The Dream

    It was a place of peace. Quiet. Deer lapped from a pond that was edged in moss and bubbled here and there from hidden springs. Leaves fluttered to the ground in tinkling harmony at the command of nature’s conductor, a gentle breeze. The air was clear, clean and frosty, as across the horizon the sun shone on the tops of mountains. Birds joined in chorus calling to one another from treetops and secret places. It was part of the dream…a beautiful peaceful dream.
    In a small cottage on another road a woman and a man were at odds with one another. There was no money for food; the last bit had been spent in a poker game in a bar by the local market in the valley town. Words flew back and forth like poisoned darts, each finding their mark in the recipient, leaving a wound. The man took down his rifle from its place above the door. He got in his truck and drove recklessly down the rutted road to the main one that lead to the place of peace barreling past the “No Trespassing” sign. Halting his vehicle, he got out of his truck and crept slowly into the quiet where leaves fluttered in tinkling harmony and fired the intruding discord of his booming gun into the symphony of nature. Silence fell heavy, not unlike the creature on the ground who flailed as its life force ran red into the brown earth. Fear spread like wild fires as nimble legs leapt to higher ground seeking refuge. Heaven had become hell. It was all a dream. It was a waking virulent dream born of angry words and invisible wounds that seeped its toxic discord into a beautiful song.
    What is the melody within your dream, and what is the tone of the harmony you bring with your song? It is your dream, so the choice is yours.

                                                     

 

                                                    Jennifer Grant