


Teasing, he circles his hips, brushes his lips against hers, You can’t ask?


She shakes her head no even as she says, please just…


She gasps when he moves inside her.


The earth softens and welcomes her as she sinks down, down, down.  Warm sunshine against her face, warm earth against her back, warm body pressing in.  She sinks down again.


She cries out, sinking her fingers into the earth as he fills her with the bright promise of new life and gently pulls away. Her eyes flutter shut as warm earth closes around her and the last thing she feels is a kiss.


Her soul is quiet as she lies fertilized and planted, ready to be born again; a child of earth and water.



4 responses to this post.

  1. There are very few people that can write something that makes me squirm in my seat as I read it! You have that amazing talent Katy! The first paragraph brought my Mom’s pasture into my mind, growing up and just running with our ponies in the field. You have a wonderful way of capturing my imagination! This was so well done! I loved it!


    • Thank you, Calvin. I wrote this a few years ago and reworked it for this post. In the beginning, I was thinking of the pastures I used to run through when I was a girl. I spent my days in forests and fields. Anyway, I’m so glad you enjoyed it!


  2. sundresses being my favorite..always. beauty.


    • I love the image of sundresses and nature and my favorite line in this is, “She bends to pluck a flower from the field of her recent sundress…” The idea of the dress taking root in the soil and growing captured me. Anyway, thank you so much for reading, Jeff.


Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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