If Wishes Were Watery Dreams

IF WISHES WERE WATERY DREAMS

Torn between a dream and true consciousness, Misty listens to a strange sound on the roof. It's raining, but she can't hear the drumming sound of water. The light plops she hears on the tin roof are harsher than water, yet softer than hail. Rubbing her eyes Misty slips from the sheets and stumbles sleepily to the window. Drawing aside her curtains she peers outside. A steady stream of something slides down the windows. Confused, she can't make out what it is. The wind moans loudly and the colorful streams ping against the window pane. Is that candy? She must be dreaming. 

In a trance Misty moves to the front door and opens it slowly. The motion sensor light clicks on illuminating a wondrous sight. Littering the ground as far as she can see is a carpet of licorice allsorts. Her fingers twitch as she moves towards sweet treats. On sensory overload her mouth salivates and her nostrils flare at the sweet rich aroma. Darting into the spectacular downpour, she grabs fistfuls and retreats to the kitchen. Flicking on the light she stares in awe at her bounty. Her deep depression is momentarily forgotten. She laughs out loud. Cramming the delicious treats into her mouth she savors the burst of sweet flavors. It reminds her of her youth, when things were simple and she was carefree. Adulthood and loss are too hard. She doesn't want to think of those things. For now her heart is happy and she is distracted.

Turning to the sink, Misty turns on the tap. A flow of water gurgles out in a steady stream. It bypasses the glass she holds to it and flows over the edge of the sink. Instead of splashing to the floor, it begins to shimmer and shake. Before her very eyes the water begins to shape into a human form. It grasps her hand. Swallowing the remains of the candy Misty is awestruck at the mirage standing before her. It is the spitting image of her late daughter. Not a ghost nor a human, but a glistening watery being. It looks at her with love. The watery illusion begins to dance, pushing and pulling at Misty until she follows its lead. Laughing in the light they dance around the kitchen. Misty looks at the apparition with longing and acceptance. Her beloved child's features and mannerisms are perfectly reflected back by the liquid form. The tap is still on, love flows out in the form of her child. If this is a dream, she'll take it. She never wants to wake up and let go of the icy cold hands that grip hers with love.

The longer they dance the braver Misty gets. Her smile is wide and her heart is light. The pores in her skin open and absorb every nuance of her spirit daughter. Her despair and grieving are sloughed away, replaced with a wholehearted joyous abandon. “Let's go outside," Misty says and the water sprite nods. Still holding hands they dance their way out the front door. The porch lights shine off the candy rain. Laughing, the two interlocked figures dash amongst the sugary sweetness. Rainbow colored licorice adorns Misty's hair, getting tangled in her curls. Misty tows her water sprite behind her to the garden swing. Collapsing on the wooden bench they start to rock. Pushing with her legs Misty is radiant with happiness. The silent sprite watches her wistfully and Misty sighs contentedly. 

When the fall of candy stops, Misty jumps up. “I want to show you something special," she tells her glistening child. Again she pulls on her arms and leads her back inside. In the quiet of the night they creep up the stairs. Misty halts in front of a closed door. Hesitantly she looks at the sprite then slips into the bedroom. “This is your room,” she says softly as she approaches a large doll house filled with tiny furniture. “This is the birthday gift that was delivered when you were gone’” she smiles at her transparent companion. They admire the house and its contents and her water child glistens and shimmers with joy.

Misty moves across the room and settles into a rocking chair. “Will you sit with me please?" she asks. Rocking gently Misty folds her arms round her spirit child. Giving a contented sigh she begins to sing softly. All her memories come flooding back. One song flows into the next as they rock back and forth. This is the best feeling in the world Misty thinks. She sinks into a deep sleep, her arms as full as her heart. There is no more pain and no ugly nightmares to disturb her peaceful slumber. The utter joy seeping into her very marrow is restorative. Its presence is a healing balm to her deeply wounded and battered soul. The rest of the night is spent in peaceful surrender. Misty's dreams are a loving remembrance of the ten short years of her daughter's life. Only good memories shimmer in her mind and happiness swirls round the sleeping woman. 

Morning comes with a painful reminder that life is harsh. Misty is woken by her husband frantically calling her name. His footsteps pound up the stairs and he bursts into the room, startling Misty awake. His expression is a mix of anguish and despair as he takes her in. He shakes his head slowly and says to her “you were sleepwalking again, weren't you?” “Your clothes are wet and is that candy in your hair?”. “What on earth did you get up to last night my love?” He scoops her up in his strong arms and carries her to the bathroom. Misty is in a sleep fog and sighs out “I saw our angel last night.” Her husband groans in frustration and sorrow. He feels the weight of the world on his shoulders as he considers how to respond. Misty is calm and smiling to herself, seemingly happy. He just can’t seem to burst her contented bubble this morning. To remind her that their child is permanently gone is cruel, and there is no harm in letting it be for now. 

Misty is compliant as her husband helps her undress so she can shower and warm up. As he slips off her robe, multicolored licorice allsorts tumble out of the pockets. She startles and crouches to gather them up, clutching them to her chest. Her husband tells her he will take them downstairs and place them in a jar. His head is bowed as he shuffles down to the kitchen. His troubles have doubled and all he can do is conquer one thing at a time. His wife is safe but seems so lost, and he has a leaky tap to fix. They are lucky the kitchen didn’t flood completely last night. He gathers the tools he needs to stop the water flow before he can mop up the pools laying on the floor. As he works the water pipes squeak and groan. If he was more fanciful like his wife, it may sound like they were singing a song.