The Wicked Garden–chapter 2
Chapter Two – A Dream
The couch was the color of an autumn mustard plant, firm yet comfortable to
relax upon. The orange, red trim hit the back of my knees and felt slightly
stinging like that of a summer’s last mosquito bite. Running my hand across the
nap of the couch, turned the intense colors of fall from dark to light, even in
the well worn places.
I sipped the steamy coffee and enjoyed the strange yet familiar taste of real
cream. Being early isn’t always the best choice when one is waiting for another
with no manners or care about time. I started taking in the other aspects of the
room – the rich brown tapestry of the fern design hung precisely near a huge
gilded mirror – the glitter on the ornamental egg surrounding the embedded cameo
on the side table and the red flowers with bright yellow middles placed on the
polished pine boards of the floor.
The waiting seemed endless and I found myself nodding, slipping down and resting
the side of my head on the couch. I felt my body become heavy – I was barely
able to move. I was fighting sleep and yet quickly found myself in that place
somewhere between a dream and reality, like dusk, not yet dark with bits of
flickering daylight remaining.
In the dream state I viewed not only the room from the large doorway but myself
sleeping as well.
I watched with interest as the egg on the side table now sat upon the couch, the
gilded mirror no longer had it’s reflective glass and only contained within the
frame, the patina from the wall and a strange port size flower with a human head
for it’s tight bud moving ever so slightly.
I heard the rustle of a skirt and the soft sound of a healed boot. When my eyes
caught up with the sound – it was a woman with a lovely straw, wide brimmed hat.
She was sauntering across the room. At once I became frightened and heard the
beating of my heart in my ears – loud and throbbing.
The woman, perhaps in late twenties, held a pink glow through the black lace
dress. As she adjusted the heavy gathers along the shoulder line her seemingly
faceless shape caught mine. I could see the hollows where eyes belonged,
blinking. Her dark eyelashes sweep down. The outline of soft, pink lips
expressed a whisper saying , go. She repeated the word twice more.
The touch of a cold hand brought me back from my troubled sleep. Half
embarrassed and half frightened from what I believed was a dream I hastily tried
to straighten my appearance.
Ms. Abate observed me with a cool calculated smile.
‘Do you often fall asleep while waiting to be interviewed?’
I humbly apologized and explained I not sure what came over me – thinking it was
the unusually warm day so late in the season.
Her smile returned as before and I would see it many times more …
to be continued
*** written 12-22-06
