So do any of you remember The Good Dream Maker and The Cycle of Yesterdays? Well, I thought I'd give you some resolution. :)
Also, I'd thought I'd join in Music Monday, hosted by Lauren @ Always Me.
Here's an awesome guitar instrumental of Here Comes the Sun. I might be a little jealous.
Okay, so because it's part of The Good Dream Maker, this piece is a little. . . experimental. So, yes, the changing verb tense is intentional.
The Call of Waking
Something screamed into the darkness. His hand thumped around the nightstand and knocked over the cup of paper flowers. He sighed and slumped from bed to floor. The purple petals crinkled between his fingers. He didn’t have good dreams anymore.
He reached under the bed for the last paper flower. What was this? A journal?
From downstairs someone calls him. Called him.
He perused through the journal. The time he’d gotten his braces. The time he’d changed piano instructors. The time that girl, what was her name? She had smiled at him. Then the entries stopped, yesterday. He glanced at the date. A sort of yesterday.
He flipped the blank pages through thumb and finger. Wait. He backtracked. Something scrawled in the middle:
Yesterday had to end today.
He rolled his eyes.
Someone calls him again.
He yelled back. He ran his tongue over his braces and grimaced.
Later, he sat sandwiched between his mom and an elder lady in a waiting room.
His mom asks if he’s okay.
Asked. Right. She asked.
He grimaced. Half to protest being a human sandwich and half to express delight at the prospect of dentist tools in his teeth.
His mom asks about Luke. She asks about Jonny.
Jonny had moved for family reasons, and Luke had quit football for injury reasons. Did they understand loss? Did they understand him? Could anyone understand anybody without owning the same soul?
Someone calls his name.
Maybe he walked down the hall. Maybe he sat in the dentist seat. But he thought of yesterdays and todays, Jabberwockies and nightmares. Didn’t yesterdays end? Shouldn’t good dream makers make good dreams for themselves?
At school, he walked down halls. He sat in classes. He took notes. But how did he end yesterday? How did he make a good dream? What of Jonny and Luke? Did they live in yesterdays and numb nightmares?
He bumped into someone.
“Oh!” someone says.
Papers fly like questions.
He mumbled sorry. He knelt to gather papers.
She— someone is a she— she says, “Are you okay?”
He opened his mouth. Oh, man. She was that girl, from— What was her name?
She smiles. “I’m Mandy.”
Mandy. Right. She is Mandy.
He picked up a sketch. A mock turtle and gryphon. “The lobster quadrille?”
“Yes!” She brightens. “You know Alice in Wonderland well?”
“I’ve gotta go.”
“Oh, but—“ She calls after him.
He finds himself. . . found himself, at the music room. The door knob creaked. The piano looked lonely with its bench bare. He had to sit. The universe was singing for it, wasn’t it?
The keys were cold. The bench solid. Everything cycled back, back to here where his tear-stained mom had sat beside him on this bench. Yesterday.
But what about today? What stood between yesterday and today? A bad dream, a--
That was it.
He must wake.
His fingers touched, touch. . . Touch the keys. Like the keys to different doors. Doors that lead to a wonderful world with red roses and blue skies, with people passing by and friends coming and going. Maybe people don’t fake being happy. Maybe they wake up to a new day. Maybe good dreams are daydreams, the things you make come true today.
A door opens. The girl, Mandy, bites her lip. “Are, are you sure you’re okay?”
He bites his lip, nearly laughs.
I *might* have memories tied to this song.
There's still one day left if you want to join Starting Sparks this month!