A dream of One's own

In March 2006, Ethan and Zera found themselves, at 38, divorced, with no family of their own, no home, and alone in a tiny town in the middle of the Pacific Northwest. They hadn't eaten a hot meal in almost seven days and had no human contact for weeks because their internet and service were down to a lack of cell towers in the area. 

It was a brand-new car. However, All four tires were worn down and replaced with adhesive and makeshift repairs. They were driving through rough terrain and bumpy roads. Ethan Brooks had aching muscles in his arms and calloused hands from gripping the steering wheel for hours on end.

They couldn't have been happier.

Somehow though, they were still cruising instead of commuting.  

Commuting is when the traveler's urge to get to a destination becomes more important than anything else, and they are on the other side. 

They were cruising in the immediate presence and appreciation of the beauty around them. It created happiness among them, a silence where creativity could spread and run wild. Imagination is as big as a library full of books that can not be locked away, with no bolt or gate.

The silence was short-lived. 

When Zera told Ethan, "What kind of concert only costs 45 cents?"

"What," said Ethan

"A 50 Cent concert featuring Nickelback." 

They both burst into laughter with tears in their eyes. 

They sat in that new red 2023 Jaguar F-pace Ethan had just purchased. The vehicle slid, The world blurred, reality trembled, and in that suspended moment, a sea of emotions flooded their souls like a tidal wave crashing upon a surfers shore. 

The car sailed right into a lagoon of mud.

Ethan reached for the door handle and scratched his gold ring against the edge of the dashboard.

Shaking, he stepped back from the sight before him, an ancient evergreen that reeked of age. Where mushrooms grew and berries ripened under the shady roof of the grove. 

He realizes they are lost in those dark woods that seem lovely. He can't help but feel a sense of deja-vu. 

The trees were the towers of the forest. Their knotted arms grew upward, and the oak was primitive. The hierarchy of the fortress stood proudly — rain fell, and the scent of damp earth mingled with the fragrance of almond brown trunks and faded roses. 

As Ethan approached the old cabin, he could hear the rustling foliage and snapping branches beneath him. Above him, an orchestra of Black-throated Green Warblers was dismantled by an awk of a raven. The eerie bird's cry cradled him within the autumn hour like a birdsong.

A gold mine moon hung quietly in the distance, casting a flattering sheen. The car's neon lights flickered, sending a chill down his spine like a whispered secret. Zera pressed a button on the vehicle to signal Ethan to hurry. He waved, inviting her to leave the car and join him on his adventure. 

The trees withdrew as he arrived at an open field., revealing the besprinkled sky and the cabin, which looked worn and neglected, as if time had taken its toll on the once-vibrant establishment.

He couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia washing over him, almost like a deep, haunting ballad that called out to him. This place felt like it held so many memories from his past, memories he thought he had left behind.

It was safe to say. Ethan and Zera were not in familiar waters anymore. 

He opens the cabins creaking door; the woody incense rotting silently, and the skillfully woven web of dust greets him like a slow Sunday morning. 

His ears perked up at the sound of a voice and a river nearby. Zera was swimming and dancing with conviction, freedom, and grace. He jogged towards the Pacific waters, and his heart skipped two beats when he saw her. 

That is what being near Zera was like for Ethan. A raging flood could be racing toward him from the north, and he'd still be straining southward towards her warmth. 

He looks at Zera and says until you got here. His voice rasps, "All this place had ever been was a reminder of how I was a disappointment, and now you're here and — I don't know. I feel like I'm okay because of the woman you are to me. Because of the way you love me. It's such a spiritual love. 

The block of ice surrounding her heart cracks, "How do you do that?"

His brows raised. "Do what?"

"say the right thing."

The corner of his mouth tugged just slightly upward. "No one thinks that."

"I do," replied Zera

His eyes are super low, and he has a whimsical grin across his cheeks as his stare drops. "Maybe I just say the right thing for you."

Rocks occupy the edges of the stream they are swimming in. Embedded with bodies of sea moss, they cause a rocky ripple as water meets stone; a swish, a clump, a swirl, and a thump. 

As Ethan turns around to join her for a swim, he feels a sharp pain in his back. Zera hits him with a rock, and the shore sweeps him away. 

Ethan seems to flash in and out of his awareness. He opens his eyes and realizes it is all a dream.  

His cheek and pillow are soaked with saliva as he picks himself off the couch. He has a dry mouth from the twelve hours he slept and takes a sip of water from the bottle on his nightstand. There is light coming from his small lamp with an adjustable shade. His shirt is slightly sweaty, and the clock reads 3:30 am. 

He rubs his eyes to double-check if he is awake. He can not remember his dream, but academia and wisdom still linger in the memory of it. Observation and aroma grapple for attention in this soul-enriching, shadowy classic dream world.

He didn't know what the dream meant or if it meant anything at all. 

But he felt like he wanted to meet Zera again for the first time. 

At that moment, he remembered a quote from Mary Oliver he read from a book he could see on the shelf a couple feet away.

"Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness, and it took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift."