Dragons
I throw the down comforter aside and stumble out of my warm bed and head for the kitchen. It's dark out now when I wake up. My body craves coffee now. The remains of yesterday's coffee, still in the pot, quickly gets dumped down the sink. The smell of strong stale coffee sickens me. I wash the pot and put on fresh coffee. I can't remember my favourite coffee commercial. I slowly move out to the patio and fall into a chair while the fresh aroma of coffee drifts towards me. I wonder why dreams don't come true.
This will be the last of the good weather now. The rain will soon take over. Most people don't like rain, I do. I like the smell of the rain and especially the sound of it. I think back to being a young child on my uncle's farm. I discovered an old abandoned car that my imagination took flight in. It must have been from the 1940's. Rusted, without doors and tires, it provided perfect escapism. I can still smell the old oil and cracked leather interior. I loved to sit there and drive endlessly in the rain. The rain would tell me all kinds of stories. I dreamed of all the places I would go and the things that I would see. It was a wonderful, magical, mystical world back then. There were no dragons in those days.
I get up and pour my coffee. I like the feel of the warm cup in my hands. I inhale the aroma deeply and fall back into the chair. There is a faint pink sunrise this morning. Maybe the dragons have all gone now. I hope, but I know better. They always appear when I am the most vulnerable. I must stay strong and keep my guard up. It's best to be alone, that way they don't come as often. I can always turn the stereo up and make lots of noise so the dragons don't find me. I watch as the sunrise breaks into day. Clouds don't hold the same shapes and meanings as they used to. That's the sad part of growing older: too much realism in the world and too many dragons to fight.
There are quiet moments that I want to lock in my mind. It's only the special moments that really mean anything, peaceful, magical, moments in time allowing thoughts and senses to function freely. Time flees much too swiftly; there are always dragons waiting to be fought. People hurry too much. There is far too much scurrying about like little mice always looking busy and trying to build a nest to hold up somewhere. Mice are afraid of cats, I am afraid of dragons. I believe I have chained the mightiest of the dragons now in that dark location that exists only in the mind. No one else can set them lose. It's the fear of new dragons that may arise that disturbs me most.
Dragons can't discover me when I am alone in my secret quiet places. They don't exist when I am alone by the shore or in the forest. Only in those places can I really exist. Only then can I allow my thoughts to be free and permit my senses to feel, taste, touch, and smell. It is only then that I feel truly alive. The rest of the time, I too, scurry about like the rest of the mice looking for more meaning and purpose in life or keeping busy and filling my time with logical activities. I desire to preserve that childlike innocence within myself and maintain escapism from realities. I covet those quiet moments when I am alone in my magical, mystical, and wonderful world.
Written by: Beverley ©
