Monday, 26 March 2012

The Dream

She was there again in my dream. It had been awhile. Dark haired, grey eyed and very attractive she sat with her legs apart resting the cello between her knees. I was sitting at my desk typing. The desk was not one I recognised nor was the apartment we were in: it was not my home and yet it felt as though it should have been. The sound she made as her bow caressed the strings was sweet passion; a heartrending, soulful melody that dream does not easily transfer with memory to the waking world. I’d like to think it was Elgar but then again, I am captivated during the day by Natalie Clein so I guess it is no surprise. The female in my dream though is not Natalie Clein. She is the same fantasy that has inhabited my dreams for many months. Perhaps the new found knowledge of the great cellist has re-inspired my imagination. I stop writing to listen. Any words I might form to describe the music can only fail.

She is wearing a dark dress that drapes her legs like fabric waterfall. The cello has gone and she sits there smiling at me. I smile back then I kneel placing my head in her lap. She bends to kiss my head then runs her fingers through my hair.

It was the kind of dream one would like to inhabit. It is the kind of life I’d like to live.

After the trials and tribulations of a day spent at work I arrived home to chill factor nine. Jimbob was out. The only person down stairs was Thumbscrew. She was cleaning the floor. I made a fist of a meal consisting of pre-packeged, pre-prepared mash, poured on lots of ketchup, some cheese then salad cream. Sounds dreaful, tasted worse. I ate it then did some ironing. Then I watched again the Tintin film. It is one enjoyable movie. I could easily watch it again and again and probably will..
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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy. For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

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