Last night, I had a dream.
It was horrible in its loveliness,
Precious for its scarcity,
Ghastly sweet.
To begin, there was a party
A ball, one glittering with chandeliers, candles
An Anastasian paradise,
The gleaming white ballroom pristine.
And the people!
Polished society at its finest
Meandered through the crowd
Smiling, nodding in mute recognition
That prestige had brought them.
Men in tuxedos, silken ties,
Arm-wrestling men-folk from romance novels
They knock back oysters, whisky, wishes--
And with their eyes, the lovely women.
Women in gowns of every era,
Some covered with crystals,
Some plain in their garb;
And all in breathtaking jewelry.
Katie’s there,
She’s beautiful.
Clad in a dress-shirt
One the color of Finley’s eyes,
The breath-catching blue,
The blue of a true sapphire mixed with dreams.
Moonstones,
Rimmed in Celtic-patterned gold
Hang from Her ears,
Her wrists, her slender neck…
The dress, in back,
Is tied with a gold ribbon,
Tied down the low-cut back,
As though to hold it together.
Her feet are bare,
--that red, red hair--!
She smiles,
It gives the dream-me breath
Hope, love;
Purpose.
As for me, I’m in a magic dress
Woven from catches of Caribbean water,
The waves shimmering over the fabric;
Clashing with my goddess-gold skin—
My hair has streaks of sunlight,
Like I’d swallowed it…
I’m still wearing
Finley’s ring.
I do not know the faces
Assembled in this crowd
So I head for my Wizard-friend,
The siren-calling beauty brighter than the rest.
As soon as I take that barefoot step
On the off-white tiles
Towards her, though?
A fanfare sounds,
Murmurs ripple through the crowd.
‘The Princess is coming!
The Princess is coming!’
And from the double doors,
(Ornate as ever, of polished ebony)
Another woman came,
Almost as beautiful as Katie.
She glides inside,
And I gasp at her dress:
The top a wicked corset,
Striped with royal purple, blood red
Tied together with black ribbon
The bottom of
A swishing black lace,
Making the white face
Look paler.
A lock of curled black hair swept from her face—
Kate!
Dream-me does not register this,
She—me—walks to Katie,
Offers my hand to dance with her---
Katie see Kate, goes to her….
Kate extends her hand—it’s accepted—
They dance.
They dance, they dance!
Some dances after, me still smiling,
Katie goes to get some sun-wine
And the Princess comes to me.
She smirks, takes my hand,
Kisses it.
“Ah, Payton,” dream-Kate chides,
“Did you really think she’d dance with you
When she had me?”
I wake up, past my ringing alarm,
Nearly late for school.
If it wasn’t real….
Why, then, does this hurt?
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